Once he left

I Remember

"I remember the first time I met Dylan," I said, my voice barely holding steady. "He walked into class late, a big grin on his face, like he already knew everyone in the room and we’d just been waiting for him to show up."

The laughter from the others in the circle was light, but it felt forced. Everyone was waiting for me to finish, waiting for their turn to share. The grief in the room was so heavy it was like breathing underwater.

"He sat next to me," I continued, swallowing hard, "and immediately asked if he could borrow a pen. Then five minutes later, he asked for a piece of paper. Then my notes."

This time, the laughter was genuine. I could almost hear Dylan’s voice in my head, joking, 'Why bring school supplies when you’ve got friends?' He said it so often it became a running joke between us.

"Back then, I thought he was just annoying," I admitted, staring at the corner of the room, anywhere but at the faces of his family and the other people gathered here. "But by the end of the week, he was my best friend. He just… had this way of pulling you in, like you’d known him forever, even if you just met him."

I thought back to the little things—how he’d walk into the cafeteria like it was his stage, tray in hand, calling out to people he barely knew, dragging me into conversations I’d never have started on my own. He’d always share his fries, always crack a joke at just the right moment when things felt too heavy.

And then there was the way he pushed me, even when I didn’t want to be pushed.

"I remember the first time he convinced me to skip class," I said, smiling faintly. "It was sophomore year. Biology. He said, ‘Sara, we’re going to learn more in the woods than we ever will in here.’ And like an idiot, I believed him."

The circle chuckled again. Dylan’s mom wiped her eyes, her lips trembling into a smile as if she could hear his voice too.

"He dragged me out to the nature trail behind the football field. It was freezing, and we didn’t even have jackets. He kept pointing at random trees like he was some kind of expert. ‘That’s a birch,’ he’d say, and I’d just nod along even though I knew it wasn’t. I asked him once how he was so confident, even when he was wrong, and he said, ‘Confidence isn’t about being right, Sara. It’s about making other people believe you are.’"

The memory hit harder than I expected. My chest tightened, and I had to pause to breathe.

"That was Dylan," I said finally. "He made you believe—believe in him, believe in yourself, believe that everything would be okay, even when it wasn’t."

The room was quiet for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if I could go on, but I knew I had to.

Dylan wasn’t just my best friend. He was the first person who really saw me.

High school wasn’t easy for me. I was the quiet kid, the one who blended into the background. Before Dylan, I spent most of my time avoiding attention, keeping my head down, just trying to get through the day. But Dylan… he didn’t let me hide.

"Remember the talent show?" I asked, looking up at the group. A few people nodded, their faces lighting up with recognition.

"I didn’t even want to go," I said. "Let alone perform. But Dylan signed me up anyway. He didn’t even tell me until the day of, and suddenly I’m up on stage with a guitar I barely knew how to play. I thought I was going to throw up, but then Dylan came out with a tambourine he found backstage, completely unplanned, and just started banging on it like a maniac."

The memory made me laugh despite myself. "He was awful. Couldn’t keep a beat to save his life. But everyone loved it. They weren’t watching me—they were watching him, and somehow, that made it easier. He always had a way of taking the pressure off, of making things fun, even when you were scared out of your mind."

I swallowed hard, the laughter fading.

"That’s why I went with him that night," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "To the water tower. Because no matter how stupid his ideas were, they always felt like an adventure. And I didn’t want to miss out."

The night Dylan died was burned into my memory, every detail as vivid as if it had just happened.

We were juniors, and it was spring break. The whole town felt alive with the kind of restless energy that only comes after a long winter. Dylan showed up at my house just after dark, his car idling in the driveway, music blaring.

"Come on, Sara!" he yelled from the driver’s seat, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. "We’re making history tonight!"

I should have said no. I should have told him it was a bad idea, that we could get in trouble, that it wasn’t safe. But I didn’t. I never could when it came to Dylan.

We drove out to the water tower, laughing and blasting music the whole way. He kept talking about how people would see our names up there for years, how it would make us legends.

"It’s our senior prank," he said, climbing out of the car. "Just a year early."

I laughed, but my hands were already sweating as I stared up at the tower. The ladder looked higher than I remembered, the metal slick with rain from an earlier storm.

"Dylan, maybe we should wait," I said, my voice wavering. "It’s wet. This could be dangerous."

He just shrugged, already halfway to the ladder. "Dangerous is half the fun!" he called over his shoulder.

I followed him, of course. I always did.

The climb was harder than I expected. My hands slipped on the rungs, my heart pounding in my chest. Dylan was above me, moving faster, laughing like it was a game.

When we reached the top, the view took my breath away. The whole town stretched out beneath us, the lights glittering like stars. For a moment, I forgot my fear, forgot the danger, and just stood there, taking it all in.

"This is it, Sara," Dylan said, pulling out the can of spray paint he’d stuffed in his jacket. "This is what life’s about. Moments like this."

He handed me the can, and I shook it, the rattle echoing in the still night. Together, we started painting our names, laughing as the wind whipped around us.

But then Dylan slipped.

One second, he was there beside me, grinning like he always did. And the next, he was gone.

I don’t remember screaming, but I must have. I climbed down as fast as I could, my hands shaking so badly I almost fell myself. When I reached the ground, he was lying there, motionless, the rain pooling around him.

"I should have stopped him," I said, my voice breaking. "I should have made him come down. But I didn’t. I just… I let it happen."

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t try to wipe them away.

"Dylan was… he was everything I wasn’t," I said. "Brave, fearless, full of life. And now he’s gone. And I don’t know how to live in a world without him."

I sat down, my chest heaving with silent sobs. Around me, the others shared their memories, their stories, their grief. But all I could hear was Dylan’s laugh, echoing in my mind, louder and louder, until it was all I had left of him.