A friend of mine died. His funeral is on Sunday. I won’t attend. I live in a different country too far away to travel. You may think he may have not been such a good friend if I am not making the journey. I thought so at first but no that’s not true. He is dead. His body won’t know I am there or not. When a person dies that doesn’t mean his soul is dead.
His soul would appreciate some preyers, good thoughts and forgiveness so he rests in peace. That’s more valuable to him right now than me being there. We like to think after a long illness and painful last six months it’s the best outcome for the body — is death. He is in a better place right now. When the suffering ends it’s a relief for all for the closet people and the person suffering.
When I saw a photo of my friend in the last few days of his life, I didn’t recognise him. I didn’t think it’s him. He didn’t look like himself. The illness took away what I knew who he was. The illness ate his weight away, got his hair and the eyebrows. However, his mischievous spark and infections smile was still there. He was a person who wouldn’t want other people to be sad because he is gone.
I have a lot to thank him for. He was a good friend. A friend that would help me at times when I needed the most. He would always tell me the ugly truth when I wanted to hear it and when I didn’t. He would be the one to make me laugh when I was sobbing my life away. He introduced me to things I didn’t know. He showed me the soul and heart of jazz and classical music.
He pushed me to be better, do better and be smarter. He was a character of an old town in Vilnius. He was an intellectual with a real understanding of what a human heart is. He never judged. He observed people and life as if the passing clouds. He had million ideas. He knew the world. He knew people. It’s hard to talk about him in the past tense.
His soul is very much alive in the memories of everyone who knew him, in his children and the family. Everyone who met him wouldn’t forget him. He was the type who carried the light of the world with him. Although I haven’t spoken to him in the last six months I will miss the friendship. We were the type of friends I would pick up the phone and it would be as if we haven’t stopped talking.
I have no doubt many people will miss him and remember him often what he would say or do! His life ended here but wherever he is; I am sure he is making everyone around him laugh. Death is a beginning of something else. It’s a beginning of the unknown and we have to learn to embrace the unknown. We have to carry on being good people and lead meaningful lives.
So here is to my very good friend for always teaching me something, telling me the ugly truth and making me laugh. I miss him dearly. To lose people in this life doesn’t mean to lose them. They are with us in our hearts, thoughts and preyers.