Eulogy for a living friend

in which I mourn the loss of a friend who is still alive

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I’ve been wanting to write a piece about the pain of losing a friend who is still alive. Their disappearance was unceremonious; there was no argument, no exchanging of harsh words. I am confident that I understand some of the things going on in their life that led to this happening, but I doubt I have the full picture. And despite my brain’s insistence that I can somehow understand and fix every problem if I just try hard enough, there are some times like this that I cannot.

Someone once told me that our brains handle the disappearance of a friend in our life in a way similar to if they had died. (But in some ways it also feels harder since there’s that sliver of a chance that I could actually talk to them again one day). It hit me tonight that perhaps I should try to mourn it as such. I have at least 3 notepad pages filled with attempts at writing about how it feels to have lost them. I have a most of a post sitting in my substack drafts. Yet all of that fell short and felt somehow wrong despite being so deeply raw. Maybe there are no words sufficient to describe my thoughts and feelings over the last couple years since I last heard from them. My attempts at writing something that might encourage someone else who’s experienced something similar similarly felt inadequate.

Instead, I am writing an “obituary” of sorts. The kinds of thing I imagine I’d say if I was suddenly invited to their funeral tomorrow.

I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends,
Soft as it began,—
I loved my friend.

-Langston Hughes

To M.S.

I still think of you every time I photograph a sunset, or see a picture of Jupiter, or hear someone from the midwest say “bag.” I still remember your coffee oder (a vanilla latte), how you loved grapes but always felt overstimulated buying the in the grocery store. I still feel close to you when I wear the t-shirt we both got that says “I Contracted Legionnaires Disease By Drinking The Condensation From My AC Unit And All I Got Was A 10,000 Hospital Bill.” Or see any reference to Dave Matthews Band. Or a nice circle. Every time I flatten my sheets out I still treat it like a prayer that yours will be free of wrinkles. Sometimes pictures of Jupiter make me cry, partly because they remind me of our very first conversation.

Of all of my friends, you were perhaps the one I felt the safest around. I never once felt judged. You convinced me, for the first time in a very very long time, that it was ok to be myself. That someone would love me even if I was confused and trying to find myself again. You always sent encouraging voice messages when I was sad on your way to work at 5:30am, and waking up and hearing your voice saved many awful days. I’m not sure anybody has laughed at my borderline insane sense of humor as hard as you. Above all, I truly cannot imagine where I’d be without the years that we had together. You showed up at one of the darkest times of my life, and stayed long enough to see me through it. I can only hope that you felt even a small fraction of the kindness in return. That you could see how unique and beautiful you were.

I have no doubt that you meant it every time you said “I love you.” And I hope you believed it when I did too. Because it was true, and always will be. You once said that even on days where you were too busy or didn’t respond that you would still think of me often during the day. Despite how long it’s been since I last texted you, I still think of you often, too.

None of these scattered words come even close to expressing how much you meant to me. But I think you might understand if you could somehow read them, and that’s all that matters.

💜🤸‍♀️