When your best friend dies you never really get over it. Because of the profound effect they have on your life you naturally throughout the day will remember a joke they made or something hilarious that you did together and crack a smile, or even laugh out laugh on a good day if you're lucky. These moments however are always followed by the soul swallowing reminder of the reality that these memories are frozen in time due to the fact that your friend has lost the luxury of being alive. Every time you make a new friend and become close enough to say something or do something profound and heartfelt for your new someone you start to hope and pray that your efforts are good enough to prevent yourself losing another important person again. You always wonder what potential your future with your posthumous friend could have had. There are times where you think of them and you feel happy or sad or angry or melancholy or lonely or warm or destructive or sometimes all of the above at once. Deep down you know that this sequence is all selfish and in vain because your friend is in a better place and nothing is going to change that. Ultimately that first moment of remembrance each day recounting the joke or the memory that made you grin is worth it, even though it is followed by the inevitable storm of mixed emotions, because in that glimmer of a moment you forget your friend is dead and that you won't ever hear their voice saying new words again that aren't preserved in home movies and Instagram videos. That moment of their immortality is the greatest moment to grieving best friend, and for me it happens even more frequently on November 23 each year. 4 years since the final breaths of my comrade Geraldine Farrugia. The G-Hawk. The Lesbian Queen. Innocent Thighs. Mistaken Virginity. The original Child Of The Universe. Geraldine, I wish you were here... ♥️❤️💛💚💙💜
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