Sting

The sting of lost friendship. You know what I mean. Someone you thought was a friend. Someone you trusted, someone you allowed to see into your heart and soul. For no reason you know of, suddenly they cool towards you. They stop returning phone calls or emails. When you talk to them, they ignore what you say. If you ask if anything's wrong, they deny it. Or pretend they haven't heard.

Some people might get angry if that happens to them. Anger is so much more empowering. But I can't. I just get sad, and down. Someone I love has moved off onto a different ice-floe. Someone I care for has stopped caring for me. How will anger help?

There is so much loss already. Friends die; they get sick; their lives change so much that it's hard to keep that connection. I'm rereading Map of The Harbor Islands, a masterly story about Petey Harding and Danny O'Connor, two Southies from Boston. Best friends. Bestest friends. About how we need someone to share our deepest quirks and oddities. We are all of us unique, we are all a bit odd. Some of us are more eccentric (= outside the centre) than others. We need other humans to show that our oddnesses don't make us nothings. A friend is a person who knows you, but loves you anyway.

No point wallowing, as another once very dear friend used to say. He's dead, now. Thank you, God. I knew You cared.

Gotta keep going, neh? But niggling at every moment in the day is a wash of sorrow and hurt. So. I'd better go get ready to face the day. Whingeing won't help. And maybe I'll see something that lifts my heart.

This lovely photo comes from here, and was taken by Ted Szukalski, an amazing photographer.