A week ago I was woken up by a phonecall from the now-separated wife of my best friend, telling me that he had been found dead from an overdose. It was a phonecall I’d been waiting on for years now, because since separating he’d become increasingly despondent despite the raft of medications, councellors and family/friends that kept him afloat. Yesterday I went to his funeral in Whittlesea and on request from his family, made a church reading from the Book of Lamentations, and helped carry his coffin from the church to his gravesite. One of my greatest fears is being asked to give a eulogy because I doubt I could do it justice and I fear becoming a bit of a mess in front of a whole lot of people I know. His sisters and his mother did this and it was a very tearful experience for all, particularly when she read a letter he had written to her on Mothers Day only 3 weeks ago. I felt a lot better after crying. 
One of the more difficult things for me when reflecting about his death was that he was a flawed individual who sometimes made life very difficult for those close to him, which more casual aquaintances were unaware of. So in particular in recent years, people may think I sometimes judged him more harshly than he deserved or they expected. One of the nicest things about the funeral was I was reminded again of all the lovely things about Nick’s personality that had made us inseperable from 1984 to 1990 in particular. He was a very gentle person who never had a bad thing to say about anyone, and always gave the benefit of the doubt. He loved the Hawthorn Football Club and was a staunch Labor party supporter. He smoked the strongest cigarettes you can buy, and liked his music hard Led Zepplin/Metallica style. He was a great drinking buddy, road trip companion and a wonderful father to his 13 year old daughter. I knew him since he was 8, and he died at 40. As his mother said, finally he’s found the peace that has always eluded him.