I had a particularly vivid dream a few nights ago about an old friend with whom I’ve lost touch. For the sake of anonymity, I will call him “GW,” a tribute to my alma mater and NOT, as you may suspect, in deference to our current president. 🙂
I don’t know if I’m overly sentimental or what, but I have big problems with leaving things badly. My best friend from college and I rarely communicate, and it bugs the hell out of me. I think about her most days; today, for example, I was thinking about the video we made before Christmas break of our freshman year to show our friends and family back home what college life was like for us. It was soon thereafter lost, and whenever I think about what a terrible loss of history that is for me, it comes very close to physical pain. I would give untold treasures to have that video back.
There have really only been two others with whom I feel similar pangs of nostalgia… or is it melancholy? Maybe both. One is my dear friend E., who I at least still communicate with (albeit sporadically) by e-mail; my nostalgia with E. is different because it’s really one of the very (very) few things in my life that I regret, and will probably regret until my last breath. But we needn’t rehash that now.
The last one, GW, is important because he’s such an anomaly. We parted ways with the promise of remaining friends, and have been precisely the opposite ever since. I hate having this … this THING looming out there: the hurt, the sadness, the lost friendship. We were so close at such a pivotal time in my life, and that I’ve lost his friendship makes me immeasurably sad.
Yet, what the dream I had made me realize, for the very first time in the 10 years I’ve been battling this nostalgia, is that my pursuit of a better close (or an open-ended “till next time,” more likely) is completely insane. Normal people — people like you, I suspect — probably let go of past friends all of the time. It’s not normal for someone (like me) to be so doggedly persistent that I never be fully out of touch with someone. Yet I am, God knows why. From GW’s perspective, I’m probably akin to a freaking cyber-stalker. Every year or two I lob a, “Hey, you still there? How’s it going?” e-mail his way, and 75% or more of these have gone unanswered. Those that were answered were done so in the shortest of ways. And yet, this only seems to fuel my persistent insistence that I find some way, some clever turn of phrase, that will persuade him to reopen the lines of communication, and possibly, just *maybe*, want to be friends again.
I feel so foolish. This has nothing to do with rationality or even emotion within the bounds of understandability. It’s just ridiculous.
And yet, even as I recognize this about myself and admit my ridiculousness, I still hate knowing that I may never again see or have a conversation with someone who quite literally changed my life.