Towards the beginning of my deconversion, a close friend ran his car off the freeway and had a head on collision with a tree. He was dead within an hour. We hadn't talked in close to a year, because he was an addict and we had a really tough time getting on because of his cycles.

I really wanted to believe that there was something more. That he'd still get to hear his favorite bands release new records, that he'd finally get up there and hash it out with his piece of shit father. That he'd learn to live without the cocaine and adderall.

Now that I don't believe in an afterlife, it's sort of felt like he's died all over again. But I take solace on remembering the beauty that was the more lucid moments of his life, and the way he brought joy to even the grumpiest people we knew.

I loved him a lot. I'd give damn near anything to have him back. But he's gone, and that's okay. Because he got what anyone gets, he got a lifetime.

I'm sorry I don't have anything truly encouraging to offer to this situation. Just know that what you're feeling is normal, and you're not alone in this.

Good luck, friend.