She was gorgeous. Not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. She had long dark blonde hair, big brown eyes that sparkled with happiness, and a big smile with the whitest teeth that shone when she grinned or laughed. She was always happy. She always included everyone, and made sure that everyone felt loved. You know that person that you never really talked to because they were “weird” or “different”? Not to her: she always made sure she said hello to them and smiled at them. She cared about people; she wanted people to be safe when they drove and made sure that they were never distracted when they were driving. She always talked about peoples’ problems with them and offered solutions from an outside perspective. She understood where people would come from if they got in a fight with their friend or significant other. She understood people. She was beautiful.

I was a cheerleader with Alexis Summers. She was such a nice person: she wasn’t controlling; she wasn’t a senior who wanted things her way because it was her last whatever event we were having that night. She was just nice. I was in a theater class with her, and those are some of my favorite memories from that class. We worked together on a couple of skits. I still have those scripts.

Alex also had a boyfriend. His name was Andrew. They were literally a perfect couple. Everyone wanted to have a relationship like theirs.

November 1, 2011 was the worst day ever.

I just came back from my brother’s wedding. My mother and I were driving to my dad’s apartment so I could get my backpack. I had intentionally skipped physics and pre-calculus that day. My dad called my mom when we were about 5 minutes away from the apartment. All she said was, “Oh.” I got scared; I didn’t know what was going on. She hung up the phone and said, “Dad doesn’t know if you want to go to school today. Alexis Summers died last night. She was texting and driving.” All I felt was shock. I couldn’t process anything. I told my mom to just turn around. I went to school and was immediately greeted by the guidance counselor who gave me a hug. She tried to get me to go into the counseling session with the rest of the cheerleaders; I told her no. It would only make me more upset. If teachers taught that day, there were students constantly going in and out of classrooms to go to the grief counselors that were brought in that day. Other teachers just let the class sit in silence.

We won our regular football season: like, the entire season. We went 12-0. On the last game of the season, we won and stormed the field. We all looked up and there was only one star in the sky. We all knew it was her, looking down on us. We pointed at it for about 10 minutes straight. We had a moment of silence so intense you could hear a pin drop in the stadium. I played “Amazing Grace” with the marching band. The other team’s cheerleaders brought us flowers. We won all of WPIALS, basically the playoffs before playing at Heinz Field in Pittsburgh. We wound up losing at Heinz Field, but our student section was voted most spirited. I think the entire city could hear our cheering.

As I write this, the date is November 1, 2016. It’s the 5-year anniversary of Alex’s death. To this day, I try to remember Alex by doing things the way she would. I try to include everyone; I try to make everyone feel loved. I try to be fair, and I try to make people happy. I’m not sure how successful I am at all of that, but I remember Alex and all of the happiness and joy that she brought into my life. Anything I do, is in remembrance of her. I miss Alex with all of my heart, and just remembering her by posting on Facebook or Instagram about it isn’t enough for me. In my opinion, if you want to remember someone and make sure that they’re happy in Heaven, you have to do things that would make them happy. For me, remembering Alex is living by the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would like others to do unto you. I love you, Alex. I hope I’m making you proud.