It started as a simple argument. He's always teasing me about being on my cell phone when he's with me, even playfully threatening to take it away. I can't say I really blame him, as most of the time, like the rest of the world, I'm glued to the damned thing. I didn't truly realize how irritating it can be until we were at the bookstore one day, and he was following me around, face glued to the 5 inch screen, laughing at some private joke I really didn't want to know. I didn't react well, to put it lightly, and told him to go find somewhere to sit, rather than following me around and ignoring me. I know I sound like a shrew, but I could tell he was reluctant to come with me to the bookstore to begin with, and now purposely ignoring me was beginning to grate on my nerves.
He reacted in a way that I didn't expect at all: He turned around and walked out of the store. What the hell? I had no idea that a phone could turn into such an argument, but it did. I drove him back to his car, and we've not spoken a complete sentence to one another since. I don't know what the mindset is. Am I a threat to his impending happiness? Why the long silence? He's supposed to be my best friend, and I can't get him to talk to me.
Today, it dawned on me. I'm losing him.
Grief ensues.
I suddenly don't have a place in his life. While he is occupied elsewhere, I'm wondering how to move on from this. I've known him since I was 19. He's my mentor, my comedic relief (although I'm not sure he knows that, since most days I roll my eyes at his attempts at humor), a safe place to land because I don't have to explain. He already knows, in a way that only comes with time. How do you replace a friendship like that?
Saturday is our traditional day to hang out. I don't think I will be seeing him this week, and it won't be my doing. So what am I going to do with my Saturday afternoon? Yoga.
Grieving is a process, a 12 step program of sorts, that requires a lot of attention to detail in order to be completed. I'm only on my first stage: I'm trying to accept the fact that things are changing, and that I have to change with them. With that will come a pan full of brownies, a lot of sitting and thinking, probably some crying on James (my stuffed cat with the bandaged tail I've had since I was 3). Looking at old pictures and letters and trying to understand what I'm feeling a loss about, and how to repair myself as I move forward from here. I no longer have my mentor, so I have to become my own mentor, right? Yes and no.
I can find someone to talk to.
Lots of standing, stretching, walking, running, moving.
Let myself wander that dark recess alone, finding light and moving towards it when I'm ready.
Spend time in nature.
Write and cry. A lot if I have to. I'll stop crying when I'm ready, right?
Don't shut myself in. Make some new connections.
The process will continue, and as I need to, I will write. As I write, maybe I will begin to understand. With understanding comes healing. I may not be whole without him in my life for a long time, but that's okay. I can be.
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