fenixroyale
Dec 7th, 2008, 3:48 pm
I am presently watching a close friend of mine grieve for a good friend of his who died unexpectedly the day after Thanksgiving. I am reminded of my recent trip into the "In Memorium" forum and the feelings it created in me, empathy and sympathy for total strangers and for the people who loved them. It brought to mind this essay, written some time ago, and before so many more that I've known passed away, if you have an inclination to read it.
T.
Looking Back
I woke up feeling melancholy this morning, thinking back on all the friends I've lost in my life that I wish I hadn't.
The first time it happened, at least that I remember, was when I was eleven. My best friend moved away from the city where we both lived. My own family had lived there only for a couple of years, but when you're eleven, two years is a huge chunk of your whole life, so I felt like I had known him a long time -- and I had, in kid years. He moved away, gone forever, my play army buddy, my best friend -- my first real friend. His name was Tommy.
I never saw or heard from Tommy again, but his moving away left a hole in a little kid's life. Of course I grew up and realized that life is not supposed to be the same, life is fluid, change is good, loss is inevitable, I know all that. But losing your best friend at eleven -- the sadness lasts a long time, and when you grow up, you can't help but wonder who and where he is now, and what might have been.
The next time it happened, Gordon, my best friend from my youth, died in a car crash. Although we did not see each other very often after we both became adults and settled into our grown-up lives in our grown-up worlds, at least I always knew he was out there, cherishing the same memories that I did. We had that between us, ours alone, like magic gold coins that we both could spend.
The whole world changed for me when Gordon left it. It has never been the same, of course it never will be again. I am not the same person in a world that exists without him in it. No sunset is as full and colorful as it might be, no personal accomplishment is quite as great, no laughter lasts quite as long. I miss him often, and after 20 years, I still grieve. It's not that I'm unhappy; I just always feel the empty place.
As years have gone by, I have lost other friends, too, perhaps most regrettably of all for being avoidable. Some from neglect or carelessness or stupidity, sometimes my own. Some from misunderstandings that were never corrected. Some from changing perspectives and values that simply no longer matched so well with the passing of time. Some from pure busy-ness. Busy lives. Busy work. Busy, busy, busy.
As I look back, I realize there are far too many of them gone, perhaps forever, and in some cases, I'm not even sure how it happened, I don't know how the caring stopped, I don't know when or why the communication ended.
When it happens, of course, we move on, and life is still good, as good as we can make it for ourselves. But lost friends are errors, they feel to me like mistakes on the paper of my life story that no amount of white-out can ever completely conceal or correct.
So as I get older, and learn more, and suffer loss more acutely, I try to take better care, and so should we all.
Best to you,
Ted A. Thompson
T.
Looking Back
I woke up feeling melancholy this morning, thinking back on all the friends I've lost in my life that I wish I hadn't.
The first time it happened, at least that I remember, was when I was eleven. My best friend moved away from the city where we both lived. My own family had lived there only for a couple of years, but when you're eleven, two years is a huge chunk of your whole life, so I felt like I had known him a long time -- and I had, in kid years. He moved away, gone forever, my play army buddy, my best friend -- my first real friend. His name was Tommy.
I never saw or heard from Tommy again, but his moving away left a hole in a little kid's life. Of course I grew up and realized that life is not supposed to be the same, life is fluid, change is good, loss is inevitable, I know all that. But losing your best friend at eleven -- the sadness lasts a long time, and when you grow up, you can't help but wonder who and where he is now, and what might have been.
The next time it happened, Gordon, my best friend from my youth, died in a car crash. Although we did not see each other very often after we both became adults and settled into our grown-up lives in our grown-up worlds, at least I always knew he was out there, cherishing the same memories that I did. We had that between us, ours alone, like magic gold coins that we both could spend.
The whole world changed for me when Gordon left it. It has never been the same, of course it never will be again. I am not the same person in a world that exists without him in it. No sunset is as full and colorful as it might be, no personal accomplishment is quite as great, no laughter lasts quite as long. I miss him often, and after 20 years, I still grieve. It's not that I'm unhappy; I just always feel the empty place.
As years have gone by, I have lost other friends, too, perhaps most regrettably of all for being avoidable. Some from neglect or carelessness or stupidity, sometimes my own. Some from misunderstandings that were never corrected. Some from changing perspectives and values that simply no longer matched so well with the passing of time. Some from pure busy-ness. Busy lives. Busy work. Busy, busy, busy.
As I look back, I realize there are far too many of them gone, perhaps forever, and in some cases, I'm not even sure how it happened, I don't know how the caring stopped, I don't know when or why the communication ended.
When it happens, of course, we move on, and life is still good, as good as we can make it for ourselves. But lost friends are errors, they feel to me like mistakes on the paper of my life story that no amount of white-out can ever completely conceal or correct.
So as I get older, and learn more, and suffer loss more acutely, I try to take better care, and so should we all.
Best to you,
Ted A. Thompson