In grade five, I moved for the first time. My best friend and I cried. We exchanged addresses and promised to write. We exchanged numbers and promised to call.
I spoke to her once since then. Years later (2007), I looked her up on facebook and we caught up. We never went back to being best friends. I check in on her life through photos, but we lack the desire to stay in touch.
When I was in grade nine, I had another best friend. We immediately clicked. We disliked everyone, watched the same reruns, and had similar goals.
Within two years, she made different friends, and I don’t really remember specifics. I was probably unhappy sharing my best friend, and we stopped speaking. I deleted her from social media, because I burn my bridges like a job.
Anyway, I’ve since seen her at my previous job, but I’ve changed and I treated her like any other customer: with a smile. I conveniently covered my name tag just in case she recognized me. I had (have) zero desire to rekindle a friendship.
These are examples of the first times I felt loss. I felt disconnected. I only tried to keep in touch with my neighbor, but even that proved futile. Sometimes you realize you’re only friends with people because you see them every day.
Since then, I’ve had many people enter and leave my life—more than I care to count.
Few people have ever stung when they left, though. I can count them on one hand (and a plethora of wasted wishes).
My struggle has always been with fate—with timing.
My pastor said that hindsight is 20/20. You can’t see what you’re learning until you’re past it. Sometimes not until you’re way past it.
There’s only been one friend that I ever missed. I’ll never forget how angry I felt when the friendship imploded. “We were supposed to be friends forever.”
How childish, right?
Long story short, she’s in my life now, and I’m thankful.
All of my friendships have been replaced by different people. I wrote about this concept before, and everyone that meant something to me then (save for one) is still in my life.
I have a small addition to my list, but they are deeply respected, and I’m thankful for them.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I shouldn’t focus so hard on things I can’t control. I can’t control what mistakes someone else will make. I can’t control whether someone will decide to enter or leave my life.
I grip so hard when I care. It’s taken me so long to figure out what I want, so when I feel like something is jeopardizing that, I grip harder.
There’s this quote I read, though (I love words), and it said something about the harder you hold on to something, the quicker it slips through your hands—like sand.
For example, my loving dog loves me. Mogli loves wrapping himself around me. He loves curling up at my neck. He loves falling asleep in my arms or across my stomach.
He loves doing it of his own accord.
There are times when I just want to hug him, though. I pull him closer, and he pulls away. No matter how hard I try, he doesn’t want to be held.
Similarly, I can’t hold on to something that doesn’t want to be held. I learned this over ten years ago.
My point is: the things that are meant to be in my life will find a way.
I should trust the timing of my life.
There’s almost a guarantee that what I currently want, I’ll never have. There’s also a guarantee that what I’ll someday have will be infinitely better for me than anything I can fathom now (provided I keep working hard).
While a part of me laments over the things I can’t have, another part of me rejoices.
The people I’ve replaced so far—people I thought (at the time) were okay people (yes, not great, just good enough) were replaced by amazing people.
I could list the people who matter to me most and they would knock anyone pre 2009 out of the park (save for one I met in 04—she’s in the list). The people pre 2009 don’t even exist anymore.
I may not always trust why things happen, but I do trust the timing of my life. I trust karma. I trust the universe. I trust God.
And I trust people.
I think you get what you put in, and it’s not right away, and it’s not always from the person you do it for, but you get back what you put in tenfold.
I just hope everyone realizes this, and lives their lives accordingly.
I would hate to hear bad news about someone that once mattered because of poor character or choices.