We were the Christians, we kind of liked the irony of us both being, you know, like all intelligent people, atheists. He was funny. He was smart. He knew stuff. He wasn't afraid of life.
We had a short, intense affair in the beginning. We hadn't seen much of each other just lately. Oh, you know, life happened.
I stuck my foot in it a year, or so ago, when he was posting many and varied pictures from exotic locations he was visiting. I wrote on Facebook,
"What's going on, Christian, have you been diagnosed with a terminal disease and are doing the old bucket list?"
Yes, you guessed it, the answer to that was yes.
"Don't stress," he said. "We'll catch up and I'll tell you all about it over a beer."
We never caught up. He died yesterday.
It is very sad. He was a good guy.
I guess it doesn't really matter anymore? Catch up, don’t catch up, he won’t be bothered about it now. But, I wish I'd got his take on what it was like to face death, it would have been something to hear. I wish I’d looked him the eye and listened to what he had to say. Too late.
For every friend who dies, we are less.
The more people who die who knew your younger self, the more your younger self is lost… until all you are left with is this wretched moment in the present.
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