On my wet, windy walk to work this morn­ing, a bro­ken umbrel­la flapped on the side­walk like a dying bird.

Lamb says some­where that if, of three friends (A, B, and C), A should die, then B los­es not only A but “A’s part in C,” while C los­es not only A but “A’s part in B.” In each of my friends there is some­thing that only some oth­er friend can ful­ly bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activ­i­ty; I want oth­er lights than my own to show all his facets. Now that Charles is dead, I shall nev­er again see Ronald’s reac­tion to a specif­i­cal­ly Car­o­line joke. Far from hav­ing more of Ronald, hav­ing him “to myself” now that Charles is away, I have less of Ronald. Hence true Friend­ship is the least jeal­ous of loves.

- C.S. Lewis The Four Loves