I Did A Thing

I have a friend I used to speak with regularly, like every week or two. We stayed in touch through good times and bad, sickness and fitness, and all the times in between. We are kindred spirits despite distance and time zones. That was, until this year.

It had not escaped me that there had been radio silence for months. I texted numerous times and even actually called, all to no avail. I wondered and worried, “Why the silence?” Try as I might, and believe me, I tried, absolutely nothing came to mind. Sometimes I was mad; I thought our relationship was important to both of us. Sometimes I was sad; I missed my friend. Most of the time I was puzzled and confused. In all of our 35 year friendship, never had we gone months without speaking.

Finally, I did a thing. I sat down and wrote a letter. I shared my concern and asked for an explanation. I explained I was more than willing to apologize if I had offended, I just needed to know how and what I could do to resolve the issue. It felt good to be taking an active step toward resolution, whether or not I received a response. At least I had quit ruminating.

It was a few weeks before I received a response, but what a response it was. My friend could not have been more apologetic and explained that “absolutely nothing could ever sever our relationship.” She also shared that she and her entire family had been afflicted with Covid, one after the other, but never at the same time. Can you imagine 3 months of continuous Covid? Her mother-in-law has become a long-hauler and a permanent resident in their home. One of her children is making college visits, another will be “lucky if she graduates from high school,” and a third is in therapy for depression. All three kids play sports and have active social lives. It was the proverbial Christmas letter on steroids.

Although I was terribly sorry to hear her life is currently a “shitshow” (her words not mine), I was unbelievably relieved to learn it wasn’t me or anything I had done that created the chasm. I was reminded that sometimes life gets in the way and no one is at fault. Sometimes it’s just too hard to tell one more person the same sad story, and sometimes silence is all that’s left. I can relate.

The lessons for me in all of this were monumental. The amount of time I spent wondering, worrying, hypothesizing, and second-guessing was significant, and to no avail. When I sent the letter, I knew there was a chance I would not get a reply, and that was okay. At least I had stopped the mental anguish and taken action – the only things I could control.