So the other week I turned 50. You were a few months older than me but always the photos of you, taken by you, people thought were of me. We were a meeting of minds, my mother said before she met you. And you did take photos of me, that time many years ago when we ran through the hallways of the old convent. And the nights we sat and laughed over red wine and pasta you made. Our time in Sydney, drunk at lunch on cheap sangria, riding the carousel at Luna Park. Walking through Waverley cemetery, the one by the sea you always wanted to visit. The trip to the kangaroos, and standing by the sea. I remember the last time I saw you, I won’t share that. You started to fade after that trip. Like it was a goodbye, you came and went. The sporadic emails then the silence. From me the mad searching and checking with friends. Then you came back, and we chatted more like it was all ok. I got busy, you had high hopes, and they were dashed....and then you were gone. A kind soul messaged me. Have you heard about Lauren? I know the answer from the question asked. I was shocked, but not surprised. I always miss you, and will always love you.
