Remembering Old Friends

 

When I was in college I had a core group of friends that I swore I would be close forever. There were 8 of us and today I am only really in touch with 2 of them.  

In high school, I had one friend who was my "bestie."  We didn't meet until halfway through our junior year, but we were tight.  I am still in touch with her, but she and her family live in the Midwest and I'm on the east coast.  We don't talk/text as much as I'm guessing either of us would like.

In elementary/middle school I had a group of friends.  Some of which I am still in touch with.  There are those that I still meet up with once in a while; though not that often.

I had one "bestie" when I was in elementary school that I lost touch with when her family suddenly moved away one summer.  I had no idea they were going to move.  I don't know if they did either.  From what I can understand as an adult now (but didn't when I was young) was that the family situation wasn't great and so mom packed up the kids and left.  Looking back now, there was so much I didn't know or understand.  In many ways I was a privileged kid (I still am).  Not overwhelmingly so, but I did live in "white bread world" and I couldn't see outside of the box.  And so I lost touch with this friend and her brothers (which I was actually glad about because her one brother was quite a bully).

Now this friend and I walked to school together almost every day.  She was smart; smarter than I was.  We both liked to read.  We swopped books and magazines occasionally. (I can remember she had one on sharks that was fascinating...at least for a kid under 12.)  She came to my birthday parties.  (It seems like my mom would put one together for me every year.  Something I probably took for granted.  Again, unknowingly privileged.)  My friend only had one birthday party that I can remember.  I won this little stuffed dog at that party.  I kept it for years, even after she "disappeared."  It stayed in a drawer in my nightstand.  I must have gotten rid of it at some point, but I don't remember when.  I'm thinking it would have been maybe when I moved out of my parents’ home, so it was a long time.  I can still see it in my mind; this little brown dog that would fit in the palm of your hand.  Today I wish I still had it.  Silly?  Maybe?  Maybe not.

I heard from her twice since then.  Once was a year or so after her family left?  I don't know how she remembered my phone number.  (This was way before the days of cell phones.)  She was living in the south.  The tales she told me were a little wild.  (Oh, I was such a sheltered child in many ways.)  And then that was it.

For the years that followed, I did think about her and wonder.  Then a mutual friend from our elementary days told me she was living in the area.  I don't know how this other friend knew, but she did and she passed on a cell phone number.  And so my bestie from elementary school and I met up one Saturday.

I picked her up as she didn't have a car.  She was (temporarily) living in the next town over.  We went to get coffee.  We sat outside so that she could smoke.

Her life had been hard.  As an adult, I could now understand how hard it must have been.  The life that she had live had taken its toll.  I thought she looked older than she was.  Life will do that to you.  She reminded me of her grandmother, who had lived with them.  I realized how different our paths had been and how lucky/blessed I was.  

I wanted to keep in touch and I tried (though in retrospect not hard enough).  While she had a phone, it was limited.  She had no computer and wasn't much one for going to the library to learn how to use one. I may have called her once or twice; she never called me.  When I sent her a birthday card a year or so later, it came back as she no longer lived at the address.  She had slipped through my fingers again.

Although she was not on social media, it turns out her mother was, somewhat.  I'd see posts from her mother; I'd like them or comment.  We'd wish each other well on birthdays.  I don't think we talked about her daughter.  My friend had been her only daughter; she had 3 sons, two who were still living.

Her mother wished me a happy birthday again this year and then a day or so later let me know that my friend/her daughter had died two months ago.  I don't know where she was living when she had the fatal heart attack.  My heart hurts that she is gone.  But mostly what I mourn is the times that we didn't have.  I may be "old" now but I still remember clearly all the fun we did have and that it didn't (and couldn't) continue.  And, of course, I feel guilt for not being a better friend once we reconnected.

The point of all this?  Savor the memories you have.  Reach out to those friends you've lost touch with who helped make those memories.  If you don't hear back, try again.  Keep trying.  Remind your friends how much they mean to you.  Share those memories.  Share those stories.  

I know I am going to do more to connect with those who I hold dear and how I am guilty of NOT following up with.  My time with my elementary school friend has been lost and for that I feel sorrow, but perhaps there is a lesson here for me.  And it's not just one to learn, but to act on.