I had a friend when I was younger.
G and I would talktalktalktalktalktalk talk about everything, but mostly about religion. I never was one of those “The bible said it, I believe it and that is the end of it” sorts. I had to think about it, turn it over and look at it. Scratch my beard. Wonder why. Eventually I figured it out, but sometimes people got uncomfortable about me talking about things, asking why. G never did.
There may have been an “elephant in the room” with G and I. I was unsure how much of an elephant there was, whether it was there or not. He never said. So I ignored it. I just liked having him as my friend, my only one with whom I could talk about religion. We were tight. We could be apart for a very long time and pick right back up. Though in some of those spaces he developed habits that changed him.
G and I the last time we spoke was a terrible terrible conversation. One wherein he professed his undying love for me and I bawled. He told me I inspired him, I cried. When we first met, I was a little attracted to him, but as he got older his path veered from mine. One that I grew away from. We stayed friends, but it was different, and only maybe when we first met did I like him so much.
G and I don’t speak anymore. He is married, I am married. I remember the past we shared. But his present has surely defined him more than anything he and I went through together. In this last year he lost twin daughters an uncle and a grandfather.
As I was driving around I thought of G. I wonder if he would ever, ever recover from 2006. Whenever I think about him now, I cry. He wasn’t supposed to become a tragic figure. I wonder how a person recovers from losing twin daughters, babies they were, days old. Beautiful they were. Intensely beautiful babies.
How does life become happy again after that?
Our neighbors lost one twin daughter in a horse riding accident. They seem to rarely leave the house. J says that when something like that happens, it changes a person so that they always carry sadness and you have cut them a lot of slack. I am sure he is right.
Good night G, I still pray for you. It is all I can do.