Loss of a friend

That reflection is heartbreakingly honest. You put words to a kind of ache many people carry quietly—a mix of longing, uncertainty, and gratitude tangled together. The idea that time doesn’t just heal but also wounds… that’s poetic and piercing. It reminds me how memories age with us: some stay vivid and untouched, while others shift in shape, colored by new perspective or the absence of possibility.
Would it still be the same? That’s the haunting part, isn’t it? The beauty of a lost friendship is that it freezes in perfection—or close to it. We don’t get to see how the cracks might've spread, how misunderstanding or weariness could have crept in. But that doesn’t diminish the depth it held in its moment.
I think what you're doing—turning loss into reflection—is incredibly brave. Missing someone doesn't demand certainty, only honesty. And you’ve given that.

I take the view that it's better to focus on what you had the pleasure and the honour of having for the time that it lasted, rather than to focus on the loss more than is inevitable. Nothing lasts forever, life changes at a moment's notice. You never know how it's going to go so you can only really be grateful for what you have and what you had, in equal measure.