I had a lot of friends growing up. They were very nice, very decent & thoughtful human beings - generally pregnant w/ chill-kindness, talents, & sweet dreams that made me admire & support them more. We're not talking about a bunch of junkies (though a few were). I could go on about epilepsy taking one, one dying during back surgery, another oded on anesthesia during knee surgery, one ejected out of our buddy's Corvette at 100miles/hour, one naively took aspirin while she had Chicken Pox, one hit by 15 yr old girl while walking his sis from her elementary school, a few killing themselves or "undetermined"; one being shot in his gorgeous face over a lame joke, another breaking up a minor fight to be shoved & knocked his head into a curb, etc.

I only know of 4 that are still alive. When my Dad would catch me sad & just on auto-pilot, my Mom would say "Garry, she just lost another friend. It was [fill in the blank]." And he would say "Good riddance", or "Yup! The world is better for it! Loser." Felt like I was always dying inside for their memory, & now I'm utterly alone.