Trials and Tribulations of a friend

When I was in the seventh grade, I became friends with one of those people whose smile is infectious, whose warmth and kindness and quick wit makes her the sort of person who stands out from the murk of adolescent bullshit and backstabby bitches.

Back then my friend always went out of her way to celebrate birthdays; she wrote heartfelt cards with lots of hearts and xoxoxoxox lines and could always be counted on for a hug.  She always had a boyfriend and I can easily remember hushed conversations between us where she shared and imparted girlfriend wisdom while (relatively boyfriendless) I did little more than blush.

She stood up for me at my wedding, wearing a floor-length green velvet gown (that was too tight to fashionably accommodate underwear), and when it was her trip down the aisle 4 years ago, when she married a man she’d met and fallen in love with during a year living in Anchorage, I flew out to Vegas (where they were living) and stood up in champagne silk and stupid shoes for her.  She and her love were very always in touching distance and planned to spend the rest of their lives together. She’d really been waiting for this kind of relationship, this kind of guy, since forever.

We don’t speak often - maybe once every few months, but around November, I couldn’t get her on the phone.  What did I do?  I took it personally and although I thought I had learned this lesson, but when I didn’t hear from her on my birthday, I perceived her lack of communication as a sign that she was mad at me or that I had done something to upset her.  I called her a lot, got insecure and failed to see this was about her and whatever it was that she was going through and, specifically, NOT sharing with me. She emailed, apologized for being a bad friend, but said little more than generalities beyond that.

The last time I spoke with my friend in October, she was asking about coming out to the northeast to attend my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah ( she came to mine, back in 1980), and then… nothing.

What did I do?  Stalk.  Worry.  Stalk AND worry.  Send understanding emails and texts.  Cards full of love.

I missed her at the Bat Mitzvah and since a lesson in patience seemed to be in order, backed off and waited to hear from her.  I am not the most patient person on the planet and since I could easily tell something, perhaps illness, perhaps an inability to have the children she’d always wanted,  perhaps something else was WRONG, I had to actively put her from my mind and deal with the fact that while I was entirely ready to be her shoulder, as we’ve been for the other for 25 years, SHE wasn’t ready to talk.  I found this completely frustrating and continued to worry, not that THAT did the slightest good. I wanted to be an ACTIVE friend, ready to take care of her!  Not what she was ready for, I was repeatedly directed to the “please be patient” waiting room.

Three weeks ago, she emailed me to say that she was ready to talk, but I didn’t actually speak to her until this morning, when she answered my call. It was tremendous to hear her voice.

Turns out she’s not sick, as I worried she was.  Well, not physically.  She’s just heartsick.

Apparently, in DECEMBER, she officially separated from her husband. And then she coped by herself, cried for weeks and weeks, worked to untangle her life from his, and was too embarrassed, too disappointed, too angry to talk about it with me or her other friends.

This is a lesson for me into further understanding of human relationships. I find myself asking whether I could or would disappear from the lives of my friends if I were to go through something like this.  I don’t think I would, and I wish I understood, really grasped and didn’t judge that she DID. It’s selfish of me, and I feel small admitting it, but I was so worried, so convinced this was a worst case health scenario situation, I am partially relieved.

I’m so sad for her but glad she’s ready to be helped, to be listened to as she does the crying she warned me she’ll not be able to withhold. What’s clear to me from the short conversation we had is that she is over the worst of the sadstorms, the weeping jags and the anger, and while I wish I had been able to help her through that stage, I just wasn’t.  Now, she’s mostly disappointed, but determined to move on and get to the paperwork and other details that will undo her marriage.

She’s still all of those things she was, but now she’s less idealistic, more jaded.  If she needs me, I’ll be part of the team that helps her rebuild, encourages her and listens.

She lives too far away to hug, so I am sending her this one.