I had a friend called Gareth. We met in 1996 and we worked together. We became friends and used to go on nights out. Then, we went on holidays and in 2001 & 2002 we went and worked abroad for the summer. We were very close until our place of work closed in 2004. Our friendship was quite rocky at this time as I think we'd been in each other's pockets for too long.

The next time I saw him was in December 2006 when he was in the next ward to me in hospital. He passed me in the corridor and I went in to see him. We made our peace and both decided we'd been stupid to lose touch with each other. We had a laugh about old times and things we'd done together. When I left hospital, we hugged each other and said that we'd have to meet up. I never got that chance.

I got a phone call last Wednesday to say that Gareth had died on Monday 15th October. According to local newspaper reports, he was seen at 8.30am wandering around the street looking distressed. He was later seen leaning 'asleep' on some railings. Then he was seen looking distressed, crouching down in a phone box. One eyewitness said that he looked up at him and seemed quite distressed, but more tired and like he was going to sleep. Then, at 1pm the police arrived to discover he had died in the second phone box.

Because I'd not seen him for so long, it hasn't sunk in yet. In my mind, he's still out there as he always was. Even seeing his parents in pieces didn't make it real.

I'm feeling guilty because I knew a few years ago that he was a heavy drinker and could see he would get worse. I mentioned it to him, and I know an individual has to admit their problem to themselves, but I feel I could have done more. I also feel bad for not seeing him again and just putting off getting back in touch. If we hadn't lost touch, could I have done something to save him from this? I don't know.
I despise the people who saw him and watched him in distress for more than four hours, did absolutely nothing to help him and then had the audacity to give their names to the local paper with their eyewitness accounts. They needn't have got involved - just called the police. Even if it was his time to go, at least if someone had called for help then he could have passed away in a clean hospital bed with family members with him. As it was, he died alone.

When I sit and think about it all, I cry. I have been remembering old times, and looking at photos which is nice, but then the true horror of his death comes back to me. He was a massive part of my life at one time and I know it's only been a week, but I feel like I'm never going to get over it, although because we weren't close at the end, I feel I don't have the right to be grieving so much. I just hope he knew how much I cared.