Have you ever lost someone who knows you inside out? Who’s been with you for so long, that their absence is an anomaly in your reality and your days become an abnormality, where you start to painfully realize that there is absolutely nothing more to salvage from a friendship that once was so sublime
If you were to ask me all of those questions a year ago, I would have said a definitive “no”, nor would I have thought that it was at all possible. I’ve been friends with this person for 10 years. A decade; more than half of my life. We have our stories, both of laughter and sorrow; memories so precious they became irreplaceable, woven into our very souls: They had become a part of us.
But maybe that was, in itself, the problem. The error and the fault in our brotherhood. Memories were all we had; nothing more. We diverted our eyes and attention to what we had and not what we were. Alas, we lost ourselves and ultimately each other. We parted ways in silence, with nothing to be said. Our roads parted in a manner so sudden and out of the blue. Before we knew it, we drifted so far off we could barely see eye to eye. Between us was not anymore, a distance of warmth and kinship, but a barren solitary void, cold and far.
Thing is, when you lose someone like this, it’s like losing a limb. An absence of something you’ve gotten used to so much, that you just can’t miss out on it, regardless of time’s current. You hope and wish for a rewind, but you’re not sure if you could stand the pain of repeating that loss. You wonder if you could have done better, but guilt is a haunting ghost that wouldn’t leave. Any effort turns futile and regret remains empty.
On the same road, we used to walk on, I turn my head around constantly and expectantly, hoping to find you there once more. Old friend, if you are out there reading this, I hope that our roads come together in a crossing, and I’ll greet you again with joy.
Until then, I’ll wait.