Excerpt:

The years went by, no one ever filling the yawning void left by Marie’s death. There was no soul-mate, no cushioned resting place for a tired spirit. Occasionally, someone mused that I must miss her very much. One thoughtless person, upon hearing me say I’d lost my best friend, decreed that I should just find myself a new one. Like best friends grow on trees.

            Best friends, I once wrote about Marie, can’t be made. They can only be found ... discovered when one soul reaches out to another. Best friends never cry or laugh alone. Best friends can’t be critical, only helpful and supportive. Best friends never say “I told you so.” Best friends keep their promises.

Best friends never die.