Just... wanted to say that I lost one of my closest and dearest friends the other day. The body was found Saturday 30th August, I received confirmation yesterday on the 31st from his Sister. He died on the 22nd and was alone in his house the entire time. A heart attack at age 37, only an hour after he last messaged me. It doesn't quite feel real. I never replied to his message, it was pretty close-ended, and I thought I'd speak when we next had the time. Besides, he'd proven me wrong, and I didn't want to give him the pleasure of letting him know that - but in a strange way, that's fitting.
A week passed, and I didn't suspect a thing, as not hearing from him for a week was possible. But other people got concerned, they sent a welfare check to his house. The police asked for next of kin. We didn't know his family, so I had to find them. I was pretty certain, but getting it confirmed? I just... I don't get it.
This man, he helped me through some of my worst moments. I would not be the person I am today without him. He was sarcastic, a member of the grammar police, and ever so stoic, and yet, his heart was so loving. He was always there. Always. He was a constant. Other friends came and went and returned, but he was always there.
He'd calm me down with a logical approach, and when I apologised, he would chastise me for being stupid enough to think I needed to be sorry. It would not be a lie that this man saved my life at least once. He became a brother to me... and I'm just so sorry I never showed him how much I loved and appreciated his presence.
To think I will never hear your quips, see your annoyance, experience your deep kindness. I love you my brother. Please rest well in heaven. I will meet you again, ideally in forty years, please do not forget me in your eternal reward, for I will never forget you.
Rest in Peace, James. I will carry your body - and I will carry whatever you wish accomplished. I just need to know what that is.