50 Word Non-Fiction: Friendship – Batch 10

Every week, we publish the latest 50 Word Non-Fiction stories of Friendship. Read this week's pieces below!

Please note: these pieces contain descriptions of loss some readers may find upsetting.

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My son died. He took his life. Jan and I sat overlooking the sea. We sometimes talked; drank tea; sometimes ate chocolate. Kathy brought casseroles and knew I needed to be alone. Dave organised the wake, knowing exactly what was right. Others hugged me, silently. My beautiful boy is remembered.

You stood alone at the corner, watching us move in. "Does a wee lassie live here?" Your first words to my dad . I took your hand and off we went. A friendship spanning 50 years. Your eulogy was the most difficult piece I've written, my very missed, lifelong friend.

I once had a conversation with an accountant, who never stopped smiling at me.

‘You are wondering why I have this red mark on my forehead?’

‘Yes.’

One of the baby’s toys has a sucker on the end. I stuck it on my napper and said: ‘I am a Dalek.’

1980’s Dundee. Paul. Wit, raconteur, DJ, cartoonist and fellow student. Sharp as a tack, clever, good looking, girls loved him. What’s not to envy? Was fae Edinburgh, ken? Got me into AC\DC, Eagles, Supertramp. We eventually lost touch. Hope you’re doing well mate. Wish we’d had mobiles and Facebook then!

I rang her number.

She answered.

Quiet tears flowed.

'Hello. Is that you, Anna?'

Silence.

It’s ok. No need to speak. I’m here.

More silence, except a wee intake of breath.

For a long time.

Then the quiet tears shed slowly down my cheeks.

'... I’ve got you,' she said.

Being great friends since meeting at college 42 years ago, Rona and I meet up every couple of months for lunch, facials (nicknaming ourselves “The Facialistas”!) and a good chinwag. We think we’re looking not too bad for 60 – proof positive that great friendships (and regular facials) keep you younger!

From the corner of the street you watched me 'flit' nearby. "Does a wee lassie live here?" The first words you spoke. I took your hand and off we went. A friendship spanning 50 years. Your eulogy was the most difficult piece I've written. I miss you my friend.