Smoothies and Old Love Letters

     I feel a bit like a smoothie.


     Once, I had many unique feelings, thoughts, and emotions.  There were ripe, juicy raspberries, sooth, rounded scoops of yogurt, and dollops of peanut butter. But now everything's broken. Sliced to bits until all I'm left with is a weak resemblance of what was there before.


     Metaphors are horrible ways to express yourself.  Why then, do I employ one here?  I think it is because it creates some comforting emotional distance.  But perhaps I'll try being more specific.




Some documented things you have said to me in the past:
You are never "just" anything.
I love being a part of your life.
Of course you're not boring.
I miss you.
I have told him so many times that I wish you were here so that I could just roll over to one of the fifty other beds and talk to you.
I never knew how much I needed a friend like you in my life.
Our friendship gives me so much courage and strength and peace.
I'm sorry.
Always yours. Always.
Of course I'm not mad.
I love you, and that won't change.






     Shortly after my uncle left my aunt, I wrote a journal entry making a list of all the things I loved about my MIA uncle.  Below the list, I wrote that I didn't want to forget, through time and bitterness, that there really were things about him that I loved.  (Truthfully, I was a bit less eloquent at the time, but it was long those lines.)  I don't want to forget our four-year friendship either.  I don't want to forget what you meant to me, and what I meant to you.  Before two roads diverged in a yellow wood and our paths grew apart so gradually that I didn't know what was happening until it was too late.


     I think the hardest part in this is having to wonder... how could I be so forgettable?


     Because when something earth-shattering and life changing happens to you, I find out after the fact that a half dozen of your friends were there with you.  And for those who couldn't be there with you? For those people, you updated them personally throughout the process.  Yet I have to wait with the crowds.  Unsure what's going on.  Praying from the sidelines, updating social media again and again, looking for the only update I can hope for.


     Forgotten.




     Well, my dear.
     I loved being a part of your life.
     You were never "just"anything to me - there were times when your words meant everything.
     You were not boring, we had so much fun together.
     There are still times when I wish I could roll over and talk to you the way we used to.
     You were the friend I never expected to need.
     I miss you too.
     Our alienation makes me feel fearful, powerless, and unsettled.
     I'm not sure why, but I'm sorry.  Really, honestly sorry if I failed you.  I'm sorry to abandon you to your path, regardless of whether or not that's what you want from me.
     Of course I'm not mad.  I'm frustrated, confused, and withdrawn perhaps.  Yet, for the sake of everything we were four years ago, there will always (always) be a piece of me that feels only hurt when it reflects on you and I.
     Because I love you, and that won't change.