I feel so old, so terribly old, like my soul has been alive for thousands of years and cannot bear it any more. 

Old friend, please don't die. The world needs people like you. The world needs you. I need you, which is an extremely selfish thing to say. But it is true. How much loss must one bear, can one bear? Is this, too, a lesson that must be learned? Is this why you were teaching me about coping with grief? 

You were there when I was at my lowest. You celebrated my achievements with me, even when I forgot to celebrate them myself and only looked on them with relief. What will I do when you are gone?