Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to say goodbye

What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies. - Aristotle

I once had a friend that I thought fit this quote, that together or apart we had become the same soul unified in our friendship. Then one day the friendship disappeared as if it had never existed. I have struggled with walking away for the longest time because some part of me believed it impossible for one to leave a friendship, a person you loved and cared for, behind. That being said, I have come realize that it does not matter what I believe because what is in someones heart cannot be known to anyone else.

It is a strange thing, growing older and apart. The bonds that once carried us through the days of our trying youth become broken and shattered. Ours was a friendship that had been tested over and over again. Days, weeks, months, and even years would go by without words between us, but somehow there was always this certain knowledge, this feeling, that if we ever needed one another, for any reason, we would find away to be there for the other, that comfort of an old friend.
There were times when I walked away, needing space, needing to "grow up," but I always thought of him on my path through life, his eyes and voice echoing through my mind. Eventually I would find my way back to him, or he to me, and I would be so happy that we were together once again. Then one day the feeling left me, the one that told me he would be there for me, it just disappeared. It was as if he had died. Without warning, without words, he went silent.

I told myself something must have happened to him. Maybe he had fallen ill? Maybe someone in his family had? Maybe he was in an accident? Repeated attempts to contact him went unanswered. I finally gave up, praying for him that he was okay and not harmed. Then one day, years later and under strangely coincidental circumstances, I found him again. He was in fact, alive and well. I was so excited, but so confused. "What had happened? Why had he left without saying goodbye?" I soon contacted him again, believing that his heart had not gone cold, and he would be happy to hear from me.
What I expected, a joyous reunion of two friends with many stories to share, did not take place. Days, weeks, months went by and still the silence continued. Going over things in my mind, I could not understand what I may have done to be treated so coldly. I finally did receive my answer, "I am not the person you knew." Essentially that was it. How does one change so drastically? "How is it possible" I thought to myself, "to once love someone and then treat them as if they never existed, as if they are meaningless? How does one do that?"

After the initial shock wave, I began to try and see the person I had put on a pedestal as the person he has become, and not the one I once knew. Life can change you. Life can and will if you let it. I believe very much that the core of who I am, that child in her tou-tou, the girl hiding behind her books or riding her bike really fast down a hill, and the teenager driving down the street with her music really loud is still very much who I am. I have grow up, but I have not let life change me. I am not ashamed of my youth, of my time growing and searching for who I would become, but relish in it for it is all part of the puzzle that is me. To ignore someone that was a part of that, would in essence be ignoring that part of me.

The one thing I know about him is that he views himself very highly, very moral, and that to have known me, to have loved me once, produces a black cloud over his desire for perfection. He sees himself on a quest to be "perfected" in all ways. I realize now how deep this desire really goes. In doing so, he has created a cell for himself, removed from the world around him. Maybe this gives him peace, solace. Maybe it prevents him from making any "mistakes" that might prevent this task of perfection from taking place. Even he views himself as prisoner, but somehow I think he also views this as some sort of martyrdom, as a sacrificial lamb. As he has become this person, he has built a wall in order to distance himself from me, from us, from our past, and our friendship.

On reflection, I think I always knew this about him, this capacity within him. When once our friendship began to become something more, I knew I had to put an end to it (although I admit I did it poorly, but I was only 17) because I knew I could never walk with him on that path, I could never be that person who would seek out the life that he now lives. I knew, even at 17, that to do so would be certain death to my God-given spirit and to all the things about me that he, in fact, loved. After the bruises began to heal, I attempted to try and salvage our friendship, and over time I believed that we had moved forward, reclaiming who we had been to each other.

But here I am once again writing about this loss in my life. The never ending, continual death of a person that for a time meant more to me than anyone else in the world and the friendship we once shared. But this time, for the first time, I can see that it is not because of anything I did, or the person that I am as that has always remained constant. No, as hard as it has been for me to see, it was and is his choice, and his alone. What more can one do? Nothing. There is no place to go from here. The end of the road with him is clearly lined before me. I stand at the edge, looking out, calling his name, but all I see are dark, grey clouds, and a silence that is piercing.

I find myself changing direction in the desire to be free, to be where I am wanted and needed, no longer trying to find a way to show someone what they have lost when they no longer care that it is gone. It is time to leave some things behind. It is heart breaking and gut wrenching, for sometimes the hardest thing to do is to say goodbye.