This has been a tough year; one filled with loss. I have endured the loss of my father, CML sisters and brothers, a neighbor, and the loss of my dear, childhood friend. While each and every one of these losses has left a hole in my heart, the death of my childhood friend is intangible. It is a loss that I cannot wrap my mind around, so please excuse the likeliness of a post, which bounces all over the board.
I am not certain why I feel compelled to share this raw emotion with the world, other than to shed light on the importance of relationships, and the harsh reality that life always ends in death; always. I believe that the ultimate decision is in God’s hands, but that doesn't mean I like it, or understand it.
I am fortunate to have a handful of true friends, you know the kind; the ones that you do not speak to everyday, but are always there in your heart; time and distance meaning nothing, as they are a part of your soul, and that is that. I am grateful for each and every one of you.
My childhood friend was all of that and more; he was the one person that has been in my life, for as long as I can remember. We were nine months apart in age, he being the “oldest”, a fact that he reminded me of constantly, until we hit the age of forty! Lol From that point on, I reminded him that he was the oldest! Lol
As life would have it, we shared ours’; our parents were best friends. We shared birthdays and holidays, school days and skipped school days, we shared our inner most secrets, fears and desires. He and I were together when my seven year old sister tragically died in a car accident; we didn't only share happy times, we shared tragic ones, too. Oddly enough it wasn't always what we said to each other, it was often simply the presence of each other, which mattered.
Losing him is like closing a major book in my life; not a chapter, but a book. It is the book on the shelf that my entire life has been built upon. It is the book, that no matter which chapter I chose to visit, I could share it with him because he has always been there; always. He helped me write that book and he was the only other person on this planet that knew what was written on those pages; we shared and built our lives, side by side. He was the spine of that book and I never imagined that he would be taken so soon. He was barely 56 years old and I am having a difficult time accepting the fact that even though I will always have our memories, I will no longer have the option of opening my book and revisiting my life, with the one person in the world that was there while it was developing.
Of course, I am fortunate enough to still have my mother, brother, sister and friends, but having a childhood friend without boundaries is a little different, it is that understanding that is gone and will so be missed. I still have so many questions to ask, and experiences to reminisce and contemplate that I am simply heartbroken; as so often is the case: I want one more day!
On the other side of the coin, I am extremely blessed, grateful and happy. I have a wonderful husband that I admire, love and appreciate more than words can say. We have four remarkable children and five amazing grandchildren. I have friends and family that love and support me, and a life that is sometimes challenging, but always rewarding, full and worth living.
I am discounting none of this, but despite having it all, I still suffer from sadness, and that is OK.
Sadness and grief are a part of life; an essential part of life. The only way to avoid heartache is to have not experienced joy; to live in a box and allow no one to penetrate your heart. For me, this is not an option and I realize it is because of the life that we shared, the memories that we made, and the time that we spent together growing up, that I am paying the price; the price of heartache for having the privilege, of having someone so special in my life. Without all of the joy, the pain would not be so severe; and I am honored to have been given the opportunity to have such a great partner in crime, to maneuver through childhood and into adulthood with; our friendship will always be cherished.
The most difficult part of losing my dear friend is the reality that we must all face the world without his bright light; his sense of humor and his unrelenting desire to help others. He was not through living and I know in my heart of hearts that God is probably having a difficult time convincing him that he really is where he is meant to be.
My heart not only breaks for me, it breaks for his devoted wife, his parents, his sister and her kids and a sea of friends that he has left behind.
Some things are just so hard to accept......Live, love and make each moment count.