My friend Claire Miller

Earlier this year I started a blog but it never really went anywhere. However, seeing a post on my friend's blog about someone she'd lost reminded me of something meaningful I'd written about a friend I lost this year. So I thought I'd transfer it over here. Because I thought about my friend Claire Miller this weekend. Like I do most days. And this is the time of year when I think of her the most - because I have fond memories of us drunkenly singing "Fairytale of New York" in the pub and on the way home and whenever I hear it this Christmas, it'll be Claire I'm thinking of as I'm singing along..

Went to the funeral of an old friend last week. It really hit me hard, although I hadn't seen her for years. I felt guilty for it hitting me so hard in many ways because how dare I grieve when her family and close friends were so much more devastated by her loss. Still. She was with me through my formative years. When I was 17. Drinking cider and black and then spending half of my evenings in the pub toilets reliving my drinks in the other direction. Claire was there beside me. Talking to me. That's a pretty dedicated friend when you think about it. Yes ok she might have been well inebriated too, but she was right by my side, come hell (well, vomit) or high water.

It's weird that you take so many things for granted. When I heard that she had died, I really thought hard about the impact she had on my life, and in many ways it far outweighed anything subsequent friends had to offer. Without her, I'd never have discovered much of the musical taste I have to this day. Without her, I wouldn't have the mad memories of my teens in the pub with a crew of friends, laughing and being loud. She helped me become me. Fearless, she championed my sexuality and never let me make excuses for it or anyone else criticise it. It's crazy the things we let pass us by.

At the funeral we laughed out loud at our memories of Claire. We laughed together. For her, for Claire. For all that she was then and had been until she was tragically taken at the age of 32.

I feel terrible that I never got in touch with her for years, but it's easy to let life pass you by, to plough your own furrow and not dwell on the past. One thing it's made me realise is that life's so short, so precious, we should treasure it and embrace it. I've also learned that the people that make the biggest impact aren't always the ones you notice straight away.

But they're definitely the ones you miss the most.

Claire Miller 1972-2005. There is a light that never goes out..