Tag: loss

family

What defines a Good Friend

Andi

Starting at my earliest memories, I had two best friends. I think I had other friends, because there are photos of me with other people, but I can only genuinely remember these two. I still have contact with both of these individuals through the invention of social media. One of them I have no other contact with outside of that. We never chat. The other we do interact over social media and occasionally chat over text or call.

In my teenage years I had a lot of friends. I remember being told that as an adult I’d only have a few friends, that a few good friends was better than many shallow friends. I thought it was total nonsense. I had a lot of friends and I loved all of them and thought they all loved me. I must simply be extraordinarily fortunate because I had many good friends. Most of these friends were from church or from the Summer Missions program I did with Child Evangelism Fellowship. Quite a few of these I still have minimal contact with via Social Media. Some, I’ve completely lost contact with. A handful I’ve purposely cut contact with. There were two I considered my best friends and a family I thought of like my own family. One of these best friends and I had a falling out over a relationship I thought was not good for her and which she wanted to pursue. She is no longer in this relationship, but we never rebuilt the friendship however and only interact over Facebook and the like.

The family and other friends I had within the church have all but fallen away. They were the biggest hurt I felt after leaving the church. They had been the people who loved me, who said they’d be with my through thick and thin. Some even claiming my other relations weren’t true friendships, only they were my true friendships. And I believed them. I believed they loved me and whatever I did or whatever happened, they’d still love me. But the harsh reality was they wouldn’t always be there for me. They would all disappear like a morning fog as the sun warms the earth. As soon as I left the church group, they left me behind. Even so much as to ignore me when I did come around as though they’d never known me. Some of these people I have purposely removed all contact with, a small few I still have social media contact with, but do not talk to otherwise. Only one of them has made any contact with me since I left the church. One out of the approximately 20 strong friend group we had developed.

After I had children my friend group changed again. Not to add mom friends, I didn’t have mom friends when my kids were really small. I kept the friends I had. Some had had kids by then and some hadn’t. I couldn’t fully explain to you what happened. Maybe it was the result of the kids. I had a few friends who became more and more shallow to me. It appeared to me they were putting up this fancy I’m-rich-and-super-spiritual façade and I had no energy to keep up with it. Their appearance was incredibly important to them and it just wasn’t to me. I think it started to produce a distance between us until it became a canyon. One of them, who actually had kids as well, met up with me at a splash pad. We sat next to each other on the same park bench and didn’t say a word to each other. It was awkward. We didn’t know what to say to one another anymore. The only conversation we had was instigated and revolved around the kids. We haven’t spoken since. Although I do still have social media contact with these people, its very minimal and mostly nonexistant.

By the time our family moved out of the state I’d grown up in, I only made a point to see three people before I left. One of them was the group of elderly people who always came into the cafe I worked in to have coffee after their morning walk. Another was a single friend I’d kept contact with, but admittedly hadn’t seen much of. When we made the move for some reason I guess I assumed people would still keep in touch despite the distance. The people who really cared about me at least. No one did though. I didn’t know anybody in the new state and nobody I knew in the old state bothered to keep in contact. I was overwhelmingly lonely. I watched an unhealthy amount of anime and Spongebob.

I knew I had to put myself into contact with people to make friends, so I joined a MOPS group. I was placed at a table with the exact right people. It was an instant connection with most of them. Of course I still have internet connection with them, and I see them on regular dates and get togethers. And then, someone I’d known years ago during my Summer Missions time got in touch with me and told me she wanted to just talk. We still text every month or so and catch up about what’s been happening. She and I both have kids of similar ages and know each others families. One person, I’d made contact with in a Facebook group happened to live close to me, and I decided to meet for coffee. She and I have several similarities, and the meeting was good. We’ve started to develop a friendship from there, but it’s still very young.

Through all of this, there have been a couple constants. My other best friend and I have been through some rough patches and had issues over time, but we have also been able to grow and build a strong relationship. He was the third person I made a point to see before we moved. The same time we moved, they moved in the opposite direction. That put quite a bit of physical distance between us. But we manage with regular phone chats. Of course with social media and texting keeping in contact has made long distance a little easier. Now, I would say he is my only best friend. My husband and I also have a friend he met through an old job. We lived next door to them for a while, and since moving have met and been befriended by their family. They were such a magnificent help to us during our big move. Our relationship has relaxed and become more casual. We’ve gone on a few double dates, and usually just lounge about when we hang out. We of course have contact over social media, but most of our contact is face to face or through a phone call.

