I wrote a letter (and sent it) to one of the dearest friends I have ever had today. I wrote it because he is no longer one of my friends, and I cannot think of him, and the situation, without crying, without feeling bereft. Without feeling alone. Weeks can go by with nary a thought of him, and then boom, I am thinking of him again and I am feeling that old wound like it is a new one, inflicted just moments before. I wrote the letter as some sort of mental shake for myself, to just LET GO of the whole thing, to recognize and accept the end of the friendship.
It's melodramatic (but when am I not?), but it's a very fraught situation for me, because I was simply not ready for the friendship to end, and it's demise is untimely, and too soon. I have done a good deal of reading recently on the subject of women's friendships ending, most recently "What Did I Do Wrong?" and in doing this reading, attempting to figure out my own friendships that have ended--that are ending. I haven't come to any conclusions but that it always, always hurts, and that we are in no way taught, or conditioned to accept female "break-ups". That when they happen, it isn't sanctioned for us to get depressed and sit on the couch and cry, even though those friendships that end are sometimes longer and more enduring than our romantic entanglements. There is no way for us to grieve outwardly. We're supposed to shake it off, let it go, and move on. Easy, with no grief.
It, of course, doesn't happen that way in real life. I am moving through a process that is tricky to navigate. The letter I've written is one way to keep that process going. To be done. (I may post the letter, in its entirety, at a later date, when I think the recipient has gotten it.)
I would love to borrow this sometime.
Posted by: M | July 20, 2006 at 04:52 PM