On October 14, 2008, I lost my oldest and dearest friend, Nicole. It’s been years now, but the memories and the bond we shared remain as vivid and meaningful as ever. Nicole wasn’t just my friend—she was my sister, my confidante, my partner in everything. We met when we were just five years old, and from that moment, our lives were forever intertwined.

We were introduced through church, where my grandfather was the pastor and her parents attended. Even though we went to different schools, it didn’t take long for us to become inseparable. Weekends were spent at her house, and when she moved right up the hill from me, we practically lived together. I still laugh thinking about how she always had a ton of books she didn’t care about reading, while I was the bookworm who couldn’t put them down. She used to get so mad when all I wanted to do was read, while she wanted to pretend we were adults with jobs or families. Nicole’s imagination was endless, and her playfulness always brought out the fun in me, even when I’d rather be lost in a book.

Music was another big part of our friendship. Nicole had the most beautiful alto voice, and I was a soprano back then, so we sang together all the time. Whether it was in church or just for fun, harmonizing with her felt like the most natural thing in the world. Church was a huge part of both of our lives, and faith was truly the foundation of our friendship. We grew up together in the choir, singing praises to God, always rooted in the Bible and the teachings we learned from our families. It’s something that connected us in a way that went beyond the everyday things—it was spiritual, deep, and lasting.

Nicole was sweet, funny, and always herself around me. We had the kind of friendship where no matter how much time passed, we could pick up right where we left off. I didn’t have to explain myself to her; she just got me. That’s a kind of friendship that’s irreplaceable—one where you can truly be yourself, flaws and all, and know you’ll still be loved.

As we grew older, our lives changed, but our bond remained. I was with her through the births of her three beautiful children, and I’m the godmother to her second child. I even did her makeup for her wedding in 2000, which was such a special moment for me—especially since I was very pregnant at the time! I was so happy to see her marry the right man and start her family. Her children were her world, and she loved them fiercely.

When Nicole was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1999, my heart broke. She was my oldest friend, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her or her children growing up without their mother. But Nicole, being who she was, fought bravely for nine more years. During those years, she showed so much strength and faith—qualities that were always part of her, but shone even brighter as she battled her illness.

One of the most enduring memories I have of Nicole is how easy it was to be around her. She was the friend who was always herself, and I could be completely myself with her. There was no need for pretense, no fear of judgment—just love and understanding. That’s what I miss the most, and that’s what can never be replaced. Words really can’t capture who she was or what she meant to me. She was my best friend, in every sense of the word.

October has always been a painful month for me. Seeing all the pink for breast cancer awareness brings back the grief of losing Nicole. For years, I let that pain dictate how I moved through this month, but I’m no longer letting it control me. Instead of letting sorrow steal the joy from these weeks, I’ve decided to honor her memory by living fully, as she did, and by loving the people around me with the same open heart that Nicole always showed me.

I miss her every day, but I carry her with me in everything I do. I see her in her children, who I love as my own, and I feel her presence when I think back on all our memories—the laughter, the music, the deep conversations. Nicole was more than a friend—she was a gift from God, and I’m so grateful for the years we had together.