I’ve seen a lot of friends come and go, and quite a few I still have at least some kind of contact with. But social media contact alone isn’t a proper gauge for a friendship. You don’t have the deep connection from that tiny thread of contact social media provides. Neither does seeing someone once every few years when you make the trek back home and come across them while you’re there visiting your family.

What does classify a good friend?

I always go back to a quote by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

There have been only three people on this earth that I have always felt completely safe with. People I’ve never felt the need to perform for or display only pieces of myself to appease them. My brother, my best friend, and my husband. I have more than one brother, but only one of them do I feel close too. He and I are the closest in age and spent the most time together growing up. We, I think, have the closet relationship out of the siblings. My best friend, the one who I went through that hard patch with, I have never felt awkward with. Even during that time, I had no fear about detailing to him why I was angry with him. And my husband. Even when we first met and I had butterflies galore and I was crushing on him, I never felt afraid of him. I was never cautious that if he knew me completely he’d break up with me. So, I never held anything back, and I still never do. He may be irritating sometimes, but he is still my biggest comfort.

Another trait many people associate with friendship is loyalty. Will that person be with you through thick and thin? This is certainly a good thing to consider. I’ve found more often than not, the answer is no. The term “fair weather friends” didn’t just make itself up. People are willing to ditch their friends for any myriad of reasons. Their new boyfriend didn’t like them, or they didn’t like the new boyfriend. You have a child and they didn’t and don’t feel relatable to you anymore. You separate from your spouse and they don’t approve. You don’t end up separating from your spouse and they don’t approve. You discover you have differing political views and they can’t stand you anymore. You start going to a different gym. On, and on, and on.

I’ve also learned people tend to all have very short term memory. They probably will not remember to give you a call or send a text. Once you no longer have consistent contact with someone, they won’t bother to keep in touch. It seems to just be the norm. When you leave a job, most of your coworkers, even ones you were friends with, will probably fade away because you won’t be put in contact with them everyday at work. When you graduate school, it’s not likely you will keep those fellow classmate friendships you had. You aren’t running into them and looking them in the face regularly, so you drift apart and forget each other. It is just what seems to happen. The old adage, “out of sight out of mind” is apparently true for human relationships. This is probably why when I was younger I heard several times, long distance relationships don’t work. Apparently, most humans can’t hold onto relationships from far away.

Some may say a good friend has similar interests, is trustworthy, is honest. And I’d agree, but I’d also say that all of those kind of roll back into the person you feel safe with. That person who you have no fear of leaving because you told them a dark secret. A person that understands your humor is someone you are comfortable with. A person who can hear your story, love you, maybe give you some hard honest advice, hug you, and help you move forward. That person, is your comfort and safe zone.

But I will say, a good friend is a dependable friend. The one you can count on to be there for that hard moment, and the good moment. Sometimes, stuff happens, especially if you and your friend have kids and dates have to be cancelled. But when a friend cancels every date one after the other, or simply doesn’t show up, it wears you down. You can’t rely on them to make it to a scheduled date, or at least text you before and let you know plans have changed. How will you depend on them when you really need them? When you call scared and alone, are they available to you? When you need advice, are they willing to chat? Everyone has schedules and everyone is busy, but are they always too busy for your friendship? If you need help, do they tell you I’ll call you back when I’m not swamped and we can talk or do they just ignore you and never call back. Can you depend on them at all? That is a marker of a good friend. Can you depend on them.

Going through life, particularly if you are an emotional or empathetic person, you will develop bonds with people. And even if you know in your head how humans work, losing one of those bonds hurts. It can wound you deeply. I know that I for a time didn’t want to meet any new people. I was afraid of making friends because why should I if they’re all just going to abandon me? I, apparently, put way more meaning into a relationship than the other person does and time after time, I’ve been burned. It makes me overly wary of new people. I’ve lost a friend over a boyfriend. I lost a friend over religion. I lost many friends over church. I lost a friend over a false rumor. I’ve been wounded and not sure if having friendships was even worth it. I don’t trust new friends.

But humans need other humans. It’s just how we are made. If I lock myself in and refuse to have contact with people, my anxiety amplifies, it grows, it starts to over take me. I need to be outside. I need nature. And I need friends. We all need friends. Study after study has shown that social interactions help not only our mental health, but physical health as well. A study done in Alameda County, California of more than 7,000 men and women, begun in 1965, Lisa F. Berkman and S. Leonard Syme found that people who were disconnected from others were roughly three times more likely to die during the nine-year study than people with strong social ties. We need to be around other human beings.

