On Monday, March 31 at 8 p.m., I will sorrowfully witness the death of five friends I have cherished for three and a half years. Five friends that have made me burst out into fits of laughter, caused tears to run down my cheeks in moments of sadness, been a source of inspiration for my song obsessions, and, above all, allowed me to escape from the trauma of high school for a blissful 30 minutes.

I’m talking about the “How I Met Your Mother” series finale of course. Wait, what were you thinking?

When I first heard about the show from my brother who claimed that it was one of his all-time favorites, I took the conversation as a potent warning that this would not be a show I would enjoy. Like all younger siblings, I naturally judged my taste in television shows to be far superior than that of my older counterpart.

Filled with boredom one Sunday afternoon the summer before freshman year, I found myself watching the eighth episode of the fifth season of “How I Met Your Mother”: “The Playbook”. I can still remember my amusement when Barney, the ladies-man of the group, convinced a foolish woman at the bar that he was part of a secret space organization entitled Secret NASA, or SNASA.

“Do you go to the moon and stuff?” the woman asked, awestruck.

“Well, not the moon you’re familiar with,” said Barney coyly. “But I have been to the…Smoon.”

*Cue my unflattering cackle*

Though the outrageous, dry humor of the show obviously appeals to my taste, I have come to realize that who I’ve really come to fall in love with are the characters.

As odd as it may seem, I truly do consider Ted, Robin, Marshall, Lily, and Barney to be my dear friends. In the three and half years I’ve watched the show, I have rolled my eyes knowingly at Ted’s 200th heartbreak, lived vicariously through Lily and Marshall’s playful marriage, completely lost it at Barney’s pickup lines, and snorted at Robin’s furious attempts to ward off her adoring coworker Patrice.

Writers Carter Bays and Craig Thomas have created something that I think it absolutely remarkable and utterly commendable. The characters are not portrayed to have idealistic, opulent lifestyles in which problems can be solved with foolish solutions or the swipe of an American Express. Rather, any struggle that they endure—failure at work, the loss of a family member or utter heartbreak— is portrayed in its entirety, fully displaying the natural anger and frustration of the characters in response to their miseries, and allowing the emotions of the characters to seep out of the television screen and into the homes of their viewers.

Don’t be fooled: though the show depicts the characters’ downs, it certainly does not skimp out on the good times the friends share—the quest for the best burger in New York City, finding a doppelganger for each member of the gang, or simply sharing a beer on the porch—as well as countless other instances that they are there for one another, in good times and in bad.

The feel-good show renews my belief in fate, love, and above all, friendship. I can only hope that when I am older, working, and on my own, I too have an inseparable group of friends that not only accompanies me on wild adventures, but sits down on the couch with me after those adventures, armed with a cup of tea and a trove of inside jokes. Friends are, they say, the family you choose.

I do not know what I will do without my favorite television show or my five favorite friends next year, nor do I want to think about it. For now, I guess I’ve have to wait for the March 31 finale that is sure to be legen—wait for it and I hope you’re not lactose intolerant because the second half of this word is—DARY!