I broke up with my best friend. Nearly five years ago, and holy fuck, was I an idiot. Had I known that it's nearly impossible to replace the kind of relationship that we had, I might have thought, for a half a second, about what I was doing, and how that would impact both our lives.
I've been thinking about her more and more lately. I've half-heartedly reached out a couple of times in the past few years, hoping to, I don't know, patch things up? Maybe. Apologize? Yes, especially now.
This past week, a friend passed away. He was a friend of my husband's, since their awkward high school days. I met him in the halcyon days of the coffee shop, where I met my husband, and would while away hours with Froderick, doing crossword puzzles together, drinking lots of coffee and smoking lots of cigarettes. He was a good one. He shouldn't have died. He should still be here.
He had moved out of the area, and after the move, I hadn't seen him at all, save for just this past August, on a random trip to the grocery store, one of the few times that I had my Monster in tow. He was up visiting, with his two children, and the three kids played for the few minutes that we were chatting, playing a quick set of Catch-Up. I was in a hurry to do something, I don't remember what it was now. And now, in the blink of an eye, he's gone forever.
What do you do after someone goes before their time? You hold those close to you, in my case, mandate that no one you love is allowed to travel in any method that does not involve them being on the inside of a steel cage, and mourn. His passing has brought those coffee shop days back to mind, and with them, Froderick too. I miss her even more, and perhaps more because part of me is pretty sure that we'll never get to be friends again. I don't want that to be the case, but that's not how things go in this world. All I can do is apologize, and wish her well.
Of course, I can't really remember what was such a goddamned big deal that I thought it best to break it off with her. For ease, I'll call her Froderick. There was some sort of drama in our little circle of friends, but I can't remember what it was. How stupid to throw away such an intense friendship over something that I can't remember.
I've been thinking about her more and more lately. I've half-heartedly reached out a couple of times in the past few years, hoping to, I don't know, patch things up? Maybe. Apologize? Yes, especially now.
This past week, a friend passed away. He was a friend of my husband's, since their awkward high school days. I met him in the halcyon days of the coffee shop, where I met my husband, and would while away hours with Froderick, doing crossword puzzles together, drinking lots of coffee and smoking lots of cigarettes. He was a good one. He shouldn't have died. He should still be here.
He had moved out of the area, and after the move, I hadn't seen him at all, save for just this past August, on a random trip to the grocery store, one of the few times that I had my Monster in tow. He was up visiting, with his two children, and the three kids played for the few minutes that we were chatting, playing a quick set of Catch-Up. I was in a hurry to do something, I don't remember what it was now. And now, in the blink of an eye, he's gone forever.
What do you do after someone goes before their time? You hold those close to you, in my case, mandate that no one you love is allowed to travel in any method that does not involve them being on the inside of a steel cage, and mourn. His passing has brought those coffee shop days back to mind, and with them, Froderick too. I miss her even more, and perhaps more because part of me is pretty sure that we'll never get to be friends again. I don't want that to be the case, but that's not how things go in this world. All I can do is apologize, and wish her well.
Froderick, if you are reading this: I'm so sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I miss you terribly, and I was a colossal idiot to be so mean. I hope you can forgive me, a little bit, at least.
