Should we throw friendship funerals?

Touch by Kesia Finley

This post in itself was a long time coming but I was spurred to share having read this article by Jennifer Senior in the Atlantic this week.

I lost a lifelong friendship recently. I am not going to get into the details of what happened or the fall out of this friendship for the sake of her privacy and mine. I want to just let it be said that the friendship died. It felt like a very real death to me although obviously metaphorical. I don’t wish to be insensitive here by comparing this to a true, horrific loss of life. But really, what other word is there for when you have someone in your life every day and now they are forever gone? So please forgive me as I walk through what felt like a death to me.

Like many friendships, the pandemic brought a lot of things to light. Time apart and different life struggles bubbled things to the surface. The friendship ended very tumultuously and for that I will always have regrets. And for the past 18 months, I have tried to come to terms with the loss of this person in my life. And it feels like a death. She is still alive and well but we have no overlaps in social circles or really anything at this point so she is gone to me. The pain of that loss was immense. I thought of little else for weeks into months. I eventually sought therapy to sort through my ever mounting daily life anxiety but also to work through this pain.

For months, I rehashed our arguments in my head. I said the things I wish I had. I took notes of the extra hurtful things I heard. I smacked my face at the way I worded my responses. I needed to relive those moments and all the ones before them to understand that that friendship and it’s ending had become two separate entities. Memories of our time together are in my core memories. To revist my own losses, I see her by my side. To think of sweet memories of my family, she’s there. Birthday parties. Our weddings. It’s all there. And i don’t want to lose those memories. But I needed to get to a point where I could see her in my life moments and not have that burn spread to the rest of the memory. And I needed to realize that the friendship had so many wonderful moments of its own and those memories didn’t need to be abandoned.

One of the things that I think has helped me the most through this loss was writing a goodbye letter to her. I did not mail the letter. I’m not a monster, okurrr. But it was insanely helpful for me to take some control of the situation. I’ll link here what is closest to the framework I used. I wanted to put into words why I was letting the friendship go. What I was going to cherish from our friendship. What I wish she knew. It brought me closure in a way I never imagined. I had been dreaming of her, thinking of her all day, thinking I saw her at the grocery store. By putting all of that into words, I was able to say goodbye in my own way. And take control of a situation I felt I had zero control in. Over time, the pain of that loss has dulled. I am not yet at a point where I can laugh at an old memory but they don’t hurt as much to toy around with.

So perhaps it is not a true death. But it was a death of an era. And through all this time, I know I want the door to stay closed. Writing that letter was the funeral I needed for a lifetime of moments with someone. Perhaps divorce is a better euphemism for all of this. Perhaps all of this drama is a learning experience and I just needed to be ok with a friendship ending. Friendship is this choice that we choose to make every day. And when it ends, we’re expected to just move on, not take a sick day. I took my sick days. I sat in the grief. I moved through my sadness, self blame and anger. I’m somewhere towards the end of those steps of grief but randomly take the elevator back down.

What have I learned from all of this? Well, that I am first in my life. This is not selfishness. It is fact. If I am not well, I cannot be expected to help care for anyone. I find myself in that caregiver role a lot in friendships and reciprocity is not always there. Those shoes fit me well so it is not the fault of the friend. But I have learned that my boundaries are not just an idea but an actual thing I must build and continue to build every single day to take care of myself. When those boundaries are ignored or gaslit, the idea that friendship is a choice has become a billboard in my brain. If I can take care of me in a friendship, I can take care of them. If I can’t take care of me, then that friendship is no longer a choice I can continue with.

I asked you guys to share advice for someone going through the loss of a friendship and you all sent me really beautiful advice. I’ll be sharing that in another post next week.

xox,

e