Friend’s funeral. It just happened. Participating in it did not help me. It’s all so strange. These inner thoughts. Why is one of your sorrows resistant? Why is one vulnerable to other sorrows?
Friend’s funeral – if I remember
Colleague. A longtime companion of misery. Work is not easy. Maybe it’s a trail? Such common torments are approaching. He gave me a break. He was smiling despite his toil. Junior. Like a little brother. I am an only child and I have lived and still live in this way. And yet. As if I had a phantom pain to my friend. Now I know it.
I don’t know if he respected me as much as I respected him. So many years of unspoken words because it would seem that they do not need to be said. He smiled at the sight of me. Me too. The conversation began to gather pace quickly. Chemistry of common topics and chemistry of like thinking and chemistry of like sense of humor and chemistry of like pace of life. Similar does not mean identical or very close. Similar means that even if this edge of wandering thoughts was so distant that it was almost imperceptible, it was still close enough that there was a bond, an attraction. Huge differences and great similarities in the right dose and sequence create this rare mixture from which friendship is born. Male friendship, female friendship, human friendship.
Friend’s funeral – a good soul
Smiling I already mentioned. I will add unselfishly. But it does not reflect anything. Single words will not tell you. If I had to describe what is closest to my feelings, it would be: refuge home. Each of us struggles with life in one way or another. Each of us needs a place where we do not have to fight. Refuge. Most often it is associated with the home. My parents 'home, my own home, my friends’ home. What kind of house does it matter. The very fact of feeling asylum is important. A safe place where I don’t need anything. And nothing will judge me, nothing will hurt me. If I am reprimanded, it is out of the goodness of my heart and concern. Such without any accretions from previous years, especially when it comes to relationships with parents.
Sometimes work is an asylum. Sometimes a place. Sometimes an activity such as reading a book. No matter what. Only the very fact of feeling safe is important.
Adam assured me that. There was something about him that made you enjoy yourself with all of yourself. I am a mature man. And yet a kind of children’s sandbox appeared with us in a magical and arbitrary manner. The younger one was a man. But I respected him. Always. I miss him, so manly. As if a hunting companion in primitive times had been trampled underfoot by a mammoth. I miss him.
I miss the sight of an orderly young man. Who has time for others. I miss this pattern, this point of reference. Without reference points, you can get lost on your own. There are so few roadside posts left. What a life … Journey in the fog.
I wish I had seen the ultimate male joy in starting a family in it. He wanted it. He tried. It had so many advantages and yet. Not that I blame his chosen one. That’s just the way life is. It’s hard to meet a good friend, acquaintance, let alone this one person for the whole life together.
But I want to believe that in this short life of his, he experienced as many good times as possible. I miss him.
Friend’s funeral – a disturbance of the sense of security
Many deaths behind me, but Adam’s death shocked me. It disturbed the sense of security. And this is a problem for me. Two unborn children behind me. This is the life I already mentioned. People try and sometimes it is not enough. We have to fall apart, surrender, no longer fight to build ourselves anew. Tiring process. Others forget about the final stage. They end up breaking up. Probably because of the lack of such good souls with you. Adam was my watchman without knowing it.
It is not easy. That’s all. I am writing to sort out. A funeral is not enough.
Too little because I knew him. Too little, because the circumstances are shocking. Screwed bike. And when I think about his injuries that I know about, it tears my heart out. I have him in front of me and I cry over what happened to him. What happened to us. Because I am just one of many who cried deeply. He was a good man.
My friend’s funeral – I regret it
Participation. I know. It will sound terrible. But when I was standing in the church at the beginning, others stood. They sat down in a moment. That’s when I saw him. His big photo. Smiling, with glasses in your favorite hairstyle. My heart broke. I was crying. I was crying.
I know. Adam’s parents made a good choice. He was just like that. But I cried. I was crying
Instead of feeling catharsis I felt a broken scab. I regret not regretting it.
A friend’s funeral – hopefully no more
A handful of us remained. People go away normally. They change jobs. They change their place of residence. Life goes on. Adam tragically passed away. Suddenly. I’m worried about our handful. What if they are gone? I’m an only child. Life stuck in four walls. This is no time to meet new people openly. More often it is just tearing off coupons. The same. Few. Favorites. This sounds inhuman? Think before you answer …