more, but less

A close friend of mine has seen more rough times and draining circumstances than ten people should ever experience in their lifetime...they are currently dealing with yet another dying friend, sitting with them, getting hit with that reality check yet again. As we were sending messages back and forth, I found myself typing out the bit below. I'm posting it here so I can have it for later...it is the closest I've gotten yet to fitting words to some of the stuff rattling around in my head.

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I'm not afraid of death, and I really don't even worry about dying myself. It's the void, that hole shaped like the person you lose, that is hardest for me....the thousand and one times that you think "I totally need to tell them about this", only to have the reality hit you again. It hits a little less hard over time, but never completely goes away...and I sometimes feel like a bit of flimsy, delicate lace, riddled with holes that used to be filled with the people who were a fundamental part of what makes me "me". I'm still me, but a little less so for having lost them.