We haven't spoken in a while, and whenever we do, we go through the pleasantries: "How's college?" and "How's work?" before cutting to: "Have you spoken to so-and-so?" and "Is she doing better?"

Meanwhile, are any of us doing better? Flashback to high school, only five months before we would all graduate together, and she's gone. One day she was just absent and the next day she was dead. We all crumbled and broke. There wasn't a single person in our class who didn't cry that day, week, month, or year.

The closer we got to graduation, the more we were told to move on. According to administration, her manner of death stigmatized our mourning, so it was back to exams and science labs as per usual. They knew she took her own life, but did they know how much that changed ours?

I watched my friend group, one of her friend groups (there wasn't a friend group she didn't talk to), age 30 years in three days. We all had dark circles under our eyes from the sleepless nights and raspy voices from the endless crying. At lunch we all sat in a circle just staring at the table, all of the underclassmen creating a symphony of noise around us but it was still silent. It was a silence we couldn't shake and I still can't shake it.

We all coped in our own ways. We ordered matching green T-shirts with her name and "thanks for the memories" written across them. We wore green ribbons in our hair and signed every social media post with a green heart. Some of us got tattoos. I have since covered mine with a new one.

I didn't cover my tattoo so I could forget her, despite what some may think. I can still see her name signed on my skin, under the butterfly on my wrist, forever. I concealed her signature because at a certain point, I realized that she never planned for us to stop our lives in their tracks. She was selfless and caring--she wouldn't want us to wake up every day and think of her and the "would'ves", "could'ves" and "now nevers." She wouldn't want us to look back and say "why did we stop talking at the end of freshman year? I hope she didn't think I hated her. What if we stayed friends? What if I could've saved her?"

She

Now, two years later, and two years after I've stopped speaking with our friend group, I have to say thank you. Not just a thank you from me but a mutual thank you between us. Thank you for banding together in all of our darkest days so that we could learn the meaning of the word "solidarity." Thank you for keeping her in your thoughts and prayers so we could learn the meaning of "gone, but not forgotten." And thank you, most of all, for suffering through it all together, but never letting her death make us lose sight of our lives.

I hope this article finds you in good health, good spirits and with bright futures ahead.

Thanks for the memories.