Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Cancer

My best friend left me, does that say he wasn't a best friend at all? Because, surely, a best friend would never leave you, they'd be by your side until the end. That must be true? That is what clarifies the 'best' in best friend, surely. A best friend would never leave you.

I feel let down. I now have to go through life without a best friend. I have to head towards old age without the guy who understood me the best, standing next to me, supporting me when I am right, telling me quietly when I am wrong, carrying his share of our collective history with him, as I carry my share. I now have to go it alone.

Nobody to say to, remember when we did whatever, or so and so did that, or whoever failed at that?

Remember when?

I remember too?

It went like this.

No, it went like that.

Really, like that?

Yes, yes, just like that.

You know, I think you are right.

What happened when?

This is what happened.

Oh, yes, so it did.

Now that is all gone. He carried more than half of our collected history, so more than half has gone, because our shared memories bought us to life. Our shared memories are more than the sum of their parts, they bought life, and pizzazz, and brightness, and truth to the memories being remembered.

You left me before you joined Facebook, funny to think now that there was a life before Facebook, but that was where you left me, before you joined up. And you would have loved Facebook, it was designed just with you in mind. All that time on your hands, to chat and put your opinions out there for everyone to see, you would have loved it. And you just missed it. Is that what they mean by sliding doors moments? Is that what they mean?

You were so strong and vital and unique, you would have owned social media, but you didn't make it, blinking out just as social media blinked into life. Blink, blink. Lights, action. Silence.

We could have had such fun, so much more fun, but no, it wasn't to be, your blood turned against you. And you didn't hold up your side of this bargain we call life. You were supposed to be here still, but you are not. You and me. Not.

I'd love to see you again, even just once, to explain everything that has happened. I'd love to see the look on your face, and hear your take on it all.

“Donald trump is president.”

“What the fuck.”

The smartest man I ever knew.


The smartest men I’ve ever known? One is dead, one is insane, and one moved far, far away. I’m getting short on smart friends. And you were possibly the smartest.

We laughed, we played, we partied, we schemed, we gossiped, we played tricks, we were mean just to amuse each other. We dreamed. We were going to write our lives together. We had fun, more fun than most people were ever allowed to have, we always thought. So much fun.

Gone. Like the nights I went to the Camberwell library with my dad. Gone. Like holidays at the sea water skiing. Gone. Like happy school days. Gone, gone, gone. Like Oscar my dog. Gone. Like our youth. Gone.

You went and left me. I found a new love, Sam, you would like him. You never met him. I never got to see you and Sam. Sam would like you, would have liked you. Never to meet, even if Sam and I live until we are 100 years old. 120. 130. You are never coming back. You two are never going to meet.

I miss you every day.

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