I went to a meeting this morning at which the main speaker was Jack’s roommate. Usually I can see him without getting emotional, but not this time. When it was my turn to share I nearly broke down. I found it a bit embarrassing, after all this time.
But after the meeting, my friend Roger said to me, “Jack was lucky that you loved him so much that you still get choked up thinking about him being gone.”
It was a good thing to hear, since a lot of times I think that I didn’t love him enough. I just hope he knew how I felt when he died, though I suppose what really matters is that I knew, that I know, and that I still remember.