A friend died too young. Snuffed out in his prime. I still can’t believe I won’t see him again. So of course, now he is everywhere.

If you knew him, you’ve likely seen him, too.

His familiar silhouette in the stranger who drives by. The back of his head in front of you in line. His long fingers picking apples from the bin at the grocery store. There he is again in the school parking lot, this time in the gait of a man you’ve never seen before.

I watched gait man again today. He was waiting for his kids after school. His face showed that he was lost in thought. It’s fascinating to watch an unguarded face.

He turned and noticed me gawking at him.

Guarded face back on. Awkward smile of stranger. Eek. Reel it in.

I spotted my friend’s teenage sons walk by. Not the actual boys but a warped version. For a split second it was them, then a blink and they were a muddle mix of features, planting familiar faces on unfamiliar people. My eyes playing their tricks again.

You wonder how long you will see him everywhere.

Before he becomes someone you just see in your mind’s eye instead of with your actual eyes.

Then you realize it is nice to see him everywhere, even if it does take your breath away and make you sad again.

The funeral was like a Facebook funhouse.

A distorted reflection of all these people I knew once, years ago, and had light contact with through Facebook.

Here they were in front of me in all their dimensions. A sensory overload of whiskers and wrinkles, familiar voices of the teenagers I once knew speaking to me with their adult faces. When did everyone suddenly grow into adults? Weird.

That’s the funny thing about funerals.

They are a reunion where you wish you were at your best but instead you are at your most vulnerable. A coming together of those who have drifted apart. A comforting hand on the arm that can only come from someone who knew you 30 years ago. Who else can compete with that? That’s pure magic.

When I lived overseas, I got a get-out-of-funerals-free card.

It was golden ticket out of awkwardness and the risk of public emoting. But after this recent funeral, surrounded by so many people from my high school cafeteria, it was nice to see people who stayed and supported each other along the way.

And they were happy to support me as I snuck into the crowd, out from the fray.

Feeling a little like I hadn’t earned their love because I had disappeared for so long. My friend Annie hugged me and I told her she was always great at hugs.

“Yes! I am!” she replied.

A beautiful awareness of her superpower.

And all that time gone by? Length of time is an illusion. A measuring stick made of Silly Putty. Time flips and flaps and folds and unfolds. It’s impossible to measure.

All of us are really just kids walking each other home.

Janice

PS A gentle reminder about the 25% off Black Friday sale on letter subscriptions at my shop. Obligatory reminder over. I’ll now be crawling into bed to hide.