Eleanor was my best friend. I could almost always guess when she was calling my phone, even before her number flashed on the screen. We could read between the lines of one another's notes and e-mails, and I always knew when she was tired, upset, or otherwise not her usual self. We just knew things about each other, yet there was always something about her that I just couldn't comprehend.

We met at a church picnic when we were ten and took to one another immediately, in spite of the fact that she was a tomboy and I considered myself a very proper young lady. The next year, she began attending private school with me, and we were in many of the same classes throughout that year and the next.

During that time, I discovered what a talented writer she was. She was usually one of the first to share her short stories in literature class, and I loved to listen. She read with true feeling, and her stories were full of humor and pathos.

The summer before we were to go into the eighth grade, she and her family moved across the country due to her dad's job. I was sorry to see her go, but I wasn't devastated. I just went on with my life.

A year later, they moved back, this time settling only about eight blocks from my house, and she and I were once more in school together.

Somehow, the separation seemed to boost our friendship. Maybe it had made us realize how much we missed each other, or maybe we just changed while we were apart. When she moved back, the first thing I noticed about her was that she had calmed down considerably; she was no longer such a wild child. Meanwhile, I had learned not to be so rigid and set in my ways. Either way, things had improved. During our freshman year, we came to know one another better. We exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses, did fun things together, and slept over at each other's houses. By the beginning of tenth grade, we were as close as sisters. Everyone knew we were best friends. My older brother once joked, "You two are joined at the hip! I believe you'd die if anybody tried to separate you!"

I laughingly agreed, never guessing the seriousness of his words.

On the surface, Eleanor was an ordinary girl--or maybe I should say almost ordinary. She loved being original. If one style of clothing was fashionable, she'd deliberately wear something as near its opposite as she could get her hands on, yet she always managed to look wonderful. She was so daring that I often feared for her safety, and when we went hiking or camping, I wouldn't let her out of my sight. She always seemed to be striving for something, yet I've never known anyone who took such exuberant pleasure in the simplest of life's joys. I especially remember a warm May afternoon the year we were sixteen. We didn't have anything to do after school, so we decided to spend an hour or two in the park near my house. We walked along one of the winding wooded trails for a while, and then we came to an open, grassy area. The grass appeared not to have been cut for a long time--or maybe it had grown rapidly due to all the rain we'd been having the last week or so--and buttercups were blooming everywhere, nodding their bright little heads to us as we stood and gazed on the tranquil beauty spread out before us like a living tapestry.

Eleanor turned up her face to the sky and breathed deeply, a wide smile spreading over her face, and suddenly she ran forward, spreading her arms and exclaiming, "Oh, it's such a beautiful day!" And she laughed. It might have been my imagination, but she seemed to shine, faintly and yet brilliantly. Her smile, her eyes, everything about her radiated pure joy. I watched her, chuckling silently, and when she turned to me, holding out her hand with her radiant smile and big brown eyes that managed to dance and plead at the same time and cried, "Come on, Hannah!" I couldn't resist joining her. We ran and caught hands and whirled around, and then we linked arms and frolicked in wide circles, singing nonsensical songs at the tops of our voices.

"Oh, that felt good!" I sighed as we collapsed side by side, flushed and breathless and beaming to beat the sun.

"Mm," Eleanor agreed, sprawling on her back.

I stretched out beside her, and we watched the few clouds drifting lazily in the sky, pushed and tugged by the gentle hand of the wind.

I wrote about that day in my diary, May eleventh. I'll never forget the date, because the next year, on the very same day, I learned what grief was, what "forever" really meant, for the first time in my life.

Eleanor wasn't at school that day because she and her family had taken a day trip to the mountains. I was in choir, my favorite class. The telephone rang, but we were in the middle of a song, so Mrs. Kelly, my teacher, ignored it. It hadn't stopped ringing by the time we finished. She went to answer it, muttering something about not being allowed to have a class in peace. "Anne Kelly," she said into the receiver. "Yes. Yes, she is. Of course, right away." She hung up the phone and turned to look directly at me. "Hannah, to the front office. You've got early dismissal."

"What?" I said, surprised. "But why? Did I do something?"

She smiled reassuringly. "No, I don't think so, dear. Go on, now."

I hurried from the choir room and along the hall, my heart racing. I wasn't reassured by Mrs. Kelly's words. Why would I have early dismissal and not know about it beforehand?

"Phone call for you," the girl behind the desk said to me as I rushed into the office. "It's your mom. Here." She handed me the phone.

