Memories of friends lost

This has been a sad week. As one gets older the reality of our mortality begins to hit home.
I am not an obituary watcher, like some of my older friends but when friends you have known for years suddenly pass away it does have an impact.
This last week saw the passing of two friends of many years. Even though we were not in close contact anymore, they were never the less part of my history. They were larger than life characters, men who would always draw attention. They had presence. Lawrence was a man with loads of charisma, a man of many parts, a conjuror, stage hypnotist, special effects producer and much more besides. Even though in recent times we were separated by distance, South Africa is a large country, we would meet up occasionally and it would be like no time has passed.

Barry was also a special person, quick tempered, generous, an old resident of our town. He knew all the town history and was a fixture on the local stage. Just a few weeks ago I had a chat with our local museum curator, we made plans to interview him so that the local knowledge could be recorded somewhere. Now that source has gone. I am going to miss visiting his workshop. He was always so hospitable, quick with a joke, an altogether great character. He worked until the last. When the cancer was discovered it was only a matter of a few weeks until the end.
What have I learned? We are mortal, our friends can be taken in an instant, enjoy every day to its fullest. Maybe there is someone you have meaning to call, now is the time to make the call.
I would like to dedicate this poem by Henry Scott Holland to their memory.

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.

All is well.