My friend Nick died this week. It was an accident.
I haven’t written anything since because I didn’t feel I had the words. Even if I did, I don’t know how you appropriately write about a 23-year old friend and former coworker who happened to be a brilliant comedian, an outrageous filmmaker, and a giver of unrivaled bear hugs, when he dies. There is nothing I can say that makes sense of it, or is somehow comforting, or profound in a way that is inspiring.
There has been a lot of death this week and I am so shaken. I want to write because it helps me think and move on—but I do not want to write about what shook me, because this blog is not a diary and I hate to lend any sense of voyeurism to such profound sadness. So this is the last I am going to say about it, because I feel guilty when people say “I’m sorry for your loss,” like it was really my loss and not mostly his family’s or, really, the whole world’s damn loss.
I miss my friend. Hug your friends. That won’t stop them from being taken away from you and from their families but it will help you heal when all your memories are loving ones; what else can we do?