The loss of a friend

I told my friend to stop working. Take a break. A sudden pause during the morning of a busy day, and, for the first time, he called out unwell. Doing everything that he could, to make the day successful for others, he went home to rest. He died the following week. I cant help running down the avenue of questions. Why didn’t his doctor see something? Why didn’t he recognize the warning signs? Would it have made a difference? None of us expected the outcome. Positive signs, though very limited hung in the air giving us hope, which then feels so wicked, when you receive the call that he is gone. It remains like electricity, as it shocks as each time you remember. The ache of tears as you over, and over, again and again see his face, which can only now be a memory. Grief comes in barrels, muddied bricks, taunting names, and pain like kidney stones and kicked temples from steel tipped boots.

Being a widow, I thought I understood death. I thought I had earned the medal and a high placing title. Its funny though, how every time, it’s new, it’s different and it stings like you haven’t been stung before. Do you ever get prepared?

We worked together, we had laughed together, got angry together, laughed so much while lost in a rental car in Chicago. He had looked after my cat, he had known my husband, they shared a favorite book. He had just sent a text encouraging my playwriting ambitions, we had just emailed about bandanas for a corporate job. It’s cruel when then its over, like a balloon bursting. Bang, gone, even though you saw it get larger and larger and larger, why is it such a surprise when its no longer there?

I’ll make the promises we all make. To not take so much for granted, to value the moments, to get the priorities right, despite them being different from others. To be strong, to find peace with days and joy in moments. I hope to be a supportive friend, who listens rather than instructs. For his wife, I will shoot the people who say I know how you feel

You just never become an expert at others dying. Is it because you become an expert at living?

Rest easy Michael Riley.