I LOST one of my closest friends, suddenly last week. He went out for a run and didn't make it back to his front door.

And in the moment of that terrible phone call, coronavirus meant nothing. The rolling news faded into the background, my own world shattered.

Because life continues, even in lockdown. The things that take our loved ones don't pause during a global pandemic, like cancer or in my friend's case a massive heart attack. More shocking because Eddie Docherty was as fit as a butcher's dog and looked at least 10 years younger than his 57. We used to joke there was a Dorian Gray hanging in his loft.

Bereavement in social isolation means you grieve apart from the friends and relatives who would provide comfort and distraction. Memories shared and consolidated over a glass of wine. The feelings of unease and uncertainty many of us are experiencing right now are magnified.

Eddie was passionate about socialism, independence and Celtic. Glam rock and Katie Puckrick, washed down with a large glasses of Shiraz wine.

The Herald:

Mischievous and gentle we met at the East Kilbride News, my first job as a reporter and his last, before he moved to media relations for the NHS, an institution he was proud to represent.

I'll miss our walks and weekend coffee and cake, boozy tapas lunches and shared love of Led Zep.

My world seems like it’s lost a bit of its colour now but I hope in time, all the memories of the brilliant fun we had will lift my heavy heart.

The Herald:

Friendships can be undervalued in society but these are the people who help us weather heartbreaks and family bereavements, a constant through the highs and lows of life.

While it's lonely grieving in lockdown, in other ways the time away from a busy office and the public sphere gives you the space to reconcile yourself with your loss, privately.

It’s some comfort to know I was probably the last person he texted before that evening run, last Tuesday night. I can only hope it was quick, that the lights went out fast.

There will only be 10 people at Eddie's funeral next week.

But like many others who are grieving due to Covid-19 or otherwise, there will be the biggest of gatherings to celebrate his life when the pub restrictions are lifted.

I'm only gutted that when they are, the person I’d most like to share a pint with won’t be sitting at my table.

I read that when grieving for someone it’s helpful to consider what their life has taught you, so I’ll try to worry less and take more risks, spend more time with the people who lift my spirits and relish every single good moment.

Catch you later, Ed.