So I’m learning that out of all the connections I’ve made throughout my life, most of them will probably melt away. I probably won’t have the same relationships in 10 years as I do right now. But out of those many, I’ve made a few deep connections. I’ve had to go through a lot of friendships to find the ones that really stick. So the adults in my teen years were right. I do only have a few good friends, and that is better. Because they are my comfort, they are loyal and they are dependable.

And that really is what a good friend is isn’t it? The person you can find comfort in that won’t be scared away by who you are. The person you can depend on to be there for you, and that is only shown by experience. The person who is loyal, that will make the effort to keep in touch and keep building the friendship, even if you don’t see each other every day, and that is only shown with time. And you will probably only have a small handful of these good friends, and that’s not only ok, that is better.

family

Precious Ornaments

Andi

I have these ornaments, and they’ve been on every tree I can remember. They are a pair of figure skaters, and they were made by my Grandma Fern.

Well, she wasn’t really my grandma. She was my dad’s brother’s wife’s mom. So she was my cousins grandma, but not mine. But she lived down the street from my aunt and uncle and we visited every December.

She did a lot of bead crafting. I can remember her craft room with an entire wall of drawers filled with every color bead you can imagine. She gave me several ornaments over the years and I still have most of them. This pair was one of the first.

She had rheumatoid arthritis, and gradually her hands became more and more stiff. Eventually she became unable to handle the small beads. The last ornament she gave me is a little elf that my son now thinks is his.

Her last few years she developed alzheimer’s and she passed this last year. I’d not thought about it until I pulled all these beaded ornaments out of their boxes and it rushed over me. I hadn’t seen her in the final stages, but in a way, I don’t regret that. In my mind, I still see the smiling face cheerfully showing me how to craft. That’s the face I want to hold onto. That’s the face I remember when I hang this skating couple on my tree.

family

Superheroes

Andi

My grandparents were my biggest role models. They were the only strong positive influence in my young life. My grandma passed in 2008 when I was 15. I lost one of my role models right as I needed one most.

I read a lot of C.S. Lewis, so I suppose you could say he was someone I looked up to. And Julie Andrews was my musical hero. I wanted to sound like her, but I also wanted to be like her. She is a magnificent and beautiful woman, and I still want to be like her.

I don’t remember who, but someone gave me a copy of Iron Man that had been released that year. I was instantly enamored. For the next 11 years Marvel spun an elaborate tale of struggle and triumph. These flawed and broken characters who overcame and defeated their enemies became my role models. It didn’t matter that they were fictional. It didn’t matter they might of had problems, that just made them all the more real to me. I looked up to them and tried to emulate them. Especially Tony Stark. Its made pretty plain that Tony had anxiety. He had deep fears and serious regret. That he struggled. But he still got up everyday and put on the suit. He overcame. His character resonated so deeply with me and he became my personal role model, and of course my favorite Avenger.

It came to the big conclusion, the Endgame. When Tony sacrificed himself, it felt like an end, closure. 11 years I’d been following this hero through his arc, and now it was over. A month later is when my only other real life personal role model, my grandpa, passed. Almost like the true end of this part of my journey. Tony came along exactly when I needed him, and I don’t need him like I used to. I grew up in those 11 years. I faced my own anxiety and deep set fears. I graduated school, got married, had children.

Grandpa got to see all of his grandchildren grown and happy. Thats what he remembers last. His granchildren and great grandchildren giggling and happy around him. He was at peace.

Tony got to see his efforts repair the catastrophe Thanos had caused. He got to see his daughter, he got to see Peter. He saved the universe and he was able to rest.

I will always love Iron Man forever and always. I will always love Marvel for providing a hero for me at the perfect time, even though they have no way of knowing I needed it. I will hold a special place for RDJ for bringing the character to life. I will always love and cherish my grandparents for providing the true role models I needed direct contact with. My personal superheros.

family

Day of Sadness instead of Joy

Andi

Today would have been my Grandpa’s birthday. It’s the first he’s not here to celebrate. I know he lived a rich and full life, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t selfishly want him to be around forever.

I can’t say I’ve ever truly experienced grief before. I was merely a child when my dad’s mom passed. Even my Grandma, I was sad, but it still wasn’t the same. I was very close to Grandpa, more close than I was to Grandma. And even though I was a teen when she passed, I still don’t think my mind was mature enough to fully realize both the importance she played in my life and the finality of her death. So this emotion is not one I’m accustomed to.

