This evening I had the opportunity to share part of Emily’s story with a group of people who work at Tennessee Donor Services. It’s now the second time I’ve been invited to share Emily with others since I signed up as a volunteer with the organization, and this time I was given a full 30 minutes to share.

As I told my therapist about the event today, I explained to her that I have such mixed emotions about opportunities like this. On one hand, I love sharing Emily with people, and she’s got an incredible story (minus the ending). I feel like it’s something that can really make a difference in the world, and that aligns with Emily’s desire to help anyone she could.

But, at the same time, I don’t really feel worthy of telling her story. I’m just a minor side character in “the story of Emily,” and the only reason I’m the one telling it is because she’s not here to do it herself.

Emily Had a Life Before She Met Me

Emily made such a huge impact on me that I often lose track of how little time we actually spent together in the span of our lifetimes. We each lived for decades without each other, and our stories were well underway when our lives intersected. And, honestly, some of the largest parts of Emily’s story happened in that time before our paths crossed.

I thought about this a lot as I prepared for today’s event because the entire first part of my presentation was about events I wasn’t present for. I never knew Emily as a child, nor did I know her for the majority of her time at MTSU. Everything I know about everything that happened in 2017 came from Emily, her family, or other people who walked beside her through all of that.

Because of this, it feels a bit strange to tell a story that I was never present for. Am I doing Emily’s story justice? Are the pieces of her life I share the same things she would have chosen to mention? Does it make me a fraud to share something that isn’t even mine?

I wish I could ask her these questions and so many others. I wish I could just sit down and ask her to tell me her story in its entirety, like she would if she were reading me a bedtime story. There’s so much about her life before me that I’d still like to know.

Imagining a Different Story

Although I’d love to hear her story the way it actually occurred, I also wonder what it would have been like if I’d met her at a different point in her life. What would that have looked like? Would we have still become as close if our paths had crossed in an earlier chapter?

Emily and I shared some mutual interests, but we lived very different lives. In college, she was very involved in her dance company (MPAC) and Wesley. Meanwhile, I pretty much lived in the music building. Even if we’d been on campus at the same time, the chances of us meeting would have been slim, especially when you consider the size of the student population at MTSU. At best, I may have gone to an MPAC performance or she may have gone to a concert I performed in when she took Music Appreciation.

Even if we weren’t closer in age, there are other ways our lives could have intersected, but they would have likely yielded very different results.

For example, I was a student teacher during Emily’s freshman year in high school. What if I had student taught at her school? I would have met her because she was in band, but our connection would have been very different.

I often wish that I’d gotten more time with her, but given the life Emily had before we met, I doubt she would have even noticed me, let alone want to be my friend.

Should I Be The One Who Helps Her Legacy Live On?

To say that I love Emily is the biggest understatement in the world. I don’t just love her the way I love ice cream or Grey’s Anatomy. My feelings for Emily are far beyond anything I could ever convey with words. If I’d been given the choice, I would have paid any price or even given up my own life for Emily to have enjoyed more time here on Earth. I was (and still am) willing to walk through fire, take a bullet, or face my biggest fears for her. The way I feel about Emily is something I had never experienced before we met, and I’m fairly certain I’ll never feel that exact same way about anyone else regardless of how much longer I remain alive.

But, regardless of how I feel about her, should I be the one telling her story in her place now that she’s gone? Am I the one she would have chosen if she was asked to select a person?

I just don’t know.

Emily and I discussed many things throughout the duration of our friendship and romantic relationship. I knew her stance on pretty much every political issue you could think of. I knew her personal views regarding religion. And I knew nearly every choice she would have wanted for pretty much every medical scenario that could have ever happened to her.

But, we never discussed this situation. We never discussed death beyond my insistence that she would outlive me given our age difference, and me telling her she was not allowed to die first because I didn’t want to live in a world without her by my side. Yet, here we are, and I never got a roadmap for any of this despite Emily’s love of planning for the worst case scenario in every situation.

However, here’s what I do know:

• Emily’s story deserves to be told.
• She’s not here to do it.
• I love sharing pieces of Emily with anyone who will listen.
• Sharing Emily’s story gives me a reason to keep going at a time when I really would rather just give up.

Nothing I do or say will bring Emily back. I know it, and it sucks. But she fought entirely too hard and overcame more than any person should ever have to for her story to just end the way it did.

I may not be the best person for the job, and I may never do her story justice, but until she gives me a sign to stop or a more important person in her story asks me not to, I’m going to keep talking about Emily. Her story will live on.