i'll never forget you.

I first met Sarah when we were both in college. It was a chance encounter, a meeting of two people who were meant to be friends. She was a transfer student, new to the city and eager to make friends. I was drawn to her sunny disposition and her love for life. It was easy to talk to her, and soon we became inseparable.

We spent long afternoons in the park, talking about our dreams and our fears. Sarah had a way of making everything seem brighter and more hopeful. She had a zest for life that was infectious, and I couldn't help but be drawn to her energy. We laughed until we cried, and we cried until we laughed. There was a deep connection between us that I couldn't explain, but I knew it was special.

As the years went by, we grew even closer. We supported each other through breakups and job losses, and celebrated each other's successes. We were like two peas in a pod, always together, always there for each other.

But then life got in the way. Sarah got a job offer across the country, and I was hesitant to leave my hometown. We promised to stay in touch, but as the months went by, our phone calls and emails grew fewer and farther between.

One day, out of the blue, Sarah called me. Her voice was shaky, and I knew something was wrong.

"I have cancer," she said. "It's bad. The doctors don't think I have much time left."

I was stunned. I couldn't imagine a world without Sarah in it. We talked for hours that night, catching up on everything we'd missed in each other's lives. It was like no time had passed at all.

For the next few months, I visited Sarah as often as I could. I watched as her once-bright eyes grew dim, and her once-vibrant energy waned. It was painful to see her suffering, but I stayed by her side until the end.

On her last day, Sarah asked me to read her favorite poem to her. It was a beautiful piece about love and loss, and it made me think of all the times we'd shared together. As I finished reading, Sarah squeezed my hand and smiled.

"I will never forget you," she whispered.

Those words have stayed with me ever since. Even though Sarah is gone, her memory lives on in my heart. I think of her often, and all the moments we shared together. Her laughter, her smile, her kind heart - they are all still a part of me, and they always will be.

In the years since Sarah's passing, I've tried to honor her memory in my own way. I've volunteered at cancer centers, and I've donated to cancer research. I've also made a point to stay in touch with the people I care about, even if they live far away. Life is short, and we never know how much time we have left.

But no matter what happens, I will always remember Sarah. Her strength, her courage, her unwavering love - they have inspired me in more ways than I can count. And though she may be gone, her spirit lives on in the memories we shared together.

In the years after Sarah's passing, I struggled to come to terms with my loss. I went through a period of grief that felt all-consuming. I was angry at the world for taking her away from me, and I was filled with a deep sense of sadness that seemed impossible to shake.

But slowly, over time, I began to find ways to cope with my pain. I started journaling, pouring my thoughts and emotions onto the page. I took up running, finding sol