Robyn lost her husband the same day I lost my best friend. We sat across from each other at Mike’s hospital bed, moments after he passed. She caressed his forehead while I looked away, trying to ground myself as the room spun. I couldn’t bear to see my larger-than-life friend drained of color for fear I would remember him this way. My friendship with Mike dates back to 1989, when we were teenagers growing up outside Detroit.