I recently saw my oldest friend. We first met when he was a baby because we were neighbours back then.
Over the last 20 years, I haven't seen him a lot. Maybe 5 times. He lives only a few kilometers away from where I live but he had other priorites: he wanted to make money. So he worked a lot. And he bought a big house which he sold, making enough profit to buy a bigger house. And he bought a nice car. And he dated a beautiful blonde girl and had two beautiful daughters. And he traveled in luxurious places.
He never invited me at his place because I suppose that he didn't want to spend some money on a dinner.
Last weekend I saw him for the first time in 8 years. He looked good. But he told me that he just had a big cancer. He had a big surgery and a big chemotherapy treatment. The kind of treatment that could kill someone over 50 years old. Also, he was single.
Was it funny? Was it sad? Was it a tragedy? Was it a comedy? Even though he probably enjoyed life over the last 20 years, I thought about his search for continual profit. He let me down but I don't think that he let down his pleasure. But I know that he didn't have any real friend. Is it so important to have real friends? I don't know. But anyway, I wondered what was the use for money when you have metastasis? Get a comfortable death? His life represented the "ideal life" for many people. But it was artificial. Too clean and beautiful to be true. And now, the house of cards has fallen down.
I'm a bit shocked by the last lines. I shouldn't write that. But that's what I thought for the last 20 years. Whatever. Even if I wasn't probably very important for him over the last 20 years, I'll try to be more present for his last few years.
