My friend died the other day.
A few years had passed when I unexpectedly bumped into them in a supermarket some months back. Social media had allowed us to occasionally touch base remotely, but the level of communication between us was, at best, sparse. Only in their 50s, death had claimed them far too soon.
We had once been intimately close; deep conversations taking place about the meaning of life in the wee small hours of the morning whilst parked up on a roundabout looking for cars to pull.
We were both cops in a previous life and night turn had a habit of providing the space and tranquility to discuss stuff that we’d probably never have explored with those we went home to.
On hearing the news, following their short dignified combat with cancer, I took to social media to express my significant sadness. I wrote passionately about my cherished memories and in particular how proud I was of them when they’d achieved a key role within the organisation that had dominated our early lives and shaped our futures. I acknowledged too, the devastation that would be felt by their family and wider circle of friends.
For a brief moment I felt happy as I raised a glass and privately thanked them for our friendship; in the morning, after a restless night, I felt lost.
I re-read my post and the reality of my folly had a haunting clarity: I’d never told them about those incredible moments and how they’d made me feel.
Life is precious, short, crowded, and often precarious. Sweating the small stuff tends to drown out the really important connections, and before we know it the moment we promised ourselves to catch-up and tell those close to us and the ones who played vital roles in our understanding of the universe has passed.
I’ve started my rehabilitation by dropping a simple “hello” to those I’ve allowed to slip further away. Like my departed friend, they too deserve to know how they contributed to my life story whilst we are still here to have the candid conversation. I’d recommend that you don’t duplicate my regret.
© Ian Kirke 2025
@ iankirke.bsky.social
Title Photograph by Christian Lue on Unsplash.