The Good Die Young.

I've always said that every single year, someone from the graduating class either dies during the school year, or after graduation. It's no different for the Class of 2007.

After I noticed this pattern, and pointed it out to my friends, we would speculate as to who it would be. Never in a thousand years did we picture who it was that died from our graduating class.

Chris Kidd.

He was a good kid. Respectful, kind, generous, would give you the shirt right off of his back. But first and foremost-he was my first real guy friend. His mom use to babysit me, and when we were two or three, we had baths given together, I don't remember much, but I know that his mom had pictures of us in the tub, we wore bathing suits-of course, but it was a memory that's so vague. I would always ride my bike down to his house and run up the stairs leading to the front door, and we'd chillax on the bench that sat at the edge of the porch. And talk about Ninja Turtles and Garth Brooks.

I don't remember when we quit hanging out...but I remember that I guess it was when I moved in the sixth grade. We had spray painted the door to the tree house where we had played spies and ninjas. We were always the good guys that saved the day-usually to a group of people that would be hidden in the sandbox.

I remember the time he put vanilla pudding in my hair-I got him back by dumping the cheese dip in his. There were good times. That's all I remember.

That's all I'm going to remember. We never talked in High School, but he was dating my friend, Meg. She's so torn up she couldn't go to school today.

RIP, Christopher Allen Kidd. My first friend.

Just like the branches they cut that we use to climb to get up the Fir tree, your life ended too soon.