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“Walter,” he said. “You are going through a difficult period, but it will end soon.”

“Are you sure?” I thought.

“If you shrink into yourself, it will be more difficult for you to move on. Open up to me, share your feelings, and together we will decide what to do next. We all knew Robert, he was a good friend to many, and your loss is our loss.”

Robert. No-one called him Robert. Our loss? Who the hell are you to talk about him? Thoughts raced through my head, but I was silent.

“Death doesn’t only choose the sick and old”.

Oh, really.

“Sometimes it takes the young and healthy, but God works in mysterious ways.”

C’mon, and God is here, right.

“We have to believe that he is in heaven, and he’s ok.”

Are you a psychologist or a priest?

“He’s gone, but we continue to live, and we must not give way to grief.”

You try that.

“We must find the strength to move on …”

Blah, blah, blah. He talked a lot. He tried to appeal to my feelings, then to my mind, and then just resorted to asking questions that I only answered yes or no to. Later I heard him telling my mother that he was able to get talking teenagers who were far more troubled than me, and advised her to talk to me more about what was going on.