Moving Forward After My Best Friend of 17 Years Stopped Talking To Me
From our childhood adventures, to growing up together, to becoming strangers
Today, it feels final that I lost my best friend.
For some time in the past, I had a feeling this day would come. Today, I allow myself to feel sad, to grieve over someone that was once a part of me. But only for a moment and never beyond the words I will share with you, dear reader.
Despite having loved her, I am making a choice to not remain in the same place where she left me. So today, I am spending my last moments with a friend through memories and words. These memories I leave behind will never lose its beauty and I will not empty myself of them because what we had was special, I am simply moving on. As I move forward, I intend to grow without resentment and regret.
Today, I lost someone but I remain full.
The other day, I saw my childhood photo album nestled in my mother’s bookshelf. As I browsed through its pages, I stopped at this photo of me hugging my best friend. I placed my hand on the edge of the photograph, and I let myself become transported to what was once a beautiful time in our friendship. It all seemed so distant despite knowing her familiar face for more than half of my life. It was a face I grew up with; a smile that can light up a town with those deep, charming dimples that reminded me of the gentle slopes of sand dunes. I remember coming to her house like it was an extension of ours and her bedroom also became my refuge. I remember the pastel pink wallpaper, the bunk bed, the heavy comforters, and the mess of it all. I remember her hearty laughter and the warmth of her cheek next to mine whenever she comes in for a hug. I remember it all, and I also remember the days when it all started falling apart.
I guess we grew up, but our friendship didn’t. It was like a slow-burn realization followed by a long period of denial. As time passed by, we talked to each other less and less until her voice no longer felt like home, and her face no longer held the same happiness upon seeing me, and her touch no longer felt warm, and everything else changed until all that was left was the shadow of what she used to be. The calls stopped coming; no more “can I come over?” messages, weekend hang-outs, and late-night talks over pizza. Just like that, we saw each other less until we didn’t feel the need to see each other again. It’s crazy how someone so familiar can turn to a stranger, how a person can represent both your past and present.
Neither of us realized our friendship was dwindling with time. It happened so naturally like changing seasons, it never occurred to us we were slowly losing each other. Over time, we became used to not seeing each other until the space between us became bigger and bigger. And so, when we did meet, it felt like there were mountains between us, and what once felt like a face reflecting my own, looked distant and opaque.
That was our problem—we became complacent of each other, of the familiarity and sameness that our friendship didn’t grow with us. By the time I started holding on more strongly to memories than what we have in the present, I began to realize that there was a rift I could no longer bridge. She looked happier and more content with her new friends. Strangely, seeing her with them felt right. Then eventually, I got tired of trying. I realized that moving forward held more hope. That’s what I did.
Here’s the thing. Nothing in life can ever remain the same, no matter how hard we try, the nature of life is anchored by change. So that is why great friendships are not measured by duration nor continuity, but by how it grows, how it becomes stronger through time, and how well it adapts through the ever-flowing tides of change. Like me, I was relentless in holding on to someone because I didn’t want to waste the years of friendship we had. But I was wrong to insist on continuity from someone who didn’t feel the same. It is wrong to try to prolong a moment that is dying to move on. In any relationship, growth must be present and mutual, one cannot grow while the other is stuck in a different time.
So, I realized that it is not continuity that we should strive for, but growth and resilience during times of change. It’s like the ocean, it’s beautiful to look at when the waters are calm; but during high tide and when the waves are turbulent, we become afraid and wary. It is natural to feel this way; fear is a response to uncertainty and change, but then again, it is impossible to only love someone when it is convenient or only when there’s stillness. It is not about wishing for the waters to always be calm, but it is about working to have the strength for the times when it’s not. It’s preparing for change, that’s what it is. My friendship failed because we envisioned an impossibility of staying the same, but is impossible to feel the same way about someone as time goes by and this is something explained by one of my favorite writers, Anne Morrow Lindbergh in Gift from the Sea:
…the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity—in freedom. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now.
There are different ways of dealing with loss, though grief is an inherent part, what comes after could either be forward or falling back. And when you do experience this, like me, I hope you choose to move forward.
