Fairy Tale Friend

I am a passionate person.  There is so much in my life that has the ability to make my heart feel as if it's going to literally burst out of its cavity from within my chest.  It can be something that seems so simple, like the flower that I studied last Tuesday in watercolor class.  The picture was of an iris, my mother's favorite flower, and I was so taken aback by its absolute loveliness.  That flower didn't have a clue of the beauty it possessed, the power which it held over me.  Before the brush even touched the paper, my painting didn't stand a chance; it was doomed.  I was too busy thinking of my mother, of the unblemished miracle in each petal of the flower.

Oh, and the music!!!!!  Music, with melodies so gorgeous that tears can come to my eyes.  Truth be known, there have been times when one solitary note can choke me up.  My passion can lie within the wonder of watching a clutch of bird eggs, or the sight of a baby as he turns his lips up to smile. And there's my favorite heart-swell, the sound of my husband telling me that he loves me.  Yes, that is the best.

One of my most cherished passions is friendship.  I know so very many people, hundreds and probably even thousands. As a retired teacher, each school year opened its door to allow even more people to enter my life.  Every student that I taught had siblings and parents and even grandparents who came to concerts and watched their child as I waved my baton up on stage, more people to recognize me on the streets or in the grocery store.  My husband used to joke that we couldn't go anywhere, out of town or out of state, without someone calling out my name.  Add to that the neighbors past and present, other multitudes of community members, all of the groups and organizations to which I belong.  It adds up.  Still, out of those throngs of people that I know as acquaintances, there are few that are considered close, trusted friends. The value that I place upon them is immeasurable, as precious and miraculous to me as the petals of that iris.   

I've lost friends before.  One of my dearest died after a short bout with cancer.  Enough time has passed that whenever I think of my Evelyn, it can bring a smile to my face because I realize that I was and am blessed to have had her in my life at all.  Not everyone was fortunate enough to have known her.  Another friend is not lost; our friendship has simply transformed.  Kim lives clear across the country now but our hearts remain bonded and we never have to search for that unity that joins us.  We may have lost that day-to-day contact but our love for each other is still easily found.

No, this isn't about either of those people.  The loss of this particular friendship is confusing and has me befuddled, in a center stage funk.  It's the reason why I'm not sleeping very well, why I've been prone over the past few weeks to fluctuating moods.  You certainly don't need to worry about me, it's nothing at all like that.  But it all just leaves me feeling hurt.  Hurt and sad and tired.  Losing a friend is like having your hormones being thrown back into a time warp machine, back to the roller coaster ride of being thirteen.  High, low, forward, back, friend, gone.

My husband and close friends tell me to accept the parting, to let the bottle that contains the message, "I don't value you anymore" to go over the waves and out to the sea of blue.  After a couple of months of anguishing over the loss, I will take the advice of those people who care for me the most; I will try harder to let go.  I need to look at this through different eyes, to dust off the fairy tale that began so long ago, Once Upon A Time, and to finally allow myself to reach the last page where it says The End.  Close the book gently.  Friendships come and friendships go, but this one; this was a really, really good story.