Miss You Already

Finding out through social media that someone is speaking badly of you is sad. Such passive-agressive behavior. Maybe it's time to shut Facebook down as it's becoming a place for people to make snap judgements about someone else's life when you have no idea what someone else's experience is. I am finding my circle is becoming smaller & smaller. I suppose that's a good thing. 

On that note... movie recommendation: "Miss You Already" starts out strange but ends up being a heartwarming yet sad story. Makes you realize that there are some people you just can't live without. Please watch it and appreciate those you love.

Unexpected Changes

This year has to be one of the strangest for me regarding friendships and loved ones.  Every time I think, "Well that's one more friend gone that I didn't really need anyway," I experience something even more bizarre.

It started with a huge fall out with my sister and things slowly rolled downhill from there.  I am learning the hard way that I cannot control what others think about me or even what others are saying about me.  If someone in my life decides to be dishonest with our family and friends because they fear being looked down upon for the facts, again, this is something I cannot control.  The way I know who is a genuine friend or loved one is if they come to me for the truth.  Unfortunately, I have discovered that many have not.  They prefer to be swept up in the untruths and drama of another person.  So what I am left to do is move on - move forward from the entire ordeal.

The next thing that caught me off guard was someone I have known since high school, whom I thought was a "best" friend, whatever that means anymore.  We'd been on several trips together, never particularly argued or disagreed about much, had tons in common yet lived different lives, and I really thought it was a friendship that would last.  I was blessed with winning a trip to Las Vegas, NV, for a musical festival last year so I asked this friend to go with me, thinking she'd be the perfect partner in crime - and my crime I mean, someone who'd pass out at 10:00PM in Las Vegas instead of partying the night away at the local clubs.  The last day of our trip we were hanging out in our room talking until we were to go get our massages at the hotel spa.  I told her about an incident that had occurred a couple of years before that followed the demise of my relationship with my sister.  She was thoroughly offended by something that someone else had said and we ended up in a huge argument.  I tried to convince her to agree to disagree but she kept pushing and insisting that myself and the other person we wrong in our thinking.  She just wouldn't give up.  Finally, after some silence, she finally agreed to let it go.  Clearly, she wasn't being honest with me (or herself) because shortly after we returned from the trip I could feel her pulling away.  She never even tried to discuss it with me.  A couple of months later it was my birthday and she "couldn't" make it for my brunch.  She and her husband sold their home and moved a few towns over and I've never heard from her again.

Onto incident number three.  Out of the blue I received a text message from a friend I hadn't seen in years.  He was a guitar player & keyboardist in a band I used to do publicity for and manage.  We were extremely close at one point, even having lived together (the whole band) for several months in Austin, TX.  When the text came through, I was surprised to see that he was in town on tour with another singer and he invited me to the show that evening.  I saw that of course I would love to see him after all these years and asked if I would get to spend some time with him as well.  He told me that we'd see each other but that it had to be "our secret" because he had a very jealous girlfriend who would never approve.  I've never understood people allowing someone else to dictate what they can do in their life but to ask me to participate in your dishonesty?  To me, that is NOT acceptable.  I don't want to be a part of someone else's cover up.

Needless to say, I saw the show and met up with him as soon as it was over.  He told security that I was family, allowed to be there, and brought us back stage to introduce us to the rest of the band.  We spent a couple of hours with him, walking to the hotel bar and having a drink, chatting and taking some photos.  We then said our goodbyes, knowing I probably wouldn't being seeing him again.

The next morning I e-mailed him all the photos I had taken of him at the show and two videos so he would have these wonderful memories of himself on tour with a Latin pop star.  He immediately called me and told me not to post them onto my Facebook page.  I thought that was strange.  I told him I'd post them but I wouldn't tag him to which he freaked out saying that eventually his girlfriend would find out.  Here we go again.... I just can't grasp dishonesty and then trying to remember all the lies you've told or the truths you've withheld and from which people.  Truth is always the best policy. I gave in, agreeing to not post anything.  How disappointing to have your hands tied by someone who is supposed to be your friend because they can't be honest in their own life!  Worse yet is that there's NOTHING to hide in this situation!

Today I sit here, having experienced so much loss in my life yet also knowing that those I'm close to, those few people I can truly call friends or family, are the most special people who have given me so much support.  I am blessed to the moon and beyond!

I'm in the process of planning a move to the other side of the country with my parents.  I can't wait to have a fresh start in a place where I know there are people like me.

