Alyssa Francheska Hardin

Today, completely by accident, I learned that my childhood best friend Alyssa passed away nearly three years ago. I went looking for her out of curiosity, hoping to see where life had taken her, only to find her obituary instead. My heart is broken. Alyssa was a huge part of my childhood. We met as little girls living in the same apartment complex and spent several years together before she and her mom moved to Florida. Even after that, we would reconnect from time to time throughout our lives. It was never unusual for years to pass between conversations, which somehow makes this news even harder to process. Some of my favorite childhood memories include her. One day after a huge rainstorm, we went out to the playground and covered each other completely in mud from head to toe. We came home looking absolutely ridiculous, and while her mom was understandably less than thrilled, she lovingly cleaned us up, got us bathed, and found us clean clothes to wear. We spent countless nights at sleepovers, survived the Furby craze together, pretended we were the Spice Girls, and raided her grandma's basement bar for martini olives so we could make our own "water martinis." Those memories still make me smile. Alyssa was spirited, kind, artistic, creative, and beautiful inside and out. She had a way of making friends wherever she went. Later in life, whenever we'd reconnect, she was still the same Alyssa I remembered—funny, warm, and somehow always looking absolutely gorgeous in every selfie she posted. And let's be honest, nobody wore scene-girl hair better than she did. I'm struggling to find the right words because this loss feels so strange. I already missed her because of distance and time, but now I'll miss her forever. I'll always be grateful that she was part of my story and such an important part of my childhood. Rest easy, Alyssa. Thank you for the memories, the laughter, and the friendship. I'll carry those pieces of you with me always. I already missed you, Alyssa. Now it's permanent. And that hurts more than I can explain. Love you always, Sharon. 🖤