Every once in a while…

published: 2009-03-10

Every once in a while, someone tells me about my best friend. Well, she isn’t actually, objectively speaking my best friend. Best friendships are a relationship like any other relationship. One can only justifiably call someone a best friend if the other person feels the same way. So anyway, once upon a time, I had a best friend. There was no doubt in my mind she was to become my child’s godmother. Or be the first maid to my wedding. I to hers. I’d hold her hand if she were to lose her mother, her father, her
brother. She’d sleep in my bed. That of my parents even. Because over time, they too had become her loved ones. Life is full of shared loved ones.
One day, she decided I was no longer to be her friend, let alone best friend. I don’t know why. It just happened. She stopped returning my calls. And there was nothing I could do about it. I kicked and screamed and pleaded and cried. To no avail. For a while, I tried pretending she died. My best friend died. Somehow, that seemed easier. But there was one issue she had overlooked: we still had the shared loved ones. And they keep reminding me of her existence. Most of them wonder what I did wrong. I can’t blame them. I would do the same. Over night someone decides to unfriend her best friend, surely that best friend must have done something awfully and terribly wrong. So by and by, the shared loved ones are turning into her loved ones. I have been told that my best friend is doing very well. I suppose I’m happy for her. And sad for myself. For no longer being the loved one to share this with.