Somewhere else

I’ve received news that a dear friend has died. It’s a shock, I’m sad and as I write, a little teary.

Death is so final.

I’ve already had the conversation with some friends that I won’t be attending their funerals. You can’t deny a funeral. After the last funeral I attended I decided that I wouldn’t go to another of a friend. I’ve told friends that when they die, I’ll forget that they are dead. I’ll imagine instead that they’ve moved abroad for a fantastic new life and it’s just impossible for us to get to meet up. I’ll imagine that we think of each other often and fondly, reliving our best times and planning to get together soon to do it all again.

Mike’s partner won’t be able to play my game. He’ll feel the loss, he’ll be bereft, and nothing that we do will help.

Still, my plan is that I’ll forget that Mike has gone. He’s just not here, he decided to up sticks and leave, he’s taken his beloved dog, Max with him. He’s wandering down a beach, ankle deep in the surf, looking like a movie star. He’ll stop at the bar and order Mateus rose even though he previously thought he hated it, it must be the view that makes the difference. He’ll want one more drink before he hits the road, maybe another for a night cap. His garden will be immaculately groomed but ready for a party. I’ll look forward to us all dancing in a beach bar near his new place and I’ll keep an eye out for exhibitions we might go to back here in case he visits.

Soon, but for now I can’t forget, so I’m spending time remembering.