Kenny Lipska... A Soul Lost Too Soon

I received the news yesterday that one of my closest friends from high school was on life support after being diagnosed with spinal meningitis.  It all happened so quickly and now he's laying in a hospital bed on life support waiting to be sent home to God.

Kenny and I became friends through my high school sweetheart and we quickly forged a bond.  His family lived on the same street as so many of the kids we went to school with and he had tons of friends.  All the girls liked him.  He was cute and sweet and funny and kind... and so much more.  He was my friend.

On summer nights we would all sit out in the street listening to music, telling stories, laughing and talking.  When I was sad, Kenny would put his arm around me and let me cry on his shoulder.  When I was happy, he would laugh with me.  When I just needed a friend, he would wrap his arms around me and hold me.

I have so many fond memories of him that I hold dear to my heart.  One summer night, we were all hanging out with his family on his front lawn.  They were a close-knit, religious bunch (he has two sisters).  We were laying down on the lawn cuddled up in a blanket, looking up at the stars.  I never used to show affection like that but he made me comfortable.  He loved me for me.

Kenny is the (only) reason I fell in love with country music.  He and his neighbor Matt got me listening to, don't laugh... Billy Ray Cyrus.  I never would have imagined myself listening to anything with a twang.  If it weren't for Kenny playing "Achy Breaky Heart" I might not have ever opened my heart and mind to country.

On summer days, the gang would all drive out to the local reservoir and the boys would go on the rope swings.  They would climb down the steep hill, grab the ropes hanging from the trees and literally hoist themselves up and into the water.  My best friend Renee and I never did.  I had an immense fear of the dirty green water but we would sit back and watch the boys.  Kenny loved the rope swings.

I haven't spoken to Kenny since high school though I did look for him on Facebook a couple of years ago with no results.  Last summer I connected with an old friend (who was one of the gang that would hang out on that street together) and he is the person who shared this devastating news with me.  I feel sad that I missed out on the last years of Kenny's life.  I'm told that he was very happily married with two beautiful boys.  I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he is gone.  I am beyond devastated that this wonderful friend and good-hearted man has passed away so early in life.  He will be missed by so many.  I can't even begin to imagine how much this has rocked his family's world.  Words cannot express the devastation.

Kenny Lipska, may you rest in peace.  God bless you and your entire family.

*If you have any memories to share about Kenny feel free to respond with a comment.

***Afterthought:  Feeling sad, I just took a drive through the old neighborhood and relived many of the memories.  As I was turning onto the street, Lady Antebellum's song, "Need You Now" came on the radio.   How ironic that a country song would play at the exact moment I was driving on Kenny's old street (I was not listening to country radio).  So sad.

The Story of X

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! 

2010: New Year, New Me

I'm back!!! It's been a while since I've written on my blog but the time has arrived.

A new year with new energy. I've welcomed the new year and the new decade with open arms. Last year was one of the most challenging years I've ever faced but I made it through by the grace of God and with a sense of humor. I survived! That's a major feat in and of itself.

Going into 2009, I knew big changes lie ahead as I sensed a shift taking place inside my heart.  I was beginning to question past decisions, the people I'd chosen to surround myself with, my ability to judge character clearly, why I was living in a city (Los Angeles) that represents fame, excess and lack of morals, where my life was headed and how on earth I was going to climb out of the rut I found myself in. I had no idea where or how to even begin.

I slowly but surely distanced myself from the toxicity of my so-called friends. Some were friends I'd known since college and others that were newbies, but all were not people who, if I had kids, I would want my kids to hang out with. Don't get me wrong, there were many happy times and great lessons I learned from my "friends" but when you cease to grow and the people around you are engaging in negative behaviors that become harmful to your own pysche, it means it's time to move on. I don't know why it took so long for me to awaken the common sense I'd apparently lost. I'm just glad it happened.

Part of it was having reconnected with my b.f.f. from college. We had gone through a difficult time following graduation and parted ways (not on good terms) due to our inability to deal with our inner demons, admit our own faults and get help. But my b.f.f. contacted me via LinkedIn in Summer of 2008. I waited three whole days to respond. I took the time to absorb her words and be certain that I had no ulterior motive in responding. From the moment we started writing, we easily fell back into our old, fun-filled friendship. We both took responsibility for our past actions and expressed how much growth we'd experienced. As time passed and our relationship grew stronger, I began to feel like me again. I realized that I didn't like this LA party-girl I had become. WOW. I admitted it. I wasn't happy with me anymore. I'd lost direction, gained weight, allowed people in my life who wanted to make themselves feel better by listing my faults for me and telling me how I needed to change, and I'd cut ties with the actual people who'd awakened a passion in me over the years because damnit, I allowed a "friend" to convince me that these people were unhealthy for me. Since when do I not think for myself? This isn't me.

