Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Queen of {broken} Hearts

Facebook keeps you updated on all the things you've been through over the years with their "on this day" feature.

This morning I saw a reminder of when my dear friend, Heather and her husband brought us a captain's bed for the living room and took away my old, but well loved couch.  Sarah was going to come over to help move things around.  Truth is that we were well equipped in regards to assistance.   She called to cancel.  She was so apologetic.  I wasn't worried about it.  It as the last time I heard her voice.  Two years ago.  I haven't heard her voice in two years.

I've been cold about her death.  I've held on to anger about her taking her own life.  I've held onto anger for her not asking for help.  I've held on to anger at her mother feeding her insecurities in countless ways so she felt she could not help.  I've held on to anger about numerous people who *could* have helped over the years and *should* have helped and did not.  I've ignored any pain.  I've ignored any feelings of loss.

Tonight, I'm just sad.  I miss her.  I miss her smile.  Her evil laugh.  Her desire to do right by everyone she encountered. Then there was her longing to feel worthy..... and that last bit complicated our friendship.  She couldn't stop trying to *do* for me.  I didn't want her to.  I just wanted her to *be*.  Part of me fears she took it as rejection.  It was after I told Sarah that I didn't want her to counsel me, to try to fix me.  A mutual friend said at one point Sarah thought our friendship was over.  I heard this and I was baffled.  We still talked after that, but it was strained.  One night I was telling her how hard things had been lately.  At first she was quiet.  Then she told me she wanted to help but didn't know what to do.  She was queen at putting on a front (that worthiness thing), but in that moment, she was so very real.  She let me see her vulnerability.  I just said it would help to listen and that if I needed anything I would ask.  Things shifted in a good way.  I don't remember if it was that night, or another, but one night after that we talked.  She heard me and my sadness and I heard hers.  I invited her over.  I said that I was depressed and she was too, and it was better to be depressed together. We ate chips and dip, we crafted, we didn't talk much, but we shared space.  I'm grateful for that time.  I'm grateful that we mended fences.  I likely wouldn't have forgiven myself if we didn't.

And tonight.  A dam has broken. I've cried more tonight for her than I have in the last two years.  My heart aches.  I'm sorry, Sarah, for hardening my heart.  I didn't want to hurt.  I didn't want to miss you so much.  But I do.  I miss you so very much.