I know I haven't updated in almost a month. For most of March, I just couldn't think of anything interesting to say (not that that's ever stopped me), and this past week has been of particular difficulty. It's been very hard to talk to anyone or make myself do anything.

On Monday, March 30th, I, along with all of my coworkers (some friends, some strangers) was informed that my dear friend and colleague had passed away. Out of respect to him, who was always a very private man, I don't wish to say too much about his role in relation to mine at work, but suffice to say we worked together every day since I began working there. I feel uncomfortable disclosing his cause of death, but yet I feel I must, for I'm simply not up for telling everyone separately now, and it is an important factor. He took his own life.

He was a big reason why I enjoy my work. Every day between ten and eleven (depending how busy it was), we'd make earl grey tea together. He did a perfect Ali G impression that made me laugh every time. There are never enough pens where we work, and they always go missing, so we'd routinely re-enact the "My Pen!" sketch from Kids in the Hall. He was a deeply spiritual and religious man, and right before he stopped coming to work, he lent me a fantastic book, which I wrote about here (the one about Islam and the West). He always wore birkenstocks, and up until the end of this week, they were still there in my workspace, tucked under a table. I kept staring at them and thinking "dead man's shoes", a phrase the origins of which I can't recall. It made me feel guilty. He is not a dead man, but my friend.

One time we discussed the band Einstuerzende Neubauten, him mentioning he had seen them in concert. After this friday, I had one of their songs stuck in my head and thought of how much it described this friend. Particularly, the line "it's in the open, but it doesn't get stolen". In a way, we all recognized how beautiful and amazing he was, but at the same time we never really got it. He was underappreciated. I never asked him if anything was wrong, because it never seemed like anything was.

My dear friend, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't ask. I'm sorry I didn't tell you everyday how helpful you were to me, sorry that I didn't thank you for your patience and hard work. I miss you so much. We all do. I hope you found what you were looking for.