On friends and losing them

My bed, as of late, has become a type of hotel. In the past two months, five different people have shared it with me. And aside from my strange love of sharing beds, this has been delightful considering they have been some of my closest friends who have stopped by for a night.

The thing about getting older is, you realize why you like the people you like. Perhaps you become more particular? You start understanding the importance of surrounding yourself with people who inspire you – people who you want to be like. 

As you get older, your ability to form deeper relationships grows. You feel so fulfilled with these incredible people you get to associate with.

And then… they’re gone.

I mean, they don’t die and you don’t stop being friends, but life happens. They have to move on, move up, move forward. You do too, but it doesn’t usually take you in the same way.

I have gone through many phases of this with my friends. Sometimes it’s a new job that claims them. Sometimes, a move, or parenting, or life just gets busy. But nothing claims them as much as marriage.

This year, I will go through the deepest phase of this. My closest friends are moving on. It’s this bizarre-o mix of being deeply happy for them, and thrilled to have seen this miracle unroll, but silently mourning the loss your friendship has to take.

You’ll still be friends. You can still talk and hang out (after they re-surface in about a year), but never will the relationship be the same. It’s appropriate their loyalties shift, but it’s a little painful to think about what you once had that no longer is the same.

So all of these bed sharings, and quick drop bys? I’ll soak them in while I can. And then I’ll trust that I’ll enter into another good phase.