Julia was a clone. I'm a clone, we're all clones. Every 7 - 10 years almost every cell in our body is replaced by an almost identical copy. For Julia, one of those cloned cells wasn't a branded copy, but a knockoff that killed her. Since we all auto-clone, how do we know who we are?

Julia recently found out she was 20% Viking and loved the idea. So, once the curtains close, I've arranged permission from the council to take her coffin to a local lake, set fire to it and launch it on the waters. It's what she would have wanted...

Who was Julia? I know someone she was. She was my closest friend. I first met her at university nearly 50 years ago, becoming friends as part of a group. I was a young man in a very bad psychological place with serious self-esteem issues. She was a beautiful, intelligent young woman, both scientist and artist. This truly Vitruvian being decided, completely voluntarily and without coercion, to be my friend. Miraculously, she saw something in me that I couldn't then see in myself.

Julia has been party to many of the peak moments in my life. Family holidays in France, lying on sunbeds at 1am watching for shooting stars and having cognac-soaked revelations. New Year over the Millennium with Graham, no power, chopping wood by hand, food in cans, but with wine from the gods. Stealing power from Graham's car for light and music, watching our 4 children surviving being creative with fireworks...

She has also been there for some of my worst moments too.  I was having a family crisis induced breakdown at the local crematorium, coming to just long enough to call her. Julia left work and arrived to find a hopelessly non-functional Peter. But because of our relationship and because of who she was, she simply reached past all the anguish, past all the emotional disintegration and pain to switch me back on again. Without her, I would have gone under.

She was not demonstrative.  I spent years trying to teach her to hug properly to no avail... Her upbringing meant she associated being demonstrative with feeling vulnerable - and she hated to feel vulnerable. But you knew how she felt, she had subtle ways to let you know.

When she first had cancer, I wrote her a couple of poems to tell her how I felt. This is one.

Before a Friend
we live lives of agoraphobia
when it comes to open hearts
convention masked and turtle backed
we hide our inner parts
whilst keeping up appearances
in a show we'd rather quit
we're on our knees inside our heads
alone and desperate

you evaded my defences
and saw the soul of me
yet chose to love me just the same
and trusted me to see
someone else who needs a friend
to see ourselves reflected
as better than we think we are
respecting and respected

clinging to my tethers end
when something had to give
I bared myself before a friend
who helped me love and live

intensive care and life support
I owe you sanity
with braided lives and plaited past
no owing what is free
take all you want and all you need
you’ll just increase the store
of human warmth that's wealth to me
and love and trust and more

clinging to our tethers end
when something had to give
we bared ourselves before a friend
who helped us love and live

you held my head up when it hung
wept my tears, came at my call
so when you're dealt a felling blow
I'll catch you as you fall
I'll hold your hand, and will you well
and feel the way you hurt
and catch the water in your eyes
as soul stains on my shirt

greater love hath no man than this
to hold a friend in need
when words are simply not enough
to sooth the burns that bleed
blank cheques to draw on all accounts
rosary words and creed
as safe feeling is believing
a friend of mine in deed

Using the past tense. Julia was. For me that's not appropriate. She is a part of me, a part of the person she has helped me become. Over the years, I've created a clone of her in my head and in my heart. I've used her inner voice in me to help make decisions: "If I had to explain this to Julia, what would she say?" I could always pick up the phone later and check. Now I can't. But she is still here, she is still present. Forget the past tense. She is here in me. She is here in all of you, and we are all, all the better for knowing her. She is still my family. She is still my beautiful friend, and I still love her.

Peter xxx