Back when my mom died I used this blog to write about my grief. I was a lot younger then mentally, and I think I had fewer inhibitions about talking about my feelings in a public space.

Now another person in my life has died, and I feel the same urge to write, but I feel less comfortable writing about what I am feeling, I want to be fair to him and he was an intensely private person.

Maybe that's why I feel so sad, because when I met him he threw up all sorts of walls and didn't seem to want to know me at all. Then during the golden time off our friendship (maybe about 2 years ago) we talked about lots of things. It's hard when you know someone and you know that because of who they are you only really scraped the surface of their thoughts.

Then when they die very suddenly, it's the golden moments that come back, not the year of silence that followed, or the worry about losing touch with them that has come when it is clearly far too late.

Why are we getting so old? Why do the bad things seem to signal the passage of time and not the good. When things are good the world seems timeless, then when the world is bad time rushes back in and shows much how much space there is between everything that happens to us.