I wish I had never let go, I thought for what was probably the thousandth time since that moment. Cliff diving had seemed but a spur of the moment activity. Like a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. If I only knew I would’ve lost my best friend, my other half, my missing piece. She was ecstatic on the drive up the rocky mountain. Her knees eagerly bumped mine, her grin in sync with the tunes floating around the backseat of the car.

I willed myself to stop thinking about her giddy expression as my mind returned back to the world around me. Her funeral. It was bright, cheery, just like she would’ve wanted it. Her mother had ordered a pink and green bouquet, which complimented the theme of the event. Everyone was required to wear pink, greens, or florals, in compliance with the celebratee’s request before she had passed.

I vividly remember, now more than ever that she’s gone, her lying on my bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars littering my ceiling. She always got philosophical at night, I recalled fondly. One recurring request of hers was that, should she die, her funeral would not be sad, black, and dreary. I admired her for the idea, stupidly thinking I’d never have to attend it.

One minute, we were checking out harnesses (me more so than her), then we were diving off into the rocky cliffs. I heard a distinct tear, and she collided with me. I grasped her hand as her harness threatened to pull her down into the abyss. After what seemed like hours of panicked silence, she slipped. One inch. Her hand slipped out of my grip, and the last i saw of my soulmate, was her limp body thudding a thousand feet below me. I wish I had never let go.