I was 20 and going to school far, far away from home. I came down with a bad influenza and had to stay home from school. I was really sick. I was new in this small town and had made some friends, all through school, and one of them was an older student, who also lived in this town. I thought she was very nice, but I wasn't really looking to be friends with someone so much older. I had no experience with that, all my friends were my age. But there was something about her that still appealed to me. She was, as I discovered, a lot like me.

We had been friends for maybe 9 months when I had the flu. I'll never forget her act of kindness — she called to ask how I was and promised to drop by my house (which I rented) and leave two cans of chicken and noogle soup on my front porch. (Chicken and noodle soup helps when you have the flu.) She continued to say that she didn't want to come inside for the fear of coming down with the same flu. A short while later I heard her drive up to the house and leave the cans on the porch. I picked them up and took them inside after she left. Eating the chicken and noodle soup made me feel better and I was soon back in school.

For every month that passed our friendship deepened. We saw each other several times a week in the classes we took together, we started to sit next to each other, we did homework together, spent the Sundays together… And that's how we noticed that we really liked each other's company, how we had many of the same hobbies, and how much the same we were.

I was sad to leave her and her town when school finished after two years, but we promised each other to stay in touch. That was in 1986. I wasn't but gone a week and I sent her two letters and a card! She wrote back that she felt privileged. And that's how our 30-year long correspondence started. I have saved the majority of her letters and emails, they are my treasure chest.

I went back over 20 times to visit her, she also came to visit me, but not quite as often. We also traveled together, to many places. We talked on the phone and on Skype. The distance only strengthened and deepened our friendship. I felt like the luckiest person in the world to be her friend.

A little over a year ago she died, she was 77. I sat with her for nearly a week. She was weak from illness but felt comforted that I was there with her. And I wanted to be there, I was very attached to her and cared much for her. She wasn't eating much — which is normal when you are dying — but we (there were family there too) encouraged her to eat, at least a little bit. We asked her what she wanted. She replied, “chicken and noodle soup.” I fed her chicken and noodle soup, as she was too weak to hold the spoon herself, and thought back on her act of kindness, the two cans of chicken and noodle soup on my front porch in 1985. It was her last meal, she died two days later.

This woman changed my life, she influenced me more than most. I changed hers too. On her deathbed we had a chance to reminisce and reflect back on our special friendship. I'll probably never have another friendship like the one I had with her, it's one of those once in a lifetime things.