Lovers of Light

Growing up, my parents had friends and those friends had children. 
In an ideal world, all the children of the adult friends would be friendly with each other, but this was rarely the case, just as our parents were not buddy-buddy with our friends' parents. Ho hum.

But there was one exception. I was good mates with G, the daughter of B&A though we lived miles and miles apart and saw one another only during school holidays.

As can happen; swatting, exams, teenage angst and generally growing up and setting out on different paths meant that I have not actually had any communication with G for probably 40 years, but a couple of weeks ago her mum died and so I went along with mine to the funeral.
It was unbelievably good to meet the family I knew so well after such a long time, and also to meet the new members who have only heard tell of me.

Sadness, yes, celebration, yes, but I do have the strangest of emotions when the cause of death is the same disease that I was saved from. I don't suppose it is listed in The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, and even if it were, I wouldn't know how to go about finding it. I expect it is simply a very mild variant of survivor guilt, and as such, is too well documented to count as obscure.