A friend of mine died on Monday night.
He was a good friend of mine from high school. I met him in 1983 when we were in Ms. Loper's 9th grade American history class, and I remember our first conversation was over some music he was writing on a scrap of paper. It wasn't something you typically saw on a piece of paper in a history class and I found it interesting.
The conversation was brief and would have faded into oblivion eventually, but his untimely death not happened the other night. Since I heard about it, everything we did together has been coming back in waves. I guess that's what happens when you lose someone.
Talking with my mother yesterday, I compared it to the time when my dad found out one of his friends died. He had been one of the many fathers who built a soccer club from scratch many years ago. I remember the shock on his face when he told my mother the news. The disbelief in his voice and the absolute shock he was displaying was unlike my dad, who was most assuredly a stiff upper lip type.
That is what I'm feeling right now.
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