On that afternoon, she finally explained to her mother that she was abusing an ephedra-based diet pill. While she only admitted abusing the pills, her mother questioned her daughter’s poor eating habits. Within two weeks, she began intense counseling. Her doctor was monitoring her food intake.

For the first time in many months, she was smiling and gained twelve pounds. She even instigated an argument because I had approached her mother. With the courage to smile and the power to debate; I could not resist feeling that telling a trusted adult, in this case, her mother, was the right action to take.

During our senior year of high school, she was hospitalized. While she fought to overcome her ‘battle’ it had consumed who she was as a person. For many teenagers, emphasis is placed on sports and academics. Her body image was important to her; it was such a crucial aspect of her life, it was an unhealthy obsession.

She was invited to walk across the stage with our graduating class. Although, she was forced to decline the invitation as her strength did not allow her to walk across the stage at our graduation rehearsal. How could this be? I was supposed to be her strength.

A diploma was given to her. Her cap and gown hanged beside her as she rested, wrapped in her pink sheets. Once again, her beautiful smile returned to her face. As tears filled her eyes, “this is the happiest day of my life,” she shared.

With a year past since our graduation, many of our friends parted ways. She moved from the hospital, back home. I attended my first year of college as planned. Her emails always brightened my day and our intricate discussions continued in endless messages each week.

The messages stopped. A month’s time went by before I heard from her again. “I was ashamed to tell you. I knew I had to call you and I do not want you to be mad at me,” her voice quivered. She was hospitalized, weighing only seventy-three pounds.

As the summer continued, I made my final plans to head south for a week. She wished me luck; I reminded her to call if she needed anything. I returned home and three days later, I received an email from her boyfriend. “She lost her ‘battle’ this morning,” that is the only line I can remember from the message.

While all along she assured me that I was her strength, I now realize; she is my strength. She was a wonderful friend and her ‘battle’ was courageous. Her essence will live on forever – how could it not?

“In memory of her beauty, her strength - her friendship…”

--Lisa Lombardo