A couple of months ago, I lost an old friend—estranged, yet
never truly forgotten. He passed away in his sleep, and as I grappled with the
weight of grief, I found solace in the quiet, peaceful way he left this world.
Once again, I wished for the same gentle departure when my time came.
Though we had barely spoken in over 15 years, there was a
time, some 40 years ago, when we were inseparable, bound by shared dreams, deep
conversations, and a connection that felt unbreakable. But life, as it often
does, unfolded in unexpected ways. A decade later, certain events forced me to
pause, to reassess our friendship, and the painful realization that it had
morphed into something unrecognizable hit me with startling force.
His passing sent me spiralling back through time, tracing
the arc of our friendship across decades. As I revisited those memories, I
reaffirmed what I had painfully concluded 15 years ago - it wasn’t just our
relationship that had changed; he had changed into someone I no longer
knew or liked. And so, quietly, without ceremony, I had let go of one of the
deepest friendships of my life.
Yet that loss didn’t remain contained within just him. It
cast a long shadow, affecting future friendships and even coloring old ones,
leaving behind an imprint I struggled to erase. For years, I wrestled with it,
trying to make sense of how something so significant had unravelled…but
understanding always remained elusive, just out of reach.
And still, somewhere deep within me, I held on to the hope
that one day we would find our way back to each other. That we would sit
together again, hearts open, minds unguarded… that he would offer an
explanation, one that would finally quiet the storm within me, allowing my mind
to let the matter rest. And that, against all odds, we would start anew… just
as we had 40 years ago, as two stubborn, idealistic twenty-somethings.
But now, I know that day will never come. And in that
realization, I find myself struggling with immense grief … not entirely sure if
I am mourning him or mourning the loss of the chance for closure. He had
not truly been part of my world for years, so his absence is not something I feel
in the conventional sense… and yet, I feel it. What unsettles me most is that I
am not grieving his sudden absence as much as I am grappling with the finality
of something that had already slipped away long ago. And now, with the door
permanently closed, my mind is struggling to make sense of it.
Grief, I have come to learn, is difficult to untangle when
you are mourning not just the person, but the possibility that once existed … the
hope for reconciliation, for answers, for a resolution that will now never
come. I’ve combed through every connected thought, every memory, searching for
clarity. But sadly, the painful moments seem to overshadow the good ones,
making it even harder to understand why I am grieving at all.
I now recognize that what I need is closure, and the
realization that I will never get it is stirring an unrest I cannot quiet. But
perhaps closure is not something that must come from answers or conversations …
perhaps, it is something I must create within myself.
Maybe the path to peace lies in shifting the focus from what
is unresolved to what was once meaningful… To stop searching for explanations
and instead honor the warmth that once existed… To accept that some stories end
without epilogues... To acknowledge not just the loss of the person, but the
loss of the relationship, the unanswered questions, and the dreams of a
different ending.
