Yeah, I wanted to make a blog post about my dead friend. He died from cancer (I believe it was in his kidneys). He got cancer 2-3 years ago, but I never really thought he would die from it. I never worried about it.
When I first met him, I didn’t like him. I didn’t like him at all. I had met him through another friend, and me and him just didn’t get along. We didn’t like each other for awhile (although now that I think about it, I don’t really think he knew I didn’t like him. Like, I always remembered us not liking each other, but now that I’m thinking about it, I feel like, maybe, I just didn’t like him, and he didn’t even know).
Then we both went to my former churches Christian camp. We were around 10 years old I believe, and we were placed in the same cabin. After a couple of days, we got into a fight. It was stopped before anyting could happened, but in my opinion, we began to look at each other differently. We became friends.
Unfortunately, he moved right after that. We stayed in touch by texting, and he found out he had cancer. Unfortunately, we lost touch with each other right after that. I haven’t talked to him in like 2-3 years, and now I won’t be able to talk to him again.
If I would have known he was gonna die, I would have done things differently. For some reason, I didn’t really think the cancer was as bad as it obviously was. Cancer took my grandpa as well.
This post is dedicated to my friend Xavier who died while only sixteen years old. I’m sorry I failed you.