A Love Beyond Time: My Best Friend’s Final Gift

There are some souls we meet in life who feel like home—souls who understand us in ways no one else ever could. They walk with us, even when separated by time and distance. My best friend was one of those souls. And now, she is gone.

For the last few days, I have been mourning the sudden passing of my best friend. She lived in Vietnam, oceans apart from me, yet our bond transcended distance and time. We met in sixth grade, two oddballs who never quite fit in but found home in each other.

We were placed in an honor class specializing in English, but our friendship had nothing to do with school. It was a soul connection—one that never faded, no matter how much time or distance separated us. When I left for Singapore after ninth grade, we kept our friendship alive through handwritten letters. Whenever we reunited, it was as if no time had passed. The connection wasn’t about words or proximity—it was something deeper, something unshaken by time.

But life happened. I lost myself in survival mode, navigating the struggles of early adulthood, moving to the U.S., dealing with betrayals and toxic relationships. I became withdrawn, emotionally unavailable. I withdrew from everyone, including my best friend. Still, she remained patient, never pressing, never demanding. She sensed it. She never pushed.  She simply existed in my life, waiting for the moments when I was ready to reconnect. Whenever I visited Vietnam, I reached out, but I kept our conversations light. Looking back, I realize I had spent so much energy trying to heal the wounds inflicted by those who hurt me that I neglected the people who truly loved me.

A Reunion, A Promise, and Life’s Unexpected Turns

In December 2022, she finally got her U.S. visa and stayed at my home for ten beautiful days with her mother. We traveled, ate delicious food, watched the snow-capped mountains, ran with dogs on the beach, and had deep, soul-baring conversations. For the first time in years, I let her in. For the first time in years, I poured my heart out to her, sharing secrets, feelings, pain—things I had locked away. She was the safe space I had forgotten I needed.

The day before she left, I hugged her tightly, tears in my eyes."I wish you lived closer. My favorite people always seem to be so far away," I told her. She smiled and said she would return—next time with her brother. We planned a road trip to see the ancient Sequoia trees.

But life had other plans.

Six months later, her mother passed suddenly from last-stage cancer. It was shocking, but amidst the grief, I felt grateful—she had fulfilled her mother’s dream of visiting America before she passed. I was honored to have been part of their journey, to have shared their final moments of joy together. Her mother’s death changed her, and I could feel it even from afar. She embraced life more fully and fearlessly. I admired her deeply. I never told her that she was my inspiration. I should have.

A Premonition I Didn’t Understand

During the full moon of September 2023, I found an old letter she had written to me in 2004 when I first moved to the U.S.

"No matter the distance, I am always beside you," she had written.

I felt an urgency to reach out. That night, I took photos of the letter and messaged her and another childhood friend. I poured my heart out, apologizing for my emotional distance in the past. I told them I loved them, that I had never forgotten them. We laughed at my sudden emotional outpour, blaming it on the full moon.

She responded with warmth, saying she had sensed something was wrong back then but respected my need for space. She forgave me without hesitation. "What matters is that whenever we reconnect, it’s as if nothing has changed."

I didn’t realize it then, but this was our final goodbye. Now, looking back, I see the universe was guiding me. The full moon was illuminating what needed to be said. Mars was retrograde, a time of reflection and revisiting the past. I had unconsciously followed my feelings, letting cosmic energy move through me, nudging me toward closure I didn’t even know I needed.

Another Loss, Another Lesson

In early 2024, my father passed away from last-stage cancer. His rapid decline left me reeling, sending me deeper into my spiritual awakening. I retreated inward, focusing on healing my inner child, releasing old wounds, and rediscovering myself. I watched from afar as my best friend continued her journey—traveling the world, living boldly, breaking barriers. She was a divorcee in Vietnam, a woman who defied cultural norms, who embraced life fully and unapologetically. She was my inspiration, though I never told her. I was waiting for the perfect moment to visit her, to tell her in person. I never imagined that moment would never come.

Then, just a few days ago, a school friend messaged me:

"Do you know if she’s okay? Her last Facebook post sounds like a goodbye."

My heart pounded. I hadn’t been on social media for weeks. I opened her profile and saw her final post:

"Goodbye to all my friends. I have been struggling with illness. Today I don’t feel so well, so I’m taking a day off. lol My mom is here to take me to my next journey. Health is not important, the spirit is. Love you all."

I reached out to her brother in a panic, praying it wasn’t true. But the confirmation came—she had passed. I later found out that, just like my father, she had also been suffering from late-stage cancer. And suddenly, I understood why she never told me. She didn’t want to trigger the pain I was still healing from. She knew I would have grieved with her, and she wanted to protect me.

That realization was bittersweet. It filled me with both gratitude and sorrow—grateful for the love we shared, and aching for the moments that would never come. The pain of not saying goodbye was softened by knowing she made her final transition on her own terms, the way she always lived—graceful, strong, independent.

A Wake-Up Call from Beyond

For two days, I lay in bed, crying for her. Crying for the pain she must have endured alone. Crying for the goodbye I never got to say. Grief washed over me in waves. Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I get a chance to say goodbye? The guilt, the regret, the pain were overwhelming.

But during my full moon ritual bath, seeking to release my grief, something clicked.

"What is this trying to teach me?" I asked the universe.

And the answer came—Live now. Love now. Stop waiting.

For so long, I had focused on healing my wounds, giving energy to the pain, trying to mend the past. But in doing so, I had neglected the love, the joy, the people who truly mattered. Healing is necessary, but healing is not the destination—living is. My best friend’s passing was a reminder that life is fleeting, that love must be expressed now, not later.

She is gone, yet she is more present than ever. I feel her in the wind, in the warmth of the sun, in the hummingbirds that visit my garden. She is whispering to me, urging me to embrace joy, to travel, to love fiercely and freely. I forgave myself that night. I let go of the weight of unspoken words, knowing she already understood. And I made a promise—to live, to love, and to never take another moment for granted.

If you are reading this, let this be your reminder, too. Say what you need to say. Love your people deeply. Don’t wait for life to slow down to start living it. The time is now.

Bittersweet as it may be, I now see this as the gift she left me. The final lesson in a lifelong friendship.

Thank you, my dearest friend, for all the love, for all the lessons. I know you are still here, watching over me, just as you always have. I love you.

Until we meet again...

With so much love and gratitude 💜✨

Solarys