I was ready to move back to the Bay Area to be close to my family again. My mother had been going through some major health issues and needed some assistance so that was another push in the direction of a move. I'd mulled the idea over for the last few months, especially since I'd come to understand that most of the people I had chosen to spend my time with on a regular basis didn't really care for or about me. The decision was made. I just had to tell my "friends." And so I did. I can honestly say that I felt a lack of support. Some "friends" said things in an attempt to make me feel as though I'd failed. I'd lived in LA from June of 2006 to Feb. 27 2009, just shy of three years. My "best friend" would insist I'd only lived there two years as if to say that I couldn't hack it. Well, guess what? I couldn't and I didn't want to. What sane person wants to continue in an environment where people can't be real, where they put up a facade, pretending to be something or someone they are not by living outside their means? Why would I want to continue living in a place where my "friends" were abusing narcotics by taking them recreationally and passing them out to their friends and even selling them for profit? Why would I want to continually subject myself to "friends" who blatantly talk about their "friends" behind their backs? If they're doing it to them, chances are they're doing it to me too! I was more ready than ever to say goodbye. By the way, I'm not saying that everyone in LA fits the above description. I just happened to surround myself with that very type.

For my 34th birthday, I planned a trip to New York City with my "best friend" as a last hurrah. It was my first time back in NY since I was 6 years old. I was born in New York. My family lived on Long Island. My parents were born in Queens and Mom was raised in Brooklyn. I came from a true New York Italian family who never minced words and always spoke their minds. I had such strong character. If I didn't like you, you knew it. I never held back. This was a quality for which my "best friend" condemned me on a regular basis. But the moment I arrived in NYC, I felt as if I was home. I don't mean the kind of home you live in. In NYC, I felt 100% that I belonged. It was a deep knowing, truly understanding where I came from and finally feeling at peace. This was one more sign to me that I was definitely on the right path of getting back to me. To read more about my NYC experience see the blog entitled, "My First Time in NYC" at http://musicgirlonamission.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-first-time-in-nyc.html.

Upon my return from NYC, I began to go through my things, figuring out what I could throw out or donate, and what really needed to move with me. Not only had I been doing a moral inventory but now I was doing a material one as well. My uncle was renting a U-Haul trailer to load all my stuff into and drive up to Northern California. I'd be moving back into my parents' house (Dear God, please help me). Truth be told, I wasn't looking forward to living with my parents again but I didn't have much of a choice since I'd have no job, a small savings account, and little to show for myself. But I did feel blessed and grateful for the fact that I have parents who were willing to give me their support to help me get back on my feet.  I quit both of my part time jobs, packed up and shipped out without looking back.

It's not to say that moving back was the easiest thing I ever did but it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. But so was moving to LA. It stripped me down to the bare bones; coming back built my character back up. I'm stronger than I've ever been. Again I was faced with major decisions that would either move me in the direction of growth or would keep me stuck in the same useless place I'd found myself in for some time.

As soon as I moved back I began looking for a job (unfortunately, this tedious task still remains on my daily to-do list). I got myself into a routine of running three miles a day at least three to four days a week which eventually turned into six to seven days a week. Rarely a day passes that I don't work out. I feel like a schlump if I don't. In 2007, life came to a total standstill following the break up of my year and a half long relationship. Because I was acting out by regularly drinking with friends and consuming unhealthy foods, I found myself lying on my couch for 10 days straight from a nausea I'd never experienced before. Following several trips to urgent care, I was diagnosed with acid reflux and put on medication. Eventually, with the meds, I got the illness under control but moving back to the place where I grew up and starting life all over again, it was my goal to get off the meds (I've never believed in putting foreign substances into my body unless absolutely necessary, especially for things that can be controlled with diet and a change in lifestyle). I knew I had to get my health in tip top shape. That's exactly what I did. Along with the shift in my exercise regime, I did a 180 degree turn with my eating habits and soon stopped the medication. My acid reflux was gone and I lost 20 lbs. I was a whole new person! Not really, but physically, I felt like I was back in my 20s.

During this already challenging time, I was running my mother around from doctor to doctor, to emergency rooms and urgent cares. She was in and out of hospitals for surgeries, treatment, and physical therapy. We thought the worst was over until she began crying of excruciating pain. This went on for months. It wasn't until a few months ago that doctors finally discovered the true source of my mother's pain. She was operated on two more times and is now on her way to a full recovery.

