Chris

I couldn't say that Chris was ever a good friend of mine, because I never really got to know him on any kind of deep level. Yet I'd be loathe to describe him as merely an acquaintance.

When I moved back to Andover after my world had seemingly come crashing down around me, I found myself working shifts in a local factory producing exhaust clamps.And that is where I first chatted to Chris. I sat myself in the corner of the canteen during my lunch breaks,with a face like thunder as I continued to dwell on my melancholy thoughts about how unfair life wa and how it was out of my control.

Chris made the effort to come across from the established group of regular workers to chat. He didn't ask me what my problems were, or why I looked down. Instead, we struck up a conversation regarding rock music, and proceeded to while away the break chatting about our favourite Foo Fighters tracks.

I never told him this but that slice of normality was more helpful to me at that particular moment than any of my other friends had been able to provide to me up until that point.

Today I regret not having the courage to make that thought known to him.

When I finished my time at the factory, Chris and I would always talk when I saw him at our local pub. He knew my brother as well and we always had an entertaining time catching up and talking about music as much as possible over the ear splitting volume of the pub sound system. The last time I saw him was the night before he left for his big travelling adventure. We briefly chatted about which destinations his world tour would take in and I remember how elated he was at the prospect of what he was about to embark on, in the way you can only look when you are grabbing hold of your dreams and ambitions tightly with both hands.

I got a text message from my brother yesterday telling me the news that Chris had died.

It goes without saying that Chris will be missed by many people. His close friends will no doubt have many other more appropriate and more entertaining stories to tell by way of a lasting tribute. I don't want to come across as one of those who pretend to know someone well after they have died.

But, like I said, Chris was more help than he'll ever know to me at a tough time in my life. And I never thanked him for it.

So I hope this guilt will remind me to say the important words of love and encouragement that need to be spoken, out loud and right now. I wouldn't want to lose any of the other people who have influenced my life without letting them know how much I have valued their contribution to making me who I am.

Chris, thanks for personally bringing me normality in a storm, and for being a constant entertainer to the rest of those who encountered you.