Missing you…

About three weeks ago I got a phone call from the son of a really good friend of mine and he said that my friend had died. I never dealt with the loss of anyone before – I don’t know how people feel about death, but I always lived my life as if I was going to die on the same day, because that for me was something: the notion of that really affected me when I was a child and realised everything could die. I realised that I had to say to my parents and the people I loved that I loved them, every day if possible, because I didn’t know when I was going to go, and I loved them so much that I wanted them to know how much I cared about them if I was going to go or if they were going to go at some point. So this was my attitude towards death, and sometimes my fears were mostly based on living rather than dying, because I was more afraid of living, because I believe that when you are alive you hurt more and you hurt others and then you have to ask for forgiveness and forgive them, and so it’s all this cycle that some people are not really aware of; but at least for me it was something that I found really hard to do.

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