As this was all happening, my "best friend" was sending me aggressive e-mails accusing me of being a bad friend and of not making time for her. Funny because I seem to remember trying to talk to her and being told that I needed to be "scheduled into her calendar" because she was so busy. After many failed attempts at communication (I tried my best to maintain some connection so as not to throw a friendship completely by the wayside), I decided to put some distance between us but she called me on it over and over again. I just didn't want it to become a battle. I didn't want to run down a laundry list of items or reasons that it was no longer healthy for us to be close. Maybe that was the coward's way out but I didn't want to be judgmental. I just wanted to do what was best for me. But she couldn't understand my need for separation. Nor was she happy with the fact that I removed several of her friends from my Facebook page (they were her friends, after all). She told me that she couldn't maintain a relationship with me if I couldn't be friends with her friends. What kind of friend is that? I could see the demands flying. Too many expectations here. I could smell the end of this friendship coming from miles away.

Early in 2009, I began a long-distance relationship with a good friend that ended almost as quickly as it began. We had met through work and had been friends for several years. He was significantly younger than me but he appeared to be mature. He had strong morals, came from a close-knit family and we seemed to want many of the same things. I really believed the relationship would work but discovered that he wasn't quite the great communicator that I thought he was. So I ended it after a few attempts at making things right. Besides the years of friendship we shared, there are some positives that I can take from the short-lived relationship for which I am grateful. The first is that I recognized early on that this wouldn't work and I took the necessary steps in order to let go rather than dragging out the inevitable.  The second plus about this relationship is that it awakened something in me that I hadn't felt for a long time. I've spent the last decade determined that I didn't want to marry or have children but something about this man opened my heart to the idea that maybe those things are possible in my future. That's a huge step for me. And it feels good to admit it. So thank you to this special man for breaking me wide open.

Toward the latter half of the year I traveled to Raleigh, North Carolina to visit my b.f.f. and her family. I call this my "healing period." My "Eat, Pray, Love" moment, if you will. I was so wound up from months of no sleep and pure emotional exhaustion. It took me the entire six days to wind down. On day one, I remember driving through the back streets with my b.f.f. behind the wheel and crying. I don't mean just crying. I was bawling. Here was months of pain erupting from within. I was embarrassed but also knew that this woman sitting next to me understood me and knew that I was grieving and letting go. She and her husband helped me spiritually to find my center again. The word gratitude cannot explain how much I appreciated that they opened their home to me, gave me so much love (along with their children) and helped me see more than just myself. It was also during this trip that I responded to the latest accusatory e-mail that I had received three weeks prior from the "best friend." I was ready to say my final goodbye and let go of all the drama that had slowly worked its way into my life.

Since returning from Raleigh, life has been much calmer. Yes, there have been bumps in the road along the way but I am handling them with much more grace. I had the sheer pleasure of spending the last few weeks of 2009 with the family I love so much and friends that I adore. It gave me renewed hope for 2010, a year that I'm certain will be filled with plenty of smiles and a lot of faith that was so difficult to find in '09.

2010... I welcome you with open arms. I love you already.

What is a friend?

Is it someone who laughs with you when all you can do is laugh at yourself?  Is a friend someone who loves you unconditionally?  Is it someone who has been there since the beginning?  Does a friend remember your birthday or some other major event in your life?  Does he/she know your favorite color or food?  Does a friend go to the movies or a concert with you?  Does he/she call you just to say hi?  Does a friend, even if they don’t call you back right away, eventually call you back?

The word “friend” is often used too lightly in describing someone in our lives that should otherwise be ascribed acquaintance or someone who randomly pops in and out of our lives.  Friends are there for a reason or a season, right?  That statement begs the question: are you really my friend?

In my book, a friend is a person that knows me (or is trying to get to know me) without barriers.  She (or he) knows the real me, the girl that’s willing to let down her guard and be vulnerable.  But what makes a person deserving of that?  That person should be honest, genuine, trustworthy and loyal.  Handle yourself with the utmost authenticity.  Be honest about what you are looking for in a friend and if you cannot put effort into a friendship, don’t expect it in return. 

Over the years I have discovered that in order to have a friend, you have to be a friend.  Last year I was blessed to have a very special friend unexpectedly return to my life.  In my early 20s while I was attending community college, as I was soul-searching for the woman I wanted to become (sometimes in the wrong places), I met a girl named Melissa, who had ironically gone to the same high school as I did and inadvertently had many of the same friends.  It was the first day of some kind of science class (I think astronomy) that neither of us cared to be in.  I was the nerd sitting in the front of the lecture hall while she was the ever rebellious girl sitting as far back as she could in order to avoid calling any attention from the instructor.  She recognized me from school and began asking me questions.  Little did we know in that moment that we would eventually become the best of friends.  This girl was just like me – outspoken, witty, somewhat jaded, lost on the path of education and grasping at strings to hold on.  She asked if we could carpool together since we both lived with our parents who still lived near our old school.  Sure, why not, I thought.  Who knew that an hour in the car each day could develop into such an intense friendship?

