So, I had a little bit of a scare over the last two days. My great friend sent me a text that said "This might be the Vicadin talking, but I kinda want to have a pillow fight with you" At first, I really dismissed it. The next day, I read something else involving Vicadin again and I started to worry. I immediately started thinking that his move to PA was just too much for him and his looking for solace in all the wrong places. I was prepared to tell him, "Friend... Find the direction of the nearest border and RUN! RUN for your life as PA is clearly swallowing you whole (and for men our size, that's certainly not an easy task). Lucky, it turned out to be nothing nearly as serious and when I finally spoke to him, I scolded him for not telling me he was on it and his punishment would be that he'd have to spend a weekend with the boys starting this Friday. So in the end, it worked out for everyone.
It worried me that I thought he was doing something so stupid and he didn't alert me. Everyone knows I make sure he's aware of every stupid adventure I attempt... I mean, someone's gonna have to back me up, right?
I always considered myself (for what it's worth) a considerate friend if not a good friend. I'm always trying to get everyone together and actively try to keep our group together even after 12 years have passed since it formed. I try involve everyone, make sure we are all aware of what everyone's up to (the public stuff) These are things I think about. Things that drive my day. Making sure that the family I created for myself remains as constant as possible for the rest of my life.
You see, when my parents came to the United States, they didn't come with a lot of family. In fact, they didn't come with ANY family. A cousin of mine and his mother and father were a part of our lives for a little bit, but that's really it. The only connection I've had to blood relatives I've had were our bi-yearly trips to India in my youth and arguably the 2nd best year of my life, 2004 when I spent the entire year in India, living amongst my family. With the lack of family surrounding me, I tend to see my friends as my chosen family, and in most instances where emotions are concerned, I really do consider them my family.
So, losing someone that I would consider that good a friend and lowering them from that status is not a decision I come to lightly. Especially with the women in my life. Since becoming an adult and really establishing those I care about, I would say my friendship attrition rate has been absolutely admirable. Losing friends is just not something I do. In fact, I feel as though the troubles we've all been in has done nothing short of brought us closer. And don't get it twisted, keeping REAL good friends at THIS age is difficult. Life just gets in the way too often. You are relegated to text messages and scheduled outings as opposed to the 6:00pm call you would get when you were 21 that went something like, "Dude, I am so hungover from last night, we definitely need to get drunk so I can get rid of this headache... You're driving." And, BOOM! When you're 31, that phone call has to come about 3 weeks in advance MINIMUM if you want more people involved and festivities end 3-4 hours shorter than you're used to. And throwing up at the end of the night is NOT a good thing.
But I digress. So, it's a fight to keep good friends and I pride myself on my record. And since my friend are so close and I'm not really accustomed to losing them, when I actually DO lose one, I feel absolutely devastated. Unfortunately, despite much effort on my part, the last two years I've had to detach my heart strings from two of my favorite friends. Friends that I've had for quite some time (double digits each) and both whom I sincerely loved like they were my own family. One of them.... One of them draws tears from my eyes as I speak. She was the Abbott to my Costello. The Wetteland to my Mariano. I haven't had a meaningful conversation with this person in probably over a year and I can't think of a day that goes by that I don't think of her. Both of them really. The other one basically shaped who I would be as an adult when she met me. She introduced me to music. My god. I just realized that. For how many times some silly song felt like it saved my life, it was at least a little thanks to her. They've taught me so much about life, showed me so much of myself, and helped make me so comfortable in my own skin, I HATE that we just simply grew apart. It would be so much easier to accept if there were some massive, existential fight and that was it. But that simply just was not the case. And for the love of Jeebus, I tried. I swear to you, I tried hard, and I tried for a long time. Ask my wife. I tried so hard over the years to keep our friendship at an acceptable level, but unfortunately, it certainly takes two to tango. There are only a certain number of times that even my massive ego can take an unreturned phone call, an ignored text, or even the lowly dismissed FB post. At some point, I have to cut my losses and drop the dead weight and I hate it.
You know what, I thought that if I wrote about it, it would make me feel better, but it doesn't. It feels awful. I draw so much strength from the people I love that it's felt like a part of me has been missing. But I trudge on. I cherish the friendships I have been able to maintain and keep going forward. It's all I can do. It's all any of us can do. I really had much more to say about this, but my heart hurts and I must stop.
Thank you for everything you are to me, even if you aren't there for me to be it.
