My mom was cooking spaghetti in the kitchen while my dad and I sat on the couch, FaceTiming my grandmother.

I didn’t want to talk to her. It wasn’t because I didn’t love her — I just didn’t want to see the fabric that covered her shaved head. I didn’t want to see the colorless walls of the hospital room. I didn’t want to see her used-to-be-tan skin, now sickly pale. 

I should have talked to her more that night, because it was the last time I ever would. 

The following days, we got the call that she wasn’t going to make it much longer; her cancer was winning. The next morning, we packed up the car and made the drive to Houston to say goodbye.

I had just woken up from a nap during the long car ride. I looked up at my mom’s phone to see how far away we were: five minutes. I laid my head back down against the car door, still tired and sore from my COVID-19 vaccine the day before.

Then, everything went black.

Someone ran a red light, crashing into the backseat door my head was leaning against. 

Instead of spending my day in the hospital, saying goodbye to my grandmother, smelling her sweet scent and hearing her warm laughter one last time, I was the one lying in the hospital bed. 

While I lay in the bed, tubes running in my arms and countless X-Rays and CT scans performed on me, she passed away. 

I never got the chance to say goodbye.

Now that I am a senior — not the freshman girl my grandmother once knew — saying goodbye has become inevitable. I used to pretend it wasn’t. If I just avoided the thought, maybe I wouldn’t lose my high school friends. 

My grandmother taught me many important lessons when she was alive: save money to treat yourself, four leaf clovers are lucky and laughing is the most joyful part of life. The most important lesson, however, is to cherish memories while they last. 

Even though my grandmother was growing old, she never forgot anything. Every day, she had a new story to tell about her old friends or family members she hadn’t spoken to in years; no matter what happened between them, she never talked badly about anyone. 

Throughout my last few months of high school, my goal is to be just like her.

In a few months, I will be in college. My closest friends will be states away and I won’t be living in my own home anymore. I am terrified of that day. I’m scared to lose contact with my friends and to not be able to see the same faces walking down the hallways every day. 

I’m not going to avoid my friends because I know they’re leaving; instead, I’m going to breathe in every moment with them and carry those memories with me to share with my own grandchildren one day. 

I used to run away from saying goodbye, but I have learned that doing that only leads to regret. To end my last year of high school, I will take the lessons my grandmother left me with and not make the same mistakes I made with her. 

For once, I won’t let myself be afraid of those goodbyes, but will cherish every moment and say my final farewells to many people.