Lately, I have been thinking about friends and friendship—why we lose some, why we keep some, and why some are closer than others. Friendship in and of itself is fascinating when a person looks at it closely. Something sparks between two unrelated people, and it often creates a lifelong bond. I think there are people who would claim, in some cases, to actually love their friends even more than their lovers or spouses.
When I was younger, I didn’t think much about my friendships. They simply happened. They were the people I grew up with—my neighbors, classmates, fellow church-goers. I am still friends with quite a few of these people, if not close friends, friendly enough to drop a note now and then. Either way, there is a mutual recognition that we are a part of each other’s lives, and we will continue to be.
One of my oldest friendships is with one of my neighbors I grew up with on Byall Avenue. We don’t speak but every four to six months, and we only see each other maybe once or twice a year, and yet, when we do talk, it is just as if no time has passed. We will be old ladies still phoning in now and then—closer than ever in our hearts, yet far in distance and time. I do carry her in my heart; maybe this is why we don’t feel the need to speak very often.
But, I have some friendships that have come and gone. In my early twenties, I could easily drop friends without a second thought or regret. It was easy. You simply stopped talking to them. I made the conscious choice to drop two friends in particular. Of course, I’m sure this was motivated, in part, by my moving away to Iowa. Cutting off friends makes leaving them easier. Or else, I felt that by moving I was finally owning my identity. I don’t know. I can’t say. Now that I am older, I have my regrets.
My motto these days is that “strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet,” and I love having friends from all walks of life and from anywhere I can find someone to return my smile. To me, acquaintances are “friends.” I am generally very open about my life, my experiences, and whatever is on my mind—I don’t know that I have a “close inner circle.” If someone calls me, I pick up the phone. Those people tend to be the ones I get closest to because we see each other more.
I don’t know why we lose some friendships, but we all definitely do. Maybe it’s just a clash of personalities. Maybe you were only really friends because of location and convenience.
I am truly saddened by the loss of friends these days. Even when I know that it is inevitable that someone will drift away, I still miss them in my life. Is this a symptom of getting older—cherishing the lives we touch?
Why can we stay friends with some people and not others? One of my deepest regrets is that I am not friends with the one person I shared my life with for three years. I understand why friendship is tricky in such cases, and I respect it—but that doesn’t make the regret and genuine grief I feel any less.
My life experiences have made me so amazed by the way our lives touch others. We don’t always even think about the way we can change and alter someone else. Maybe it’s a smile in the grocery store checkout, small talk about the weather to a stranger in the long lines at the post office, or a quick “thanks” to a waitress when she brings your drinks. What else are we here for if not to touch each other somehow?
My mother sewed a little saying for my neighbors before they moved away—“some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts.” I think we leave footprints everyday, even in the quick exchanges we make with strangers. I also think of the musical Wicked. My good friend and I used to lyrics to the song on long car drives:
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...
Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good.
I never wanted to move back to Iowa. In fact, I knew it would be a bad idea. I knew that every time I sang those lyrics—jokingly with my friend—that our relationship would not last. That’s why I used to cry at that.
But, I have been touched by so many lives since moving here. I truly love every person I have ever met. For some reason, for me at least, it’s often easier to tell a friend how much I love them than a partner.
As I look back over my life, even the chance meetings—Doris Brinlee stands out. She was an elderly woman traveling with her husband back to Oklahoma City on a plane out of Heathrow. I sat beside her. I was 19. We talked a good deal of the seven hour flight. I was much shier then. She gave me some of the greatest advice of my life. She told me in that soft Oklahoma accent, “Don’t you ever be backwards about being forwards.” I have not forgotten, even 15 years later.
I also remember the nun I met in the Cairo airport who had absent-mindedly packed her glasses and needed help finding her gate. She sat with us for a while. There are so many people whose lives you touch and who touch you. As I get older, I appreciate each and every person I have ever met. And to those friends that I have lost, I would say:
It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
