The loss of a friend is like that of a limb. Time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.
Robert Southey
I buried my friendship yesterday.
It had been dying for quite some time, but I still clung to the hope that some day we might get back to what we used to have. As many illusions do when they break, this one shattered magnificently, leaving me swirling in a black hole of misery for the past three days.
Once upon a time, I truly loved my friend. We were nearly inseparable, just like little children with a new best friend we were. We could laugh until our bellies hurt and the tears ran down our cheeks. We talked on the phone no less than 3 times a day, often much more. She drove my husband crazy with her different ideas and great influence over my thinking.
She really did have a huge effect on me. I can see it now where I couldn’t admit it before. Oh yes, there were things we disagreed about, but over all she taught me to stand up to my own ideas. Unfortunately for my husband, I liked a lot of the seemingly radical parenting ideas she introduced me to and adopted them as mine.
I first received an inkling that I might need to be choosier about my adoption process when her marriage fell apart. A messy break-up it was too. Over 5 years of back and forth and up and downs before she finally declared herself free. Although with children in the mix, one is never completely free, but there seems to be some kind of working it out happening the past couple of years. Sometime in there, the first small split started to happen.
Oh it wasn’t very big. Nothing we even really noticed. One little judgment is all it takes and the seam of friendship starts to show a little wear. Over the years, we started to see things differently in more and more places, see each other differently. We could still get together and laugh outrageously, but we started talking on the phone less and less, and our visits became farther in between. We each started holding back from each other; no longer sharing every detail of our lives
These past three years we had been more like acquaintances than true blue friends. She didn’t tell me much at all about her life anymore, and I reciprocated in kind. Neither of us wanted to be judged so harshly by the other I suppose. Months went by between phone calls, and visits never happened. I missed my friend deeply, but neither of us were the same person we used to be. To be truthful, I wasn’t willing to be the first to reach back in; I had been slapped back to many times at that point. Even if I had, I now know that we would never have gotten back to where we once were. Like a river in the soft clay earth, the judgments of the past had eroded too much away.
The day she did reach out to me, it was in hurt and anger, with an accusation that left me nearly speechless. It was hours before I was able to realize the full extent of what had just happened. A friendship that no longer has any trust is no friendship at all, and she obviously was willing to believe the worst of me.
As I look back on it now, I realize that our friendship had been dead for some time. It was the hope held aloft by an illusion that died with that phone call. Hope was just another casualty of the explosion. So now, with my eyes cleared, I can say goodbye to a friendship, shed a tear for the loss of trust, and lay my false hopes to rest. I still miss my friend and always will. While she no longer believes it, I wish her no harm and hope she is well, but she is no longer welcome within my circle, nor I in hers. Still, I remember what we had and cherish those memories. My only regret is that we will no longer be making new memories together.
Cabin in the Sky 