Feelings of regret are also natural, especially since we tend to assume we’ll have more time, Jenkins explains, but it’s not healthy to ruminate on plans we didn’t make or things we didn’t say. While there’s no timetable for grief, a useful technique can be to spend 30 minutes thinking about the past followed by an hour of doing something in the present, Jenkins adds.

On the way to the funeral, I send texts to my closest friends reminding them I love them. At the church, I slip into a pew at the back, feeling slightly fraudulent, because did I even know Liz any more? Then the eulogy references her childhood crush on Eric Cantona and for a moment my presence feels valid because I am one of only a few people there that could possibly remember this detail.

Unsure whether he’d recognise me, I decided not to approach Liz’s dad afterwards and instead write him a letter about the impact she had on my life. When his quick reply comes with its descriptions of our mischief and magic, I realise not all the shared memories have been lost.

Not only that, points out Jenkins, I’ve carried Liz throughout my life without even realising, both by marking every year we got older and by ranking loyalty above all else in my friendships, most of which are decades old.

“You and Liz learned how to be friends, you learned your rules of friendship together. All the friends you’ve made since then, you’ve found your way together [because] of her – she’s part of your life story.”

I expect I’ll feel sad when it comes but I’ll continue to mark Liz’s birthday. Instead of sending a message, perhaps I’ll make her famous Mars Bar Rice Krispie cakes, or re-read the letters we wrote 27 years ago, or raise a toast. Why break the habit of a lifetime? Love you LG.

Images: Getty

“Losing my childhood best friend taught me that grief comes in many complicated shades”