I've been mulling whether to say anything on this, but the memories of other lost friends is encouraging me.
There was a story in our news about a local student going missing in Hawaii. A couple of days ago, they found his body. He was a pretty good friend of ours, much more of Hubby's than mine. He and his in-laws and family were on a trail, he was up in a tree and fell out onto his mother-in-law. They both hit a rock, and she broke her ankle. They thought he hit his head on the rock, but he insisted he was fine. He was horribly mortified by having hurt his MIL, and went off a little way to sit down and catch his breath. His brother-in-law said they were heading out in a little bit once they got MIL's ankle strapped up, and he said he wanted to gather his composure a bit longer. They never saw him again.
They headed down the trail, didn't see him, assumed he'd gone ahead. After a while, they realized they didn't know where he was. He may have gone on the wrong trail, or slipped off once his head injury got too much for him. There's a lot of growth where they were. It was nearly a week before they found him.
I find a lot of Hubby's friends to be like large, overly friendly puppies: fine in small doses, but tiresome in the long run. But such a damned weird death is haunting.