Ten years ago, I crossed paths with a remarkable woman named Sarah. Initially, I had my doubts about her; her quirks were hard to overlook. At just 18, she had moved across the country to be with a boyfriend she had never met face-to-face, having only known him online for several years. I only met him twice over the course of seven years.
Sarah was a passionate vegan and considered herself a self-taught expert on feminism and human sexuality. Her sharp wit could be disarming, yet she was endlessly kind and always looked out for others. We quickly became close friends; I helped her secure a job at my workplace in eldercare. She made quite the impression on everyone when she bravely highlighted the sexual abuses faced by undocumented women in the care of our senior center.
I cherished her friendship deeply—she was one of my closest confidantes. She stood by me during my wedding, assisted me with moving furniture, and even posed for my artwork. However, I can’t say I was the best friend to her. During those years, I was often caught up in my own struggles and perhaps didn’t recognize how much she needed from me. She was so generous with her time and support that it became easy for me to lean on her.
She was there for me through numerous life events, from moving in with my boyfriend to supporting me during his chemotherapy. She even helped me prepare for my wedding and move again when I was six months pregnant with twins.
Then came a day that changed everything. I called her to congratulate her on her engagement, but she was not in the mood to talk. In fact, she was furious with me and had a long list of grievances. Some of the accusations were baffling—she claimed I had spoken ill of her fiancé, accused me of stealing a DVD, and said she despised a portrait I had painted of her.
Listening to her grievances felt like a punch in the gut. I apologized profusely, unsure of how to mend things. When I asked what I could do to make amends, she simply stated that I should never reach out to her again. I complied, but it was devastating. Every moment of that separation was painful, especially as I watched her seemingly thrive while I was left in silence.
For the most part, I’ve stuck to my promise of not contacting her. However, when her new husband sent me a friend request, I accepted, and even four years later, I find myself checking in on her occasionally.
In today’s digital age, it’s remarkably easy to keep tabs on people. With mutual friends and social media, a quick search can reveal a lot about someone’s life. It’s tempting to want to reach out, especially when I see her name associated with exciting career achievements. I wish I could tell her how happy I am for her and how proud I am of what she’s accomplished since we last spoke.
Social media allows us to stay updated on everything—from friends welcoming new babies to those getting new jobs or even having amazing meals at restaurants we want to try. But it also makes it easier to feel a sense of loss for connections that have faded. I miss her, and seeing her life from afar makes it harder to let go. I keep hoping that one day she might remember me, too, and that she’d click “like” on something I post, signaling that a part of our friendship still exists.
Four years later, the ache remains. I still wish I could reach out to tell her how happy I am that she’s found joy in life. She was a great friend, and regardless of what transpired between us, I’ll always be here if she ever decides she wants to reconnect.
Resources for Others Navigating Similar Situations
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In summary, the journey of friendship can be complex and filled with unexpected turns. The lingering feelings of loss and hope can coexist, reminding us of the deep connections we once cherished.