Over the years we would do everything together. We laughed harder than I’ve ever laughed before.  Sometimes we had no idea why we were even laughing but it was a quality in a friendship that I cherished because it was the laughter that wiped away the sadness I was enduring at that time.  We traveled together, shared our love stories, had family dinners, rode on a glider together (boy was THAT an experience!), went to bars/clubs and restaurants, hung out with my niece and nephew, had booming parties at her first apartment, experienced our first (and only) ho-down in Hollister, and felt the pride at finally receiving our associate’s and bachelor’s degrees together.  Melissa was there with me through an abusive relationship (she helped me to let go and say goodbye).  She was there when the love of my life came to California to visit after years of a developing friendship and she held my hand when I had to say goodbye.  She was by my side when he broke my heart just a few weeks later.  She saw me through depression from all of the above situations.

In return, I was by her side during her difficult relationship and through her personal, emotional battle with childhood demons.  I stood by as she endured the difficult task of trying to get on the local police force.  I was there when her dream was shattered.  We picked each other up when no one else could.

Oddly enough, I was about to introduce Melissa to my dear friend Raul whom I had been telling her about for the last year.  He was the least judgmental and most loving person I had known, wise beyond his years (he was 28).  We were visiting her then-boyfriend at his work when we decided we’d stop by Raul’s house, which I used to do often.  Melissa insisted I call him before going over.  I didn’t understand.  I always just showed up.  So I called…

The phone rang, and rang.  A woman picked up.  I asked for Raul.  She said, “Raul se falleció.”  I didn’t understand.  “Is he OK?” I asked.  “No,” she said.  “He’s dead.”  I couldn’t speak.  I had no idea what to say.  What do you say to a mother who has just told you that her son (your best friend) has died?  His sister got on the phone as I was falling to the ground.  I don’t remember all that was said in the next moments.  Somehow Melissa got me to the hospital where he was being kept alive on life support until his family was ready to make the decision to let him go.  Raul had a brain aneurism which burst in the middle of the night while he was playing music.  He died doing the thing he loved most, an event he had predicted to me a few years earlier.  Melissa was there with me at Raul’s bedside, when I had no idea how to cope.  She watched me as I looked at his lifeless body, swollen face and shaved head.  She was there.  She took me to his memorial service, held my hand and cried with me.  She didn’t even know this person but as an extension of me, she loved him anyway.

Following graduation, we did some more traveling, both to Los Angeles and Puerto Rico.  We played hard in those years but eventually it started to take its toll on both of us.  Neither of us were following our dreams.  Well, we were both trying but somehow it wasn’t in God’s plan for us at the time.  We both began to self-destruct, an event that finally destroyed our friendship.  We were both guilty but neither of us willing to budge.  We stopped talking.  Completely.  We’d see each other in the mall parking lot and pretend like the other didn’t exist.  What an example of our immaturity!

Full Circle

Last summer, as I was happily living my life in Santa Monica, I turned out my laptop and opened Outlook as I so often do.  There it was.  An e-mail notification from LinkedIn that read, “Join my LinkedIn Network.”  It was from Melissa.  I was in shock.  I had no idea how much I missed her until that exact moment.  Without sharing the contents of the message I will tell you that she acknowledged her part in the demise of our friendship and apologized for her behavior.  I was totally blown away.  That’s how you know a person in genuinely sorry for something they have done: they take responsibility!  She did and I was so excited.  She’d obviously grown up as had I.  That was all it took and our friendship was right back on track where we had left it (without all the negativity).  For the record, in case you’re wondering, I apologized to her as well and acknowledge my shitty behavior which led to our abrupt goodbye.

Today is a new day.  I tell Melissa all the time how grateful I am to have her back in my life.  I feel totally blessed to share a friendship with a woman who gets me.  She understands who I am as a person and perpetuates all that I am.  This is the definition of a friend.  One who sees you through the ups and downs of life, who doesn’t hold expectations, can listen without judging, be there to lend a hand or an ear, be honest with their opinion and always express their gratitude.  I am eternally grateful to have my best friend back in my life and I never let an opportunity pass me by to tell her how much I love her and cherish our friendship.