There’s that thing how you can meet an old friend after years and years and it’s like no time has ever passed. Then there’s the other thing, when you don’t meet them again and then they have passed away, and the grief is as strong as if no time were between you.

I had a close friend for a little while, and we used to talk and talk. I think I loved her in my teenage way, the kind that puts down roots that never die, although they are so thin and spindly you don’t know they are there until you go and look for them.

I remember her with a boyfriend, and her not being happy with her boyfriend, and trying to make it right. I’m sure I made it worse. But they didn’t last. I always considered her like young royalty in the sense that she walked through life like she knew what she was doing and where she was going. And that she wouldn’t cast her eyes in my direction even if she was happy to share confidences over the phone.

After University, and 21st birthday parties, we all went our different directions and the distractions of new friends pushed out the loyalties of old ones. I imagine she was working hard, going out for nice dinners, I don’t know what – sparing as little thought for me as I for her. Years turned into decades, careers, adventures, middle age. And then, quite suddenly, shockingly, she was gone.

I realised that she was one of the stones of my foundation, propping up everything that has come since, and long taken for granted. The what ifs don’t even make sense as it has been so long. I always knew you and you always knew me. And without you in this world, it makes that one little bit less sense.