A Friend Lost

Years ago, in college, I knew what my life would look like.  I would spend some time in NYC, finding small acting gigs, working retail, trying to spend the "twenty years it takes to become a master actor" according to the late, great Sandy Meisner.  Once I had some experience under my belt, I would teach acting, inspiring young people to truly discover their inner selves and share those "selves" with their audiences.  I would marry a tall, dark, cultured man of a good background who would make a lot of money enabling us to have a vacation home in Cape May.  We would buy that VIctorian house and fix it up to its original splendor and host house tours and tea parties to raise funds for the Historic Preservation Society.  By my side, through it all, would be my college friends.  My sorority sisters and my closest theater major friends.  I could see in my mind the wedding photos, the weekend getaways we would take, how close our families would be, even though we would possibly live a great distance from one another. Years ago, in college, I had it all planned out.

But as a good friend has told me, "Make plans and God laughs."

And so my life is nothing like I had planned it out to be.  I never went to NYC.  I didn't act professionally.  My husband is tall, but blond.  We do own the Victorian home, but it has bled us dry, no matter how much money we make.  We will never own a vacation home.  It will be years before our house is back to its original splendor, if ever.  And by my side, through it all, have been a vast assortment of friends from each phase of my life.  Grade school friends.  High school friends. College friends.  Grad school friends.  Work friends and more work friends.

I love the life I have.  I think as I have matured, I have become a better person.  I have learned with each mistake I have made.  Infertility has made me stronger.  I am more faithful.  And I feel blessed to have the life I do.

And yet, there is one regret that I have.  One that weighs heavily on me.  The mere mention of this person makes me physically ill, and my heart hurts.  This person, my college roommate, was the person with whom I thought I would share every phase of my life.  I thought she would be there for me on my wedding day.  Race to the hospital when I had my baby.  Comfort me as my parents aged.  I thought I would be there for her, too.  And yet...

I have not talked to her since her father's funeral over ten years ago (maybe longer).  The invitation to her wedding was, I believe, just to appease a friendship I thought would last forever.  We were close, thick as thieves, sharing all of college's experiences in minute detail during college, but during the end of our senior year, as the future faced us with increasing uncertainty, things seemed to change.  Was it me?  Was it her?  Time has faded the memory greatly and only a few outstanding notions come to me.  I remember that I invited her future husband to my formal.  I remember she asked his best friend.  I remember that she began dating her future husband around the time of the formal, but I believe after I had invited him.  I remember being alone at my formal because she was with her future husband and her date was off smoking pot somewhere.  I remember being so hurt, sad, lonely, betrayed.  But was it her fault or mine?  Had I asked him to the formal knowing that they liked one another?  I do remember that many of us were unaware that she had been having secret calls with him and secret visits to him when she would "go home for the weekend."  But did I know, at least enough to NOT ask him to my formal? 

I was furious after the formal, yet she didn't understand why.  Her life after graduation became centered on this new relationship.  It was as if she had always been looking for a husband in college, and once found, her need for us, her friends and sisters, became unnecessary.  I tried for a year after we graduated to connect.  At times she was angry, sometimes annoyed, yet always dismissive.  I was hurt and I remember the last time I told her how I truly felt was in the cover of a book I bought for her for her birthday-a book about a weekend reunion of old friends.  I wrote a lot, and was very honest.  There was no response.  Her father became very ill awhile after this and that was that.  He passed away, and I couldn't be there to support her.  I wanted to.  I would have dropped everything for her, but she had moved on, didn't need me in her life.

We move on in our lives.  Friends come and go.  We hold onto memories and look to the future.  But this one friend, my college roommate, the loss of her remains just that, a loss.  Mostly because I don't understand what happened.  I don't understand how you can push away those with whom you have shared such times, those who would do anything for you...even now.  I don't understand how you want no contact.  To not even want to check in with others.  Perhaps I made some grave, immature mistakes, but truly, they were made out of insecurity and immaturity-and I'm not even sure it was all me.  I was hurt throughout this, too, and yet I would love to be a part of her life.  I just don't understand.

Through the glories of Fa.ce.book, I have discovered recent photos of her with a beautiful little girl, of Korean descent.  As I know both her and her husband, I know this little one has to be adopted.  And instantly, the infertile in me flares up.  Did she have fertility issues?  Did her heart break with every cycle that didn't work?  Did her stomach and thighs look like a connect-the-dot game with all the injections?  And I get mad.  I could have been there for her.  I understand.  I could have held her hand.  I could have been there for her.

She made a choice, or I made it for her.  Or we both made choices and this is where we are.  I have come to terms with many things from my past, but this one, this one still gets me.  So, college roommate, if somehow you find me here, know this...I have missed being a part of your life.  And I hope that you are happy.

Comments

[Lisa]

From one infertile to another, I feel your pain. There is a friend from highschool that I just found on FB that has obviously adopted, and I wish I was close enough to her to discuss and empathize through these struggles.

I'm in the process of m/c'ing my 3rd, so I know what you are going through with all the blood draws and "doctor drama"...I wish you the best, my thoughts and prayers are with you and your family!

[cowboyboot lady]

That is really hard. It is hard to lose a friend, especially one as close as she was to you. I am sorry! If you sent her a message on Facebook, do you think she would respond?

[rita]

I empathize. But I do not have the courage to open those chapters of my life again, especially after 1 failed attempt with an old male friend (who thought we had something more, but I thought not). The phrase, "let sleeping dogs lie" keeps resounding in my head and it stops me.
Keep us posted if you decide to make contact. I think you are by far better equipped emotionally than I am to reconnect with old friends.
Rita

[Stacey]

This is a very moving post. I hope that the two of you will be able to reconnect if it's the right time for you both. I had to see a good friendship fizzle.