In 2023, I thought a lot about

an old friend

Published on

December 11, 2023

It’s strange how people come and go from your life. Just think how many you have known. Some for a long time, some a short while. Some you form a deep connection with, others a shallow one. They are part of your many networks, large and small. Your relationship with them follows the rhythms of work, hobbies, your neighbourhood, your communities.

Regardless of how you met, or the network you are both part of, or the depth of the relationship, people fade away. You from them and them from you. Some you forget entirely. Others stick in your memories. More often than not, there’s no reason for it. You “lose touch”, “drift apart”, or other blameless metaphors.

One person who I did not forget, I did lose touch with. We drifted apart. I faded from his life and he from mine.

We were your stereotypical early noughties bored suburban kids. A little jaded and cynical. Kids with no interest in the monotony, petty social order and pointless rules of high school.

We thought we were punk as fuck but really we were just frustrated teenagers. Doc Martens or Converse covered in marker pen slogans, worn denim, black nail polish, bad leather jackets, hundreds of badges and pins and far too much hair gel. We were what used to be called “moshers” surrounded by what used to be called “townies”.

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One person who I did not forget, I did lose touch with. We drifted apart. I faded from his life and he from mine.

We were your stereotypical early noughties bored suburban kids. A little jaded and cynical. Kids with no interest in the monotony, petty social order and pointless rules of high school.

“One person who I did not forget, I did lose touch with. We drifted apart. I faded from his life and he from mine.We were your stereotypical early noughties bored suburban kids. A little jaded and cynical. Kids with no interest in the monotony, petty social order and pointless rules of high school.”

We had many of the formative teenage experiences together. Discovering lots of music. Going to the dive cafe in town, the place where the moshers would hang around. Witnessing fights and narrowly avoiding getting our heads kicked in. Bottles of vodka or cans of beer in the park. Having parties or walking miles to find someone else’s party. Our first encounters with girls. Wandering suburbia, talking and laughing with our friends.

He would eat his dog’s biscuits and dare me to do the same. I think I tried one once. He had a guitar that he could barely play. I still laugh now thinking of him going round his house with a small amp clipped to the strap, blasting out nonsense.

Once his parents took us to a classic British holiday park, complete with crumbling cabins, rigged games and dodgy rides. Within a few hours we had found the local weed dealer, who was slightly older, a Slipknot fan like us. We sat in this person’s car, clouds of smoke around us.

One day my friend decided we should start going to the pub. We became regulars at a few places around town that would have us. I doubt you could do that now

“Years later, we would pass each other from time to time. And we never said anything. It’s hard to say why, maybe we both felt it wasn’t necessary. We’d had our time. After 15 years it’s easier to say nothing than something.”

Once we left school, our lives went different ways. You know how it is. He went to work. I went to college and then away to university. The only time he came to visit me, he seemed a bit reserved. I think that was the last time I spoke to him. I got married and moved abroad for a while. Slowly we stopped sending messages, until we didn’t know each other any more.

Years later I moved back to town. We would pass each other from time to time. And we never said anything. It’s hard to say why, maybe we both felt it wasn’t necessary. We’d had our time. Maybe we both thought the other wouldn’t be interested. Maybe it was just the path of least resistance. After 15 years it’s easier to say nothing than something.

Earlier this year, I got the news that he had died.

Now I can only say I miss him and I miss those times we had together. I also missed out on the person he became. Which was, by all accounts, a decent man. Not perfect, not grand, but just that, a good man.

Despite it all, I don’t think I actually regret losing touch, and drifting apart. So, although I do think about what we were and what we might have been, life happens. We move on.

Somewhere in that vague place where you put things you’d quite like to happen but can’t or won’t do anything about, somewhere in there, I thought maybe someday we might get together again and reminisce. Instead the reminiscing happened at his funeral.

It is a stark reminder that we don’t have forever to think about it. It’s such a cliche but if there are people in your life that you want to keep a relationship with, pick up the phone. Send the message. Write the email.

Maybe after reading this one or two of you might do this. But most won’t. Not because you don’t want to or because you don’t love them in some way. But because of the sheer inertia of life. Because you only get to keep the ones you really hold on to. The rest, no matter how deep the connection, will fade away.