Last night around 2 Erin called me sobbing. She told me that our friend Amelia had died. When we were all living in the dorms (Erin and Amelia lived across the street from me in Hamilton), Amelia had trouble being tired all the time and bruising easily. After some scary tests and a misdiagnosis for mono, she was diagnosed with leukemia.

She spent the next four years undergoing different treatments, including stem cell transplants. Sometimes the treatments seemed to work - Erin said that just last month she was doing well and they thought the chemotherapy was helping. She spent those years in and out of the hospital, sometimes living at Sacred Heart or in Portland for weeks. She tried to continue her anthropology classes but sometimes had to focus completely on treatment.

Amelia and I didn't hang out that often. I'd run into her at the Rec Center or on 13th or at the EMU and we'd chat - about tons of things, not just her illness. She never let the cancer consume her life.

I still remember the first time I saw her without hair. She was wearing a hat and took it off the second I saw her, showing me her beautiful bald head. She seemed vulnerable and stronger than ever at the same time. She kept her hair short after that - I don't know if it never got a chance to grow back between treatments of if she preferred it that way. I loved her soft, mousy-brown hair.

I can't remember a time I saw Amelia depressed or overwhelmed. I'm sure she had those moments - probably many. But she had a way of putting everyone around her at ease, making them feel better about her situation - as if she wanted to comfort us. I will always remember her best at the On The Rocks Friday concerts in the amphitheater. She knew every song by heart and sat in the front rows with a huge grin on her face.

I can't believe that I've lost a friend. I'm not even 23, and people my age aren't supposed to die. I can't even imagine what this loss is like for her closest friends, her boyfriend and her family. I now have a slightly - slightly slightly - better idea of what my mom has had to do so many times since being diagnosed with cancer a decade ago. I still can't imagine what she went through having to say goodbye to the many women who supported her during her battle, and whom she supported during theirs.

It's not fair.

But like Amelia, I refuse to become lost in my anger, to seek someone or something to blame. I feel so incredibly grateful that I knew her and that I am lucky enough that she influenced me. Even the pain and fear Amelia must have felt couldn't conquer her loving spirit and bubbly personality. I don't know what I believe happens to us after death, but I somehow can't shake the feeling that her energy - her determination, her compassion, her love of life - remain here even though her body is gone. What I do know, though, is that we all lost something yesterday. The world won't ever be the same.

I'll miss you, Amelia.