Has this poem touched you? She and I met while attending university together.
She died just over a week ago. We had met at one of those something aspiring future leader workshops. Turns out neither of us had any such aspirations. It went from there. We visited one another, traveled on occasion and could go years without even speaking, but it was always easy, pickup where we left off.
Usually days filled with laughter and red wine as we brought each other up to speed on what life had been doing since last time. But then 3 years ago, I had a crisis in my family, and then with my health. And she was there, coaching me along. Then it was her turn, her marriage broke down, then she was diagnosed with cancer.
She talked to me about her dying, her fears and her joys. She had many, many other friends from her other walks of life, and she kept me separate to those. Most times, when we got together, there was only the two of us. Occasionally I met her mum or her step Dad.
And once or twice I met her Dad. But throughout it all, she was a constant… and as her cancer grew worse, often she would ring me, just to talk about anything other than the cancer. To vent about her mother, her friends or her kids. Or others she felt were judging her choices in treatment, and general approach to succumbing to a terminal illness.
Not part of any family or her other friendship groups where I might otherwise be able to share her memory. Even her funeral will be thousands of km away.
But then it hits me. Alyssa September 25, at 8: And I grew up with the guy. My first memory of him was when we first got an award for something together in kindergarten. We were in the same class in 4th grade and 5th grade, as well as the selective gifted program together for 3 years, as some of the same classes in 7th and 8th grade.
While in 7th and 8th grade, he was very intelligent and had no qualms letting everyone know. He played the trombone in band, and was definitely acted like a band kid.
And then I moved away. I was lucky enough for him to come. It was then when my entire view on him changed. I decided to keep in touch with him when I could. He ended up being an amazing friend, and we had great conversations together over the next year or so.
We talked after his first day of school, I was asking how it went, and he was telling me he was ready to graduate. I told him I was ready too but wanted to enjoy senior year, and he agreed. That was the last conversation I had with him.
A week ago Sunday, Mason was in a fatal car crash. Jack September 13, at 1: As a 20 year old young man I experienced the death of my best friend who was only 18 years old at the time of his death and I was left confused and felt abandoned by the people around me that underestimated the grief I felt inside.
I was also scared and it feel so unreal that it took me a few days to acknowledge his death.Not about the death of a friend but the song that always makes me think of my friend is All Star by Smashmouth.
When we were kids we made a music video to the song. Michael Whitman February 23, at am Reply. My best friend has taken his own life 3 weeks ago, through years of depression and Mental Illness.
We had been best friends for 25 years, yet the last few years his struggles led him to be paranoid and believe I was trying to ruin his life. He convinced himself and his parents nobody liked him, in fact people hated him.
The first thing I ever wrote about my best friend was her eulogy. It had to be beautiful, obviously. I wasn’t just the best friend, I was the writer — beautiful was bare minimum. I . The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.
Death Of A Friend Sayings and Quotes Below you will find our collection of inspirational, wise, and humorous old death of a friend quotes, death of a friend sayings, and death of a friend proverbs, collected over the years from a variety of sources.
The first thing I ever wrote about my best friend was her eulogy. It had to be beautiful, obviously. I wasn’t just the best friend, I was the writer — beautiful was bare minimum.