Losing a friend you thought you’d have forever is part of growing up. It hurts because it mattered.

Friendships end without anybody doing anything wrong, which is somehow harder than a fallout. There is no villain, no moment, just a slow drifting that leaves you with the knowledge that forever was not a promise anybody could make. It hurts in proportion to how much it meant, and that is the only comfort in it, though it is a real one.

You are allowed to grieve someone who is still alive and still fine. Say it to somebody rather than carrying it as something too small to mention. Keep the good years as good years without needing the ending to make sense.