When she called me to say she was leaving – tomorrow – and didn’t know when she’d be back, I honestly never begrudged her. I knew it was good and right for her, to do this thing, and my initial response was surprisingly magnanimous, something like being deeply and selflessly happy for her.
But god, it did suck for me.
In a short time, she’d become my constant; my link between there and here, my sanity amidst insanity. We just got lucky – as I told her over coffee when she came back to visit – lucky that our paths overlapped for that sliver in time when we were both lost and faltering and needing someone. And when she suddenly wasn’t there anymore, some small section in me shut down.
She came to town and we set up a time to meet and for days I looked forward to the sweet relief of reunion with a kindred soul. It was both glorious and disappointing.
Disappointing because I felt like I hate to feel: pitiable and lonely and in perpetual limbo. I felt left behind in the face of her update. But her report was indeed glorious. It was full of health and hope and the success of making the right decisions day after day; of courageously opening her life to the touch of others.
I could see something different in her – a sense of peace, of contentment – and I was proud and grateful and happy. I found myself wondering if she could see anything different about me. But I know that she couldn’t, because the truth is that nothing is different, and that when she asked me why I’ve become so isolated, I should have said, “Because I’m not as strong as you”.
But my turn is coming, and one day soon I’ll have a report as hopeful as hers. And in the meantime I’ll celebrate with her the victory of taking a step, and sticking it out, and coming out on the other side a shade closer to the divinity we were made for.
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