A friend died today.
He was as old as me. As us.
I guess I knew there was something wrong when a friend pinged me and asked “did you know him.”
It was already in the past. Even through the haze of a vacation, of a peaceful day and such, I knew it was past.
I wish we could say we do not expect deaths at this age. We might be 25 but there have been those friends lost to accidents, to sickness and to sheer fate. It doesn’t make each death less potent.
I had mostly lost in touch with him. Every now and then we would catch on Facebook, when he would comment on something on my profile. Or I would laugh about something he did. That was what we mostly were… Facebook friends who had been college buddies.
There were times when I thought I would call him and didn’t. We forget. We forget so many things when we are busy running around to make something of ourselves.
The thing is… life is never as long as we think it is. And we can never get anything done… Maybe we should send those messages when we think of them, take that leap when we feel we should.
Edit: Ironically, his FB page is a memorial right now. FB allows you to write messages and immortalizes that page. A nice thing of FB’s behalf. FB was what keeps so many of us in touch in a world when memories are so short. Yet, the grief is too personal to share on a wall.
His life, the minutes of it can be traced out on that wall. His last message was celebrating the weekend and the plans he had… merely 24 hours later, he was dead and the first “R.I.P” message appeared as a comment on that status message. Is that morbid? Is that just damn freaky? Is it scary that we are so much in touch with someone that every minute of someone’s life can be cataloged on a social network? Or is it a celebration that we knew that he was happy in those last few moments? Do we want to know?