This is something I have been thinking about considerably in recent years.
You see, I have reached that age where dear friends, friends who have seen me change from awkward child to equally awkward adult, and then again to to my awkward middle years, have most inconsiderately up and died without asking permission or ANYTHING.
This, I respectfully submit, is not only impolite but also inconsiderate.
You don’t get to buy your way into my heart and life by being decent, funny, good, and intelligent, just to suddenly make your apologies and leave. Sometimes without even any warning! And no promises even of knocking pictures off the wall or fritzing the TV signal after you have left this mortal coil.
You just died. Sometimes after an illness where, to be fair, I can see that death was better for you; sometimes with no warning at all and just the memories of a last conversation that were never intended to be Final Words.
But this is the point. That version of me, that version that only you saw and valued; that person only existed for you.
And that person died with you, never to be reborn.
I miss you, and I miss that part of me.