a small, personal note about loving and losing your friends

A year ago today, I lost one of my best friends to cancer. Losing your best friend is heart-wrenching, and I hope it never happens to you. Only a tiny number of people on earth really think you’re funny (the rest laugh to be polite) and deeply understand you, and these friendships are rare and irreplaceable. For 16 years, he always knew (somehow) when I needed him the most, and knew all the embarrassing, stupid shit I’d done and loved me anyway.

I miss his snarky, filthy sense of humor, and I miss hearing him say, “What are you wearing?” when I answer the phone. I miss how he called me Clyde instead of Kate. I miss how I never knew what was going to come out of his mouth and it made me funnier because I was expected to one-up him. A few days before he died, he called me because I’d been upset about something and was struggling over some decisions. His advice made a huge impact and the gist of it was this: you’re in the wrong story, you need to get out, life is short.

It’s a year later and it’s still raw for everyone else who loved him, too – his courageous and beautiful partner, and his many many other friends. When he loved you, he loved you forever. SO – love your friends and tell them you love them. Be nice to each other. Let go of crap that doesn’t matter. Call instead of texting – it’s nice to hear someone’s voice say “Hi.” What if it’s the last time you hear it? Help each other clean up a mess and keep each other’s secrets.

I love you, PY, always. Save me a seat, wherever you are. I’ll meet you there someday, and you can tell me dirty jokes until I fall off my barstool from laughing (and you’ll make fun of me, then help me up).

“The song has ended but the melody plays on.”

-k.