‘Through the Eyes of a Friend’ is a heartbreakingly true story of a girl’s friendship and a woman’s loss. It’s honest, poignant, and unforgettable.

In 2018, my best friend killed herself. Since then, I’ve wanted her story out there, to let the world know more about her, our friendship, and how much her death impacted my life. 

‘Through the Eyes of a Friend’ is a heartbreakingly true story of a girl’s friendship and a woman’s loss. It’s honest, poignant, and unforgettable.

In 2018, my best friend killed herself. Since then, I’ve wanted her story out there, to let the world know more about her, our friendship, and how much her death impacted my life. 

Excerpt from Through the Eyes of a Friend

“Julie Ann, this is Kyle. Please call me either on messenger or on my phone.” He recited his number. “It’s important.”

Why was my best friend’s estranged husband leaving me a voice message?

“I need the map,” my husband, David, said through gritted teeth. He wasn’t good at navigating, even to our house, without it. I barely heard him or the kids in the backseat.

I knew. Maybe she was missing. Maybe she was in the hospital. But as much as I wanted to believe one of those scenarios, I didn’t. I hoped with all my splintering heart that what I feared wasn’t the case, but I knew.

I finally looked up from my phone when David turned too soon.

“Flip a U-turn and go back to Lake Forest. Turn right and go until you get to our neighborhood.” I told him distractedly, trying to call Kyle back on messenger. He wasn’t answering. I grabbed David’s phone from its spot on the dashboard and used it to make a note of Kyle’s phone number, having to listen to his message several times before I got the whole thing.

As quickly as I could, I dialed Kyle’s number into my own phone. I held my breath, waiting. Kyle answered just as we pulled up next to our house.

“Hello, this is Kyle.”

I got out of the car. “Kyle? This is Julie Ann.”

“Julie Ann. Ali is. . . no longer alive.”

I froze, unable to speak, my fears confirmed. “You’re kidding.” I choked out.

“I would never joke about this.”

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. I lost my ability to stand and fell to my knees. My brain split in pieces. Part of me felt the emotion and the pain of the moment, but another part of me was strangely disconnected. Perhaps it was the writer in me – the observer – idly realizing I had always thought that someone falling to their knees in despair was something cheesy that only happened in movies. I couldn’t stop the stream of tears flowing from my eyes as my breathing got difficult, but if there was ever a reason to ugly cry, this was it.

“Please tell me she didn’t kill herself.” I begged him to deny what my heart was already telling me was true.

His voice through the phone sounded almost detached. How many people had he told today? “She. . . did.”

Excerpt from Through the Eyes of a Friend

“Julie Ann, this is Kyle. Please call me either on messenger or on my phone.” He recited his number. “It’s important.”

Why was my best friend’s estranged husband leaving me a voice message?

“I need the map,” my husband, David, said through gritted teeth. He wasn’t good at navigating, even to our house, without it. I barely heard him or the kids in the backseat.

I knew. Maybe she was missing. Maybe she was in the hospital. But as much as I wanted to believe one of those scenarios, I didn’t. I hoped with all my splintering heart that what I feared wasn’t the case, but I knew.

I finally looked up from my phone when David turned too soon.

“Flip a U-turn and go back to Lake Forest. Turn right and go until you get to our neighborhood.” I told him distractedly, trying to call Kyle back on messenger. He wasn’t answering. I grabbed David’s phone from its spot on the dashboard and used it to make a note of Kyle’s phone number, having to listen to his message several times before I got the whole thing.

As quickly as I could, I dialed Kyle’s number into my own phone. I held my breath, waiting. Kyle answered just as we pulled up next to our house.

“Hello, this is Kyle.”

I got out of the car. “Kyle? This is Julie Ann.”

“Julie Ann. Ali is. . . no longer alive.”

I froze, unable to speak, my fears confirmed. “You’re kidding.” I choked out.

“I would never joke about this.”

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. I lost my ability to stand and fell to my knees. My brain split in pieces. Part of me felt the emotion and the pain of the moment, but another part of me was strangely disconnected. Perhaps it was the writer in me – the observer – idly realizing I had always thought that someone falling to their knees in despair was something cheesy that only happened in movies. I couldn’t stop the stream of tears flowing from my eyes as my breathing got difficult, but if there was ever a reason to ugly cry, this was it.

“Please tell me she didn’t kill herself.” I begged him to deny what my heart was already telling me was true.

His voice through the phone sounded almost detached. How many people had he told today? “She. . . did.”