I met John in college nearly eleven years ago. We were both mature students: so awkward amongst all those seventeen year olds who hung around the campus, so out of place and a little lost. It was no surprise that we were sort of drawn to each other. Within a week we were hanging out between classes, exchanging ideas and chatting and laughing at our misfortunes in the classroom, trying to cope with assignments, exams and giving out about lecturers. Life in college was good because he was there. We were inseparable in college and once we finished, we remained friends ever since.
John was the first Irish friend I made, he was my friend, not acquired from in laws, other half, or a friend of a family friend... he was my friend. When you live abroad, good friends become family. They're there for you when you need them, they make you laugh, they support you, they listen to you, they give out if you are acting up and hold you when you want to cry. He was a very good friend. Married to lovely Trish and ten years my senior, he became part of my family, a big brother who was always willing to listen and help. We would meet regularly and spent countless evenings chatting and drawing up mad business plans together. Our other halves would just roll their eyes every time a new idea would come up. He never got my name right, always called me 'Lila', although my name is Lilia. I never really cared, 'lila' (which means violet in Spanish) was ok with me.
We were comfortable in each other's company and our friendship was not demanding in any shape or form, it was organic, ever flowing and beautiful. He was a generous friend with his time, thoughtful and engaging, always willing to listen; very private but willing to know everything about you. He was a good man to laugh with and a solid rock to hold on to when times were rough. He loved the sea and the outdoors and was always reading some madly difficult book. He had a sweet tooth, so I would always bake something when he was dropping to see us.
Last Wednesday John passed away suddenly. I hadn't seen him in two weeks and it haunts me that I did not have a chance to thank him for all the times he had been there for me and to tell him how much I loved him and how much his friendship meant to me. I thought he was going to be there forever. His loss is nearly unbearable and the sadness that his passing left behind is testament to his generous and loving nature. I will miss my friend deeply, my prayers are for his beautiful wife, his brothers and sisters, his countless nieces and nephews and his many friends who all loved him dearly. His memory will always be with us. May he rest in peace...
No recipe this time, no food tastes right, only a song to share that will always remind me of him.
A February Song in March...
