Friendship is
quite possibly one of the most important factors in a human’s life., especially
long-term friendships. I had one. It began in junior high school. We didn’t
live far apart and walked to and from school together. I told her all my
secrets, ideas, wishes, plans and she did the same to me. Our friendship lasted
for decades and then ended abruptly and painfully.
We helped each other through troubling
times. She got pregnant the last month of our senior year of high school, and
the asshole wouldn’t even take her to the senior prom. She decided to keep her
daughter. I got pregnant later that same year and made the choice to give my
daughter up for adoption.
We were maids of honor at each other’s
weddings. We watched our children grow up together. We celebrated birthdays and
anniversaries. I thought this was a friendship that would never end. I was
wrong.
Over the decades, I watched as my
friend had put her needs/wants before that of her family and/or children. For
some reason, I thought I was exempt from such treason. I was wrong. When it
happened, I couldn’t believe that she would put someone/something else above
our friendship. But, there it was…I was in second or even last place.
For the remainder of my life, I have tried
to understand how she could have thrown me and our long-term friendship away as
if it were a used Kleenex. I tried to talk to her, but my thoughts/feelings
didn’t matter. Even, years later when I reached out, she didn’t reach back.
Over time, I would see her here and
there and always made a point of stopping and talking to her. I guess I kept
hoping she’d tell me she missed me as much as I missed her. That never happened;
and while we apparently live on the opposite sides of a hill, it isn’t likely we
will meet up again to talk about anything important in our lives, either back
then or today…I’m not even sure she knows John died.
I have to tell you this was
undoubtedly the most painful experience I’ve ever had. How do you let go of a
friend/friendship that’s lasted for decades? How do you let go of your friend’s
children, their futures, their happiness when you’ve been on the ground floor,
so to speak, since almost conception? I don’t have an answer for those
questions. I only know I still miss the history, the connection, the future we
could have had together.
Yes, I do have long-term friends now.
None of them knew me when I was in junior high school. None of them knew me
when I was pregnant with a child I knew I couldn’t keep. None of them knew me
in the early years of my marriage or during the early years of being a mom, of
working outside the home, of marital problems. Only this woman knew me from
what was almost the beginning of me.
I regret she no longer is a part of my
life. What would she have offered at John’s death, at my efforts to begin anew
with just me, myself and I? I have no idea because it’s been so long since we
shared anything at all. What I do remember is the friends I have now, the ones
that have supported me through the difficult years of John’s illness, the time
following his death, the future plans I’ve made and am making. I am so thankful
for these women (and men), for their shoulders, words of comfort and
encouragement, presence in my life when I’ve needed someone, their love and
support, their just being there. True, I still miss the woman who held the
prime position for more than 40 years, but I wouldn’t trade her for a single one
of the women who inhabit my world today.
I offer my deepest appreciation, friendship
and undying love for the women who inhabit my life today. I sincerely doubt a
single one of them would ever leave me feeling as though a very sharp knife
were protruding from my shoulder blades, but then I didn’t expect it from her
either.
None
of the women in my life may have any idea of how valuable their participation
in my life is to me. As the Mastercard commercial says, PRICELESS. Bless each
of you. Thank each of you for your love, support, caring and participation in
my life. My only hope that I can provide reciprocity to each of you as needed or desired.