It seems to blubber up at the most random of times. I was watching Coco with my son, a granted emotional movie but one everyone loves, and it made me weep. I’ve had dreams he appeared in and I’d wake up crying. We were watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade and my son was certain that Sean Connery was his great grandpa. He kept saying things like, “hey look! Its Grandpa!”, “what’s Grandpa doing?!” And “Go Grandpa!”. I can understand the confusion, especially to a young mind. He did have a white beard like the one Dr. Jones Sr. has. He was an educator, and during his years of teaching he did wear some outfits similar to the style of Jones. Had I noticed any kind of similarity between my Grandpa and Sean Connery? No. But now I do. And just the simple sound of my child’s voice calling out for Grandpa welled up a deep sadness within me. Not only does my kid not understand Grandpa is gone forever, but hearing that tiny voice say his name tore me down to the core.

My Grandpa was born on a farm and grew up through the Great Depression. He could recall riding a horse, with his younger brother, to school and the very first electric light ever installed on their farm. At 17, he joined the United States Navy and served in World War 2 and the Korea conflict. He served as a cook the majority of the time, but he was also a look out and a gun cleaner. Normally cleaning guns seems like a small task, except that these guns were the massive cannons found on battleships, not handheld muskets. There is a photograph of him, sitting on the end of one of these cannons, over the edge of the ship, just dangling hundreds of feet over the water.

After he left the Navy, he went to school, where he met my Grandma. She was a very strong willed, take charge kind of woman. Which fit perfectly because Grandpa was a very laid back, go with the flow kind of guy. They were not the stereotypical family unit of the 1950s. Grandma worked to put Grandpa through grad school when their kids were young, though she was further educated than he was. They were both teachers and they both loved it. Grandma handled all the finances, while Grandpa did all the cooking. We always joked that he never adjusted to cooking for such a small group. He still cooked enough food to feed a boat. We always got containers full of food because he’d cooked too much again. He and Grandma were married for 55 years before she passed.

He was incredibly witty and always had a quip ready to fire. Even into his old age. At some point he has made a snarky remark about everybody, even the people he liked. If you did something he didn’t appreciate, he was sure to let you know. Never, in all my life did I hear him say one snarky or unpleasant thing about Grandma. I know they had to have argued and bickered. They were married 55 years and raised two kids, they had to have disagreements. I know Grandma would get annoyed with him sometimes. You could hear it in her voice and she’d call to him using his first and middle name. But for all that, he’d say, he didn’t remember any of their disagreements. Maybe because he’d chosen to forget them. When the dementia started to progress he’d have these “visions” he called them. They were so vivid, he was sure they were real. Once he swore there was a dog on the back patio for instance. Rarely did they include a person, but the few times they did, it was always Grandma.

One of my favorite memories is from a few years ago. The local symphony orchestra did a Disney Fantasia show. I love Fantasia with all my being, and Grandpa loves symphony orchestras, so I bought us tickets to go see it. I think the fact parents had taken the opportunity to bring their children made him even happier. He was joyful and beaming. It still is the most vivid and happy memory I have with him.

Not that it was my only happy memory, in the least. I have several with him on road trips, stopping at some hole in the wall restaurant because he had a feeling they had good BBQ. He would go all the way to Maine for lobster, Fredricksburg, TX for pecans, and New Iberia for some omelette. In fact, a lot of our travelling revolved around good food.

He loved his grandchildren, but he especially loved the great-grandchildren. When he went in for a hip surgery, he rolled around the hospital with my oldest on his lap proclaiming to all the nurses that this was his great-grandson, and he was named after him. I never saw him happier than the Thanksgiving my niece, then about 6, just learned how to read, sat next to him and read him book after book. He was able to meet the youngest member of the family just weeks before he passed, my brother’s daughter, and he was still alert at the time. I know how important that was to both my Grandpa and my brother.

He never dated or remarried after Grandma’s passing. He was in love with her until the very end. When he died, I knew he was ready to go. He was tired and aching.

I guess I can hold onto the fact that I can tell my son all the great stories about the person he was named after. That I know he has some of his own memories of him. He did get to see all of his grandchildren marry and have families of our own. It is some joy to me that my husband and Grandpa liked each other so much. That his legacy lives on in our memory and in the influence his life had on ours.

But none of that stops the welling emotion, or the tears the come up and cannot be stopped. That instead of today being cheerful, it’s a solemn reminder of the magnificent man we lost.