Since the day I said a final goodbye to my best friend of eight years, there's been plenty of light, plenty of goodness, plenty of joy and reasons to be grateful. At times, however, I feel as though there's always an emptiness accompanying me through it, rather than the precious soul that- many, but not so many years ago- I once thought would be there to witness much of it with me.
In fact, the happier the occasion, the deeper my regret that I do not have her around to share it with. More so because much of our actual friendship was tumultuous. It took place during a painful and difficult time in my life, and while she was a great support through most of it that meant she missed out on the better parts of me that I had to offer once the tough stuff was put behind me.
She'll forever know me as the troubled young girl she once likely tried so hard to understand.
I'll forever wonder if she ever found her own happy ending, and I'll forever wish that I could have been there to see it unfold.
It's been a long process, working through the grief, and I'm guest-posting about my experience today as part of Kathy Glow's Grief Stories series on kissing the frog.
If you've ever lost a dear friend of your own to misunderstandings, life changes, or circumstance, I imagine that my story will sound quite familiar. Please stop by and give it a read.