Feeling Friendly: Part 4 – Letter to a Friend

There will be events we wish had gone differently.  Things we wish we had done differently.  Places we wish we had not gone.  Moments we wish could be undone.

Even people we wish could or would come back.

Sometimes we change hoping they will have too.  And sometimes they do.  Sometimes we take time to gain perspective.  And sometimes they do too.

Sometimes all we have is the hope all of that will make a difference.

Snail Mail Fail

Brother One’s ex-partner, my friend, MG really pulled the rug out from under us.  Just before Christmas.

Like a cold, unexpected, slap to the cheeks.

We were down on our asses.  Bewildered.  Befuddled.  Bereaved.

Wait a minute…

Did all of that really just fucking happen

Seriously? 

A week earlier we had been joking.  I was fielding worries about whether her new guy was going to propose or not.  Interpreting dreams.  All the same shit we had always done.  But we wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

The reunion a few months earlier had gone almost flawlessly.  We met for lunch, began texting daily.  That sisterly bond, the friendship, was still there.  We could read each other’s thoughts, cracked each other up, and gushed over our kids and the possibility of them seeing each other.  Brother One was road blocking that.  But MG vowed to do everything she could to sway him.  Got down on her knees, looked my child (her nephew – because she was, as far as we were concerned, the only adult in an aunt/uncle role worthy of the title) right in his beautiful blue eyes and promised him he would see his cousin over the Christmas break.

And then broke that promise.  Shattered it.

And any illusions of friendship I had.  There was a sudden silence.  A distance.  Threw me for a complete loop.

But Mommy, if you make a promise you know you can’t keep and break it, that is like lying…isn’t it?  So.  She’s a liar, right?

Uhhh…

The first couple of months after the reunion were, as I said, nearly perfect.  But after the almost fatal accident witnessed by Brother One happened, it all changed.  And I (still) can’t quite put my finger on it.

We were excited to learn that she had met someone she was in love with, who gave her and her daughter what they needed, and we were excited to meet him.  Since our goal was a complete reunion we wanted to make sure MG and him knew that we supported them, so we invited them to dinner.  More than once.  And more than once we were met with a luke-warm response followed by a declined invitation.  Until she said, he can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that you’re Brother One’s sister.  She had no follow up.  No comforting, I told him you are but that has nothing to do with the friendship we have.  When him said that, I had absolutely no contact with Brother One.  Had not had contact in over two years.  Was not interested in contact with Brother One unless it would help speed the “process” and get the kiddos in contact.  We never extended another invite.

A couple of weeks after that comment Brother One went up to bio-lady’s with his kiddo for a warranted break; he had witness a horrific accident at work.  Was shaken up enough to contact me.  After visiting him (before he went up to see bio-lady) I had renewed and, what I thought was, valid hope.

But everything changed.

And ever since I have struggled.  Over and over I have tossed plausible actions.  Then remained inactive.  Spent weeks composing a hand written note (the bulk of which is summarized above) and never actually completed it.  Or sent it.  Never typed an email (after the back and forth that ultimately concluded with a polite fine, fuck you, I love you, but fuck you – maybe we will readdress this all at a later date…).  Just kind of sat there spinning.  Unable to grasp a proper understanding of any of it.

I was and am still upset.

MG, my supposed-bestie, my sister from another mister, left me hanging there, with a big fucking mess of a situation underneath me.   A child looking to me for answers I could not possibly have.  She basically handed me my brother in a tidy package, like, “I’m moving on with my life for real now and he’s your brother (as my new man so poignantly pointed out), so there you go, work things out between you…byyyyyye!”

And she did that knowing he would never ever contact me.  Because he won’t.  He didn’t respond to one email before Christmas.  He didn’t respond to the text I sent in response to him asking me to understand why possibly upsetting that bio-bitch was reason enough for the kiddos to NOT see each other.

Brother One isn’t a roadblock.

He’s a dead end.

Is a picture really worth a thousand words?

We have remained social media friends.  We causally LIKE things on each other’s various pages.  I am sure she hangs on for the same reasons I do.  To catch a glimpse, an update of each other’s respective little ones.  Stay in tune with each other’s lives in a discreet way.

And, at least I would like to think, because under all the bullshit we actually do care about each other.

But that isn’t always clear.

After months of waiting to see if and when him would propose, it happened.  And when it did I sensed it.  When I saw all the celebratory pictures posted online days later, I knew it.  Call it what you like, tell me I shouldn’t care, but I did.  I do.  My feelings were really hurt.

Just to be REALLY clear, this is NOT a picture of MG and him.  In fact, this is probably the furthest thing from them.  BUT it sort of encapsulates the whole thing for me.

Just to be REALLY clear, this is NOT a picture of MG and him. In fact, this is probably the furthest thing from them. BUT it sort of encapsulates the whole thing for me.

Surely she could have sent a text or an email???  That’s a life changing thing for her and my niece.  And I wasn’t worthy of being told personally.  Maybe I have no right to think I should have been.  But that’s how I feel.  Like a whole lot more of me went in to round whatever of this friendship than her.  That group of girls is and always be all she needs.  Not me.  I never was.  Not ever.  Or maybe just temporarily.  But could she not have told me that?  Could she not have been honest?  “I’m sorry.  There was a time we were really good friends.  But our paths are different now and while I had hoped the kids would be able to have a relationship or at least see each other once in a while, I don’t have room for our friendship anymore,” is all it would have taken.

So I went ahead and clicked LIKE.  Then sent my congratulations.  In a comment below.

Why hang on?

Letting people go is hard.  Whether they die and we are forced to, because something has eliminated their physical presence so we have to.  Or it is by choice.  It is hard to let go of the good ones and the bad ones.  Think of all the people you know that make you privately say, “They should leave, this relationship is no good for them,” knowing they will probably never leave.  Sometimes the decision to let people go is hard.  And painful.  Especially if they are alive.  Especially when you love them.  Especially when you have to.

Because it is life threatening if you do not.  If I did not…

All relationships are conundrums.  Because they are living, growing emotional things.  Relationships change because people change.  And I don’t mean for the worse.  Though there is an unnecessary and seemingly negative connotation that follows the world change

I would much rather look at change like hope.  With change comes hope.

And hope can make all the difference.

2 thoughts on “Feeling Friendly: Part 4 – Letter to a Friend

  1. Oh, boy. “Letting go is hard.” I should have been keeping up with your posts, but the fact that I wasn’t, and you and I wrote on the same theme may just be one of those cases of the idea-ether floating these moony thoughts around and into fellow blogger’s brains simultaneously.

    Excellent that you included the perspective of looking at OTHERS and thinking “They should leave.” Or, in this case, “Why doesn’t s/he just let the relationship go?”

    I’m sorry this happened to you, and your wee one. Sucks big. Now that you’ve written it out, it may help you to move on, as writing it out helps me.

  2. Pingback: Busted Guts: The Middle | A Soul is a Resilient Thing

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