Missing

|_1z D@p1y|\|, I miss you. I'm writing about you here because I don't know what else to do. Not knowing is the worst feeling. I can't imagine how Rob, how your sister, how your family must be feeling.

I just feel a sick hollow thud inside me every time I read your name in the paper, every time someone mentions you on the internet board we met through. In the pub last night, we were discussing a conversation I'd once had... and suddenly I remembered it had taken place in your kitchen and conversation just... stopped. I mentioned the new Ravonettes single, and how I played it the last time I DJ'ed, and then started crying because I remembered it was you that requested it.

I am forcing myself to talk about you in the present tense, even though we all fear the worst.

When I had a cancer scare last year, the day before my biopsy, you took me out to dinner, and you gave me a can of "Longevity" brand condensed milk. This is stupid, but I've kept it ever since - I got it out again on Thursday night, just to stare at it, hold it, and think of your kindness. You made me the most amazing cake for my birthday. You always twist my arm to get another pint, or another bottle of Blossom Hill down the pub, even when I'm too broke to reciprocate. You're always up for our urban rambles, even when we walk too fast for you.

Not knowing is the worst part, suspended between hope and grief, not knowing what to think, how to feel, utterly powerless. I am thinking of you. It's all I can do.