I have been thinking a lot about beginnings and endings.

You see, several months ago a friendship ended. Abruptly. A friend I thought would always be there. I made a huge mistake and there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing. My mistake? Not understanding how much this friend meant to me until it was too late.

Let me back up a bit.

I put my kids to bed, I think it was a Friday night, and all was right with my world. The boys had just completed a swim meet, I was about to go on a much-needed vacation, and things were so good that night. I remember snuggling into my bed and turning on TV to relax since my husband was at work. It was normal and good.

The next morning, the kids came in asking for breakfast and we all started to get moving. I lay in my bed and opened my phone to Facebook. Looking back at me was my friends face…with the words, “We will miss you so much, rest in peace.” I think I yelled….”No, no, no….what is this? Why would someone say this?” Just typing this makes tears spring to my eyes- it still feels so raw. I sat straight up and started yelling at my husband like he could make these people stop posting that my friend was dead. He just looked at me shocked and said, “I am so sorry…I thought you knew… there was an email that came through last night.” At first I was mad that he didn’t say something to me when he came home from work. Then…I realized that he had unknowingly given me one more night where someone who truly loved the real me existed in this world.

This friend loved me for who I am and not who he wanted me to be. He loved me with my flaws and my scars. He met me where I was at and he stayed there with me. He saw my good, my bad, and my ugly. And he loved me just the same. And he was gone.

Let me back up even more.

We met in college. He was older than me by several years. I don’t remember when we first met. He was working security and I was on summer staff. Our friendship just kind of grew fast and before I knew it we could laugh about everything and tell each other everything. I was so blessed. He had some medical issues and I didn’t pry. I knew his best friend had given him a kidney, but that’s all I knew. I don’t remember the time line. I just know that suddenly he had to have surgery for something and I was going to go and see him at the hospital. I can’t even remember how I got there or whom I was with. I do remember hearing the doctor say, “It’s malignant.” I remember feeling my legs go weak. I remember him being more concerned about me hearing the news than him getting the news (isn’t that just like him). I drove him to his chemo appointments when I could. He always pretended it was no big deal. Always shielding me from all of it. I do, however, remember the phone call. “My hair is falling out.” And me saying “Bring the razor, I’m on my way!”

I don’t remember him as sick. I remember him laughing. I remember a fight we had once. I remember him letting me cry over lost loves and buying me diet coke and croissants to heal my pain. I remember long nights on Capital Hill at Twice Sold Tales with the bubble machine. Always hunting for the perfect children’s book. I cry as I type this, because I would give anything for five more minutes. That’s all I want. Five more minutes.

He moved back to MN the summer before my senior year. We sent post cards back and forth. (This was before Facebook and there was limited email). We chatted on the phone. Then, as it happens, we lost contact for a bit when I moved after college. When the internet started to become a more popular “thing” I was able to track him down by photographs he had taken and I contacted him. We emailed. And then, Facebook.

It’s strange now that I look back. A chat here or there, a “like” on a picture…a comment. I never felt like he wasn’t there. I’m sure he felt different. I know when you get married and have kids that you don’t always have time to keep up with everyone. (He was not married so the excuse is mine). But he was one of those friends that time and distance didn’t matter so I never worried. And he didn’t tell me. He didn’t tell me he was sick. I didn’t know. How could I know? I didn’t even ask how he was the last time he messaged me. I was so caught up in my own life and my stupid assumption we would catch up one day soon. That day isn’t going to happen.

Back to the day after he died. (He died. I still have to tell myself he isn’t here.)

I have had a post card from him stuck to the cover of my Bible for the last eighteen years. It was the one he left on the wall of my door room before he left. I suddenly felt the urge to read it again. I went to my room and took my Bible out of its case and the card wasn’t there. I tore the house apart trying to find it. I finally gave up and went out to our shed and dug out a box from college. I brought it up to the house and opened it. I felt like I had found buried treasure. There in the box were post cards with words from my friend describing our friendship. It was exactly what I needed.

This friend was one of the first people in my life that I knew truly loved me for who I was. These are the friends we cherish, the ones we hold on to, the ones we mourn for the rest of our lives. 

Every beginning and ending has a new opportunity. Opportunities to change our outlook, our behavior, or even our heart. This ending was hard, but it opened my heart up to remembering the importance of true friendship. You see, we live in a world filled with egos, despair, anger, hate, violence, and “in your face” attitudes. It’s dark if you let it be. If I learned anything from this friend, I learned to look for the good in people and to love them flaws and all even when they make it difficult to be loved.

I miss you my friend.