"Hi, Mom," I stammered uncertainly. "What's going on? Mrs. Kelly said..."

"Hannah, honey, I have something to tell you." Her voice was choked. "And I need you to be brave."

"Oh, no," I whimpered. "What's wrong?"

"There was an accident, Han. A car accident. Eleanor..."

"Oh, no!" My voice was shrill and broken.

Mom rushed on. "They were coming back from the mountains, and a deer ran in front of them. Her dad swerved, and...They were taken by helicopter to the hospital."

"Oh, Mom!" I choked out, almost sobbing. Fear gripped my insides, squeezed them so hard I thought I would be sick. "Are they--are they a-alive?" I forced the question out.

"Yes," Mom said. "Her mom came out without a scratch. Her dad's got a concussion and a broken hip. But, Hannah...They--they don't know how long Eleanor has. I'm coming to get you. I'm going to take you to the hospital to see her one more time."

"Okay." The voice was mine, but I didn't feel as if I'd just spoken.

"Okay, see you in a few minutes." There was a click, and a dial tone buzzed harshly in my ear.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked the girl who had handed me the phone. "You kinda look like you're gonna be sick or something. Here, sit down."

I shook my head, afraid of losing control if I sat down. "No. No, I'm okay." How could I be so calm? I wanted to scream, but I couldn't even cry.

The next five minutes were torture. I'd never been as glad to see Mom as when she ran through the door of the office and grabbed my hand. "Let's go," she said, dropping a note on the desk.

We fled to the car and then sped through down-town traffic to the hospital. All I remember of the ride is someone honking a loud horn at us. Then we were almost running through the huge parking lot, through the doors, into an elevator. The small boxy room rushed upward, and I swayed, the combination of terror and the sudden motion making me feel as if I was going to faint. Then we were in the intensive care unit, and Mom was talking to a young nurse. "Please, where is Eleanor Higgins?"

"Room 354. But I'm not sure..."

"Please," I interrupted. "She's my best friend. I have to see her--before..."

The nurse gave me a kind look. "Of course. It's that way." She pointed down a corridor.

I whirled in that direction and took off, almost running, Mom right behind me. "Hold on, El," I whispered. "Hold on just a little bit longer. Oh, God, please let her still be there!"

Mrs. Higgins was sitting beside Eleanor's bed when I went in. A nurse was also there, keeping a close eye on Eleanor and the machines attached to her. Eleanor herself was lying motionless in the bed. She was battered and surrounded by cords and tubes, but that strange aura, that part of her I'd never been able to understand, seemed to shine out more brilliantly than ever.

"Oh, Hannah," Mrs. Higgins whispered, wrapping me in a hug. "She's been waiting for you, dear. Sit down." She patted the chair she had occupied moments before. I sank onto it, and she laid Eleanor's hand in mine. "We don't know how much she can hear. The doctor thinks she's..." She sobbed. "...already brain-dead. But maybe--maybe not. El, dear, Hannah's here now. She's come to see you."

The room fell silent. Mom and Mrs. Higgins looked at me. I leaned down toward my friend's face. "Eleanor?" I whispered. "Ellie? Can you hear me?"

She didn't open her eyes, but a smile spread over her face. "Hannah," she breathed, so softly I wouldn't have heard if I hadn't been so close. "Oh, Hannah. We've had good times."

A tear finally came into my eye, rolled down my cheek, and fell onto her forehead. "Oh, El, don't go," I whispered.

Her smile didn't waver. "Don't worry. I'll be better soon."

"Oh, Ellie!" I sobbed. I knew I shouldn't cry, I should be strong for her; but for once, I couldn't. I just didn't have the strength.

"Han, I--I know..." She gasped, and for a moment I thought she was going to go right then. But her breath evened out, though it was still shallow, and she went on. "I know. I hear--what they say. Don't think about this when you--remem--ber--Han. Think about--the good times. 'Kay? Promise."

"I promise," I choked out. "I promise."

Then silence stole through the room like the herald of death. I don't know how long I sat there. Some time later I was startled by Eleanor suddenly crying out, wordlessly and pathetically. Mrs. Higgins rushed to the other side of the bed and stood there, her hand on her daughter's arm. I knew I should get up, offer her my seat, but I couldn't move. I felt glued to the chair. I couldn't bring myself to let go of my friend's hand. I thought that if I did, my heart would crash to the floor and break into a million bits of misery.

