Remembering Amran Ayden

My best friend died exactly one year ago today.

I really don't know which is harder to deal with: the fact that he left us so suddenly or that it has been one year already. Some of us have lost fathers, mothers and friends and we all know this familiar feeling. Speaking from my heart, Amran's departure cannot be more sobering. You cannot imagine how dependent we all can be, on the simple things: a smile to say that everything is okay, a laugh to remind each other of carefree childhood, or tears from how one heart is listening to the other... until of course, when it's taken away.

One year.

Have we lost twelve months already? Only if we believe that the last twelve months have been spent not making somebody else's life special, not smiling or crying or just being around to loved ones who need us. Losing time is losing touch. There. Simple enough? And losing time is losing the opportunity to love and to be there for our mothers, our fathers, our children, our friends. It's one short life and they're really not asking for that much.

I know for me Amran is smiling down at each and everyone of us from that not too distant star. I know because when I walk alone along a quiet evening lane I look up, I see that little star twinkle. I know because I sometimes hear him say it's okay when I feel like falling apart. I know because this time even when I am by myself, I don't really feel alone.

So with the voices and prayers of all of us who love you still, Amran-Ayden my dearest friend, whose songs we still listen to with that warm proud feeling in our hearts, let us say: Thank you for your music Amran. Thank you for loving us all to the very last breath. We love you. We miss you.