The Friend Who Got Away

In friendships, we do the best we can.  

Sometimes, it's not enough.

We were good friends at one time. S and I started in the same month at the same company in 2003, and our birthdays were only days apart.  We started buying cakes for each other every year until we decided having a whole cake to ourselves wasn't really the best thing for our waistlines. We had lunch together often and hosted the office Christmas party together.  Her happy laugh and East Coast accent made her fun to be around.  We had scores of inside jokes and great experiences together.

She saw me through my divorce and cheered me on through the Summer I Got my Groove Back. We saw movies and had dinner together on a regular basis.  We played tennis and giggled at our limp serves. She was the only person at my company to know I was dating one of our colleagues from across the country, and we shared the secret conspiratorially. When he became my husband and was on the road for three weeks a month, I spent many evenings with her. When I left to move to Austin with Will, I was sad to leave her.

Returning to Atlanta for business was difficult, especially after I had my son. What was once trips of leisure and extended weekends turned into quick turnarounds and 30 stolen minutes of coffee and visits on the way to other engagements.  I never got to see anyone as much as I wanted; my first priority was getting home to my son.   

At some point in time, she stopped returning my calls. And my texts. And my email messages.

There was no drama; there was no blowup.  Clearly, I did or said something to hurt her feelings, but I don't know what. I sent her a message: I wish I knew why we don't speak any more. 

After months of radio silence, I gave up.  It feels wrong to give up on her, but there is a fine line between stalker and concerned former friend.

My heart feels her loss; I blame myself, because no other explanation is available.

In contrast, another friend I have had for several years out of the blue sent me a message telling me that her feelings were hurt, and the words with which I responded seemed to be the wrong ones.  Every time I saw her name online I felt a pang of regret for what I thought could not be repaired.  I didn't fully understand, but I reminded myself that her perception is her reality, and tried to see her point of view.  I'm sure that things have changed drastically since I've become a mom, and since I've moved to Texas; staying in touch takes more effort, and no one gets it right 100% of the time.

I took a deep breath one day, about a month or two later, and I wrote to her: "We have been friends for too long to let this die.  Let's figure it out together."   Slowly, haltingly, we exchanged messages and ideas, and started calling each other again.  We're both busy working mothers of active little boys, and keeping in touch is not as frequent as it was years ago, but we are doing the best we can.  A good friendship is always worth salvaging.

Although my friend's honesty was difficult to take, I much preferred the chance to stop, understand, and try to work through her feelings than the alternative. Distance and time constraints test friendships; it's easy to say that you don't have time for anyone who doesn't have time for you.  But the truth is, S, I miss you.  Every time I hear a Keith Urban or Bon Jovi song, I think of you and the many concerts we attended together.  Every time a new chick flick comes out, I remember our movie dates.  In my mind, I have boxed up our friendship and tie a beautiful ribbon of remembrance on it.

I wish you all the best and send you much love.

Love,