Angel who could be a beast

Sometimes I wonder about the friends I’ve yet to meet. I imagine them turning up on airplanes, in classes, through Twitter, or in the park walking dogs, because all of these things have happened before.

Then, sometimes, I remember those friends now gone from my life, whether by accident or design, and without fail, I hope if I bumped into them in a bar we’d have a drink and a laugh, and feel that old warmth again, even just for a while.

But this week, I remembered a particular friend, because now that’s not going to happen.

We met through work. He was a big-hearted, dynamic, maddening chap, who made me happy and made me gnash my teeth, who challenged me to be the best I could be, and infuriated me by being the worst he could be.

When I think about him, there’s always a memory that makes me giggle, and there’s always another story to tell.

Most recently, I recalled the time he came to our movie-themed Christmas party as Superman, aka Christopher Reeves, albeit – crucially, appallingly – after the accident, in a wheelchair and wearing a polar neck.

We all cheered spontaneously, for only he would be that audacious.

But the catering staff weren’t to know the truth, so they made a space at a table for his wheelchair, and fussed, and brought him food from the buffet. He was so mortified that he stayed in that chair, even taking it for a spin on the dance floor with the prettiest sales rep riding on his lap.

Sometimes, it seems you’ll always be laughing together. Yet in time, we fell out of touch.

Yes, I knew the pub he went to, I could have popped in for that accidental pint. But eventually, it felt like too many bridges crossed and I didn’t know the way back, and I couldn’t predict my welcome, anyhow. He was an angel, but he could be a beast.

Everyone who ever met him has a story. Last week, the obituaries called him legendary …

And, damp-eyed, I scratched him off the list of “friends past” and added him to the growing numbers of “friends lost”.

Sometimes I think about the friends I’ve yet to meet, but I wonder about those I may yet lose, and those missing that I should look up and have that affectionate drink with, before it is too late.