For William

This week I’m taking you back to Georgia — to a wild night that ended at 6am, a parking lot where I drove at 5 miles an hour, and the friend I lost this week.

✦ LIFE — A gentle soul

My friend William passed away this week.

When I heard, I went completely still. The kind of still where your brain simply refuses to process what your ears just delivered. And then, hours later, it hit — and I cried for a long time. I searched through every photo I could find of us. I called friends. I just needed to say his name out loud to people who knew him, to share the memories before they felt too far away.

Somewhere in the back of my head, I am still waiting for a text from him. An update about his kids, his work, something funny he saw. That is how it goes with the people who were just always there. You do not expect them to stop being there.

I had just moved to Georgia for work. William had moved there a little before me. We ended up at the same Airbnb, where we met our host — my now best friend Lisete, who had already made Georgia her home. The three of us fell into each other’s company easily, the way you do when you are new somewhere and someone makes you feel less new.

Our first crazy shenanigan that sparked the seed of a friendship — William and I went to Wild Wings Café, a game on the screen, beers on the table, strangers to talk to. We met some people. Then more people at the next place. Then somehow, at 2am, we were at the house of people we had known for three hours. The designated sober driver got lost on the way home because we all were talking about aerospace engineering. We finally walked through our front door at 6am, exhausted. We laughed about that night every single time we saw each other after. I would give anything to get lost with him talking about engineering one more time.

He bought a house soon after and moved on with his life and I got busy with work, as people do. But we stayed close. We would meet up and unload on each other the way only certain friendships allow — dating disasters, his love story, stories about his kids, my work drama, all of it. When his children came to town, I would come over. We would play board games, eat pizza, play hide and seek, and I would forget completely that I was an adult. It became a ritual I looked forward to every holiday.

One of the most precious things he ever gave me was teaching me how to drive. I was 26 and had never needed a license — I had always lived in cities. William took me out for four days in a row, no hesitation, just because I needed it. He went with me to get my permit. He helped me find the car I still drive today and walked me through every step of buying it.

I have not been able to sit in that car since I heard the news. Because the moment I do, I know exactly what I will think about — him gripping the handle above the window with white knuckles the day I drifted into the left lane without seeing the car beside me. Him laughing at me for going 5 miles an hour on day one like I was transporting fine china. We argued every time about whether he was a great teacher or I was simply an exceptional student. We always landed on: he was very proud of me. He used to joke that I was his practice run before his own kids were old enough to learn — and he looked forward to that day with such quiet confidence.

He would light up talking about his military deployments. Italy was his favorite. He loved moscato. He married his love. He raised his children with such warmth. Even after going through harsh times in his life, he stayed a gentle soul — to everyone, always.

He was the kind of person the world needed more of. He showed me what it felt like to have a friendship with no fear in it — where you could say the real thing and be met with warmth instead of judgment. That changed me. I carry that.

I am grieving him deeply. And I am so grateful I got to know him.

✦ GROWTH — The friendships that don’t need tending

There is a kind of friendship that does not need constant upkeep to survive. No weekly check-ins, no guilt about the gap since you last spoke. You pick up exactly where you left off, and the warmth is right there, unchanged.

I think these friendships are rare because they are not built on proximity or habit. They are built on something deeper — honesty, safety, the willingness to actually show up as yourself. When the foundation is that solid, time and distance cannot erode it.

We live in a world that quietly tells us that a good friendship requires constant maintenance. That if you go too long without talking, you are losing something. But I do not think that is true. It is not the frequency of time spent but the quality of it — and more than that, the quality of what you bring to it.

William taught me that. Some people do not need to be in your everyday life to be one of the most important people in your life.

✦ ACTION — Pour one out

Pour yourself a glass of something you love — moscato, if you have it. And raise it to a friend. Text them, call them, show up at their door. Tell them you were thinking of them. Do not wait for a reason.

Hit comment and tell me about a friendship in your life that has that kind of quiet permanence. I would love to hear about them.