Could you please help correct this story written by me and my friend? Please...

Please help correct this story written by me and my friend Jiem. Please... I need your help. Thank you.

Gordon was born on the 10^th of November 1995. He had been my best friend. His parents had raised him to be the inheritor of their business.

It would have been his 19^th birthday that day. I was at the funeral, watching, looking at him lying breathless in his coffin.

Just two years before, the two of us had attended college together. He had been a business management student and I a pharmacy student.

One day, I called out to him on the campus. He didn’t bother to respond. Having moved closer, I asked him, ‘Where have you been?’ He said he had been with the new friends he met in school. When I asked him what he had been doing with them, he answered, ‘Nothing at all.’ With anger in his eyes, he stared at me. Then, he walked away.

After that incident, I didn’t talk to him anymore. Actually, it took a year or so when we had no conversation at all. I had a bad feeling that those new friends of his hadn’t been a good influence on him.

The next year, his mom phoned me and asked me if there was anything wrong with him. She said her son had told her that he wasn’t attending school anymore. I was shocked by what I heard. The truth was that he was always attending classes in school.

I went to the apartment where he had been staying. I was about to knock at the door when I saw smoke coming from under the door. I thought there was a fire inside, so I knocked as hard as I could. He came out with big bags under his eyes. It seemed to me that he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. I saw three other men sitting on the couch, smoking meth.

Shocked by what I had seen, I ran away. I didn’t even say a word to him. I phoned his mom and told her that he was doing drugs.

The next day, her mom came to school. Then after school, we went to the apartment, where he had been staying. He wasn’t there. Since then, I hadn’t seen him.

Well, it was last week when I was having dinner at home with my parents and his parents. We were talking about how we missed him.

Scarcely a few moments had passed when his shadow seemed to be in front of me. I blinked. It seemed that he was crying, feeling sorry for what he had done, realizing that drugs would really never do him any good. In my mind, I hugged him tight to make him feel how much I loved him.

The next day, his mother phoned my parents and told them that she had already found him. She said that he had been found sitting on a street corner somewhere in Manila, so she took him home. She said she’d take him to the hospital.

We followed them to the hospital, but when we got there, the doctor pronounced him dead.