I was beginning to be overcome by drowsiness when the heart monitor, which had been beeping almost steadily, suddenly held its piercing tone the way the soprano singers in my choir held a painfully high note. I knew what it meant: Eleanor's heart had stopped. I looked at her still face. Her eyes were closed. She looked peaceful, as if she were asleep.

"She's gone!" Mrs. Higgins' wail joined that of the heart monitor. "She's gone! My baby, my baby!" Mom moved to her side and hugged her.

I sat, motionless, not knowing what to do, while the nurse checked for any sign of life and then began disconnecting the machines. Finally Mom came over and touched my shoulder. "Come on, Hannah. Mrs. Higgins is going to go to her husband."

I stood up. "Bye, Mrs. Higgins," I said. Then, leaning down once again, I added in a whisper, "Good-bye, Eleanor."

I didn't cry--not on the way out, not on the impossibly long ride home, not when I was alone in my room. I didn't cry until the very early hours of the next morning. I woke with a start, not knowing why, and an indescribable feeling of loneliness overwhelmed me. My wandering eyes fell on a brown-haired doll lying on my bedroom floor. I'd dragged it out of my closet two days before when I'd babysat a little neighbor girl, and it hadn't yet found its way back to the storage box. It was the only doll Ellie would play with, way back when our pastimes were so different that we compromised by taking turns playing one another's favorite games. The sight of that doll was too much. The sobs and tears rose up and burst from me. I felt my body shaking and my stomach twisting in agony. Eleanor was gone--my best friend of seven years, my confidant, my almost-sister--gone. Forever. In one day.

I don't know how long I cried. Once I started, I just couldn't stop. Finally I got out of bed and picked up the doll. Cassandra, Eleanor had named her. I thought back on all the times we'd played with her as I stroked her soft hair and looked into her eyes. They were wide and intense, as though she understood my pain and wished she was alive so that she could comfort me. I lay down again and held her close as sobs continued to wrack my body. "Oh, Eleanor, oh, Ellie!" I whispered over and over. "God, I feel like I'm going to die too. I can't do this by myself! I just can't. Please, take me up to You--and her. Oh, El, why'd you have to go?"

I cried myself to sleep, and I dreamed of Eleanor, laughing as she ran through the park under a golden sun.

The visitation was held the next evening. I went, but I couldn't look at the body or meet the family's eyes. Just as I was leaving, Mrs. Higgins ran up to me. "Hannah," she said with tears in her eyes. "Hannah, will you sing at the funeral tomorrow? She--she would have wanted it."

I agreed, my mind going back to a conversation Eleanor and I had had the year her grandmother died. "Hannah, if I go before you do," she'd said, "I want you to write a song and sing it at my funeral."

"Oh, don't be silly, El," I'd replied with a smile. "We've got a long time before we have to even think about that stuff."

She had smiled in return. "Yeah, but I just wanted you to know."

When I got home, I took out pen and paper and stared at them. What could I possibly write that would express how I felt about Eleanor? Then, suddenly and quickly, the words poured out:

How often do we entertain

Angels unaware?

How often do they come to us

To ease our load of care,

To brighten up our weary days

And chase away our night?

How often come the shining ones,

Yet we don't see their light.

My dear, you were an angel child,

A gift bestowed in love,

Giv'n us for a little while

By the Lord above.

But, oh, you left us much too soon--

Still young and newly sent.

We thought you were a gift of God,

But you were only lent.

I returned to school the day after the funeral. The other kids were sympathetic, but most couldn't begin to understand. "Don't worry, Hannah," Ashley Graham said, patting me on the back. "You'll find another friend."

I didn't answer aloud, but inside I was screaming, 'No! I'll never find another friend--not like Eleanor.'

I dreamed of her again that night. We were at an amusement park, standing in front of a giant roller coaster. "Go on, Hannah," she was urging. "Don't be scared."

I found myself sitting in one of the little cars. Eleanor stood beside it, looking in and waving. "Good-bye, Hannah. Good-bye."

"But, Ellie, aren't you going to come?"

She shook her head, smiling. "I'll be waiting for you at the other end."

As the roller coaster began rushing upward, the dream changed. I was gazing over a low wall at the park. But the park was filled with angels--beautiful, shining beings--and Eleanor was among them, one of them. She was beaming. "Eleanor!" I called to her.

She turned to me. "It's okay, Hannah." She waved, and then she was gone, whirling away in an ecstasy of music and her own native light, leaving me to smile after her through my tears.

©Copyright 2007 N.E.H. (Queen Galadriel)

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