Well, the last… four days – wait, has it really been four days already? – since I’ve last posted have been very… busy, to say the least. I’ve spent a lot of really intentional – and rather ironically, if that’s the correct use of the word “ironically”, lots of unintentional time, as well – with friends that I haven’t really spent a lot of time with, and whom I probably won’t see a lot of for the next year, or so.
It’s been wonderful. I’ve had so much great time with people who have meant so much to me in my life, and with whom I have been grateful enough to see myself grow in the last few years of my life. But it’s so difficult to be okay, especially in moments of weakness, when one is alone with one’s thoughts – as I may or may not be now, in my room, doing laundry and writing a blog post– and still know that things are going to be okay. Truly, my heart breaks every minute that I think of the people whom I’ve gotten the privilege to love, that will no longer be so close as a 25 minute drive away, or waiting for a certain time of week, in a certain hall of a university, or even a simple lunch hang out in a Catholic Boys’ School’s Student Activities Center.
I miss my friends. I miss my loves, both platonic and not. I miss the simple knowledge that they carry warmth immeasurable, unquestionable, and so familiar. I miss their smiles, coy, selfish, childish, impish, bashful, playful, understanding, comforting, and friendly.
I miss laughter due to innuendos, Shakespeare, poop jokes, and all the like.
I miss them. So. Damn. Much.
But that’s okay. – That’s really, really okay. –
I guess that now, above many other times in my life, I have to understand that life is so difficult because it has reason to be difficult. I can’t understand that challenge, and I won’t tell myself that someday I will. Maybe one day I will have the tenacity to say I understood it, through some vain, thinly-veiled lie I tell myself to comfort the still grieving part of my soul. But that’s also okay. It’s okay to mourn, and grieve. I’d rather mourn and grieve the living, because they too are still alive enough to understand that it sucks, and it hurts, and there is anguish.
But, even in that anguish, I still feel God. Actually, I feel it more right now than I have in a while. I feel that, even though I would rather not be in this situation, the reality of facing my fears – the fear, specifically, of losing one of my closest, dearest, most important, impactful, fruitful, and beautiful friendships – has made me more… me.
I love these people, but I don’t intend to stop them from being the people God intends for them. Instead, I hope to do everything I can to support them. I know that they’re already doing the same for me.
They’ve already been doing the same for me. That’s God’s love. That’s true love. Thank you, true friends. Thank you, love.