My mom's sister died when I was only seven years old. I didn't know her that well, so it didn't hit me that hard, but when I heard that my old friend Connor had died, I nearly lost it. His parents called me at my dorm room, voices choked up, and told me he had gone to a party where there was a lot of drinking, and he had consumed nearly an entire bottle of gin in fifteen minutes on a dare. By the time anyone realized something was wrong, he was brain dead from alcohol poisoning. I always hoped Connor and I would be friends until we were old men. I guess we will be, in spirit.