Whenever I close my eyes, the same image remains; it refuses to change. I'm standing before a crowd of familiar faces. An unsettling chill silences the room. I force myself to look in your direction.

Your laughing eyes take me back to our childhood. We were fearless then. Remember how we climbed rusty pipes to escape onto the roof? We lay on the warm slates for hours. Our conversations were as serious as the peanut butter sandwiches that stuck to our palates. We were inseparable. Nigger balls blackened our tongues like the summer tar blackened our soles.

Our bullet-proof youth dissolved as quickly as rice paper on our tongues. The intimate memories we shared soon became separated by relationships, fleeting friendships and busy schedules. You were the crazy one. The misfit. You lived life according to your own rules. Who else gets expelled twice and charms his way back into the principal's office for another chance?

I look down at my hands and they're shaking. I wish this piece of paper was a racquet and we were outside pretending to be Becker and Seles. I look around distracted by the eerie silence and burning stares. I can't speak. Deathly afraid to puncture the stillness with my tears but your gaze captures me, so I step forward. There is a salty taste of blood in my mouth; I soon realize that I've bitten through my lip. This subtle numbness scares me; it reaffirms that this is not a cruel illusion.

Another fond memory grips me away from colourless stares. It's Good Friday and instead of preparing for mass, we are queuing at international departures. You're standing amid the crowd in your I only do blondes t-shirt, your cheeky confidence always amused me. You swung me around, as you always do when we whisper goodbye, but that day you held me tightly; so tight that your scent lingered when I boarded the plane.

Dubai was often filled with lonely moments but I've never felt more isolated when I heard of your accident. I felt unbelievably helpless. My words sounded like an empty echo when we spoke on the phone. That night, I made a special wish for you but unbeknown to me that falling star would cut my heart to pieces.

I remember running towards mom when I arrived home; I was thrilled to be back. My smile slipped off my face when I recognised the stillness in her eyes. She held me tight and sobbed, 'Nick is dead'. These abrupt words are burned forever in my memory. There's no thread of reason to string together this mass of boundless agony. How could you be dead, when we spoke days before? If I knew that was going to be our last conversation, I never would've hung up'¦

Bile rises up my throat at the thought of you fighting for breath, while I roamed crowded shops, passing time before my return flight. At 2:30am you closed your eyes and let the darkness come, while I boarded the plane with your black t-shirt. How ironic that I chose black during your final moments? Your t-shirt still lies untouched at the bottom of my suitcase. I do not wish to give it to anyone else; it was meant only for you.

My voice promptly joins my shaky hands as I stand before our family and your friends. Everybody seems far away but you're the one who's gone.

Whenever I close my eyes, I see your coffin before me. This image remains the same. It refuses to change.

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