Melissa moved to town when I was in eighth grade. She was rude. She was confrontational. She was a total witch, and I hated her immediately. One day we both got put in detention for fighting in gym class.

However, we did have a mutual friend, Cathy. That year Cathy decided to have a birthday party at a skating rink a few towns over, and Melissa and I were forced to ride in the same car together. Melissa’s sister was driving and we got into an accident, sliding off a road that was slippery thanks to Michigan’s predictably unpredictable weather. After going off the road, slamming through a fence, and nearly hitting a combine tractor, Melissa and I finally had something to talk to each other about. After a while, we were having conversations that weren’t dripping with disdain. We actually became pretty good friends.

In high school Melissa and I had a couple of classes together, including choir. In our tenth grade year our choir made a CD, and the song “The River” was on it. That just happened to be Melissa’s and my favorite song, and we were excited to be learning it for the recording. Not long after the choir CD came out, Mel was diagnosed with cancer. She had a tumor in her brain the size of an orange. The doctors decided to operate, but to no avail. In November of 1996 she slipped into a coma. Then in December, just after Christmas, Melissa passed away. She was sixteen years old.

A few days before she passed, our choir class took a field trip to visit her in the hospital. We sang for her, her favorite song, “The River.” Even though she was in a coma, I still believe she heard us.

Now, to this day, I cannot listen to that song. I love Garth Brooks, I have all his records, but I always skip that song. I always change the radio station when it comes on, and if someone sings it at the karaoke bar, I excuse myself and go outside, to keep from hearing it and turning into a blubbering idiot.