Yesterday I was happily deleting files off my computer, which I do now and again to make room for the new, when I hopped on Windows Live Messenger. I hadn't signed on in months so this was quite unusual for me but out of shear curiosity, I signed in. I continued away deleting files and programs when up popped a message from an unexpected source. We'll call him "X".
I've known X since 2004. He was the keyboard player in the band I was promoting throughout the states. We were like two peas in a pod, on the road for a month and a half, always chatting and laughing and having a good time. We walked from the apartment we were staying at in West Hollywood to Tower Records on Sunset Blvd., all the while telling stories and cracking ourselves up. We often-times shared a room at some dumpy motel in the middle of nowhere as we drove through the desert to get from Los Angeles to our end destination: Dallas, Texas. X and I would spend nights talking about everything from past relationships to the perils of the music industry to our current passions and woes. There wasn't anything we didn't tell each other. Through our shared experiences on the road we bonded and would develop a lasting friendship. Many thought there was something more than friendship between us but it never once leaned in that direction. He was my best friend.
Our friendship continued (or should I say, "survived"?) through the breakup of the band, broken relationships, marriage and divorce, family turmoil, visits from me to his home across the country and an ocean, his visits to me in Los Angeles and much, much more. But the last time I saw him is a day I knew something was about to change, and not for the better.
It was May of 2008, when X planned a spontaneous trip to LA to visit me for a few days. The trip was really just an excuse to pick up some music equipment he had ordered through a friend at the Guitar Center in Hollywood. His friend was providing him a steep discount which made the trip worth his while.
My plan was to hang out with X as much as possible, do some site seeing, go out to dinner and spend time with friends while still handling my daily responsibilities at work. My friend in my apartment complex offered to pick X up from the airport while I was at my morning job and drop him off at the Guitar Center. After I got off work from my afternoon job I would drive out to Hollywood to pick him and his equipment up and bring him back to my apartment in Santa Monica. So off I went, with my roommate in tow, into the midst of rush hour traffic. If you know anything about LA, you know that it can take you an hour to drive five miles. I had to drive eight miles. Needless to say, it took us over an hour but we finally arrived where I was greeted with a giant bear hug. It was so nice to see X.
We spent the next few days cramming in as much activity as we could in between my jobs. We had dinner with friends, went shopping, hung out at Universal City Walk and walked around
Beverly Hills where we visited my friend Hasty Torres' chocolate shop,
Madame Chocolat, which has been featured on such shows as "The Girls Next Door" and "Dr. Phil." Hasty is an exceptional chocolatier trained by the world famous culinary chef and chocolatier
Jacques Torres. I had dinner with Hasty and Jacques once in
Hollywood, the day that the episode of "The Girls Next Door" was filmed at Madame Chocolat which I'll share another time. We managed to cram so much into the first few days which was great because I became seriously ill a couple of days in that I couldn't do much. Everywhere we went I had to visit a bathroom every 20 minutes. I wasn't eating but I was still sick to my stomach. It was coming out both ends. This was making it impossible to go anywhere or to enjoy myself.
Even though I was terribly sick, X was visiting and still wanted to do things and I didn't want to disappoint him. I asked my friends to take him out and show him a good time. They were good to him but he still pushed for me to come along. I was getting more frustrated by the day because I felt as though he was being selfish. I understood that he came a long way but what was I supposed to do, wear a diaper so I could paint the town with him?
I somehow managed to pull myself together on X's final night in town. We made dinner reservations for us and three other friends at a high-end restaurant famous for its ribs, just up the street from my apartment. X wanted to take us to dinner as a thank you. I was feeling resentful but did my best to put those feelings (and my illness) aside so that we could enjoy our last few hours together before I had to take him to the airport. We had some wine and I ordered the ribs but I really didn't consume much. I just wasn't up for it. We all had a great time laughing and eating (me watching them eat) and soon enough it was time to say goodbye.
In the days following X's departure, he called and asked me to pick up one last piece of equipment he had ordered that hadn't come into the store until he was already back home. I had no time in between trying to take care of my health, my jobs and the other things I had going on. It's not like in "LA-distance" the store was around the corner. I was also furious because at this point he didn't even offer to reimburse me for the expenses. X asked a friend of mine who wasn't working at the time and didn't live far from the Guitar Center to pick up the item and bring it over to me which thankfully he did. I remember how angry I was the day I mailed the package to him. The emotions had been brewing for at least a week and a half so it wouldn't be long before they erupted. When he eventually called, it all came out like a volcano spewing ash. I do believe that was the last time we spoke until just yesterday when his instant message flashed on my screen to my utter shock. I'm not saying my behavior was appropriate or acceptable because it was neither. I've learned a tremendous amount about myself since that time which is why I was so thrilled to see his name pop up on my screen.
We chatted online for an hour yesterday and much was said to heal the wounds of times past. We were very lucky to have found each other that day though I'm not sure I can call it luck. Maybe divine intervention. I had been thinking about X a lot, missing his friendship and wondering how he was doing. Ironically, I had come across many of the photos we've taken over the years while I'd been sorting through the files on my computer.
And then there were his recent experiences. X told me that the night before he had had a dream about me, that I was crying and he was there to wipe away my tears. When he woke up he couldn't stop thinking about me all day. He decided to sign onto Messenger which he said he hadn't done in months and there I was. Hmmm... makes you wonder why things happen the way they do. But who am I to question how God works? I'm just grateful to have my friend back in my life. And you know what? It was exactly how it always was between us: natural.
This story is a prime example of forgiveness (for both of us) and gratitude. I am forever grateful to understand the true meaning of forgiveness and the ability to let go. Often times we waste so much of our energy being hurt or angry over something so minor that we miss out on valuable time with our loved ones. What a spectacular lesson!
