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A hard lesson on “friendship”
Car rides with mom and I are rarely dull. Between her recounting something funny my youngest son said or us laughing at daily observations, each ride is complete joy.
Every so often she asks about my childhood friend. Having grown up across the street from each other, our mom’s were like second mothers to us.
Our childhood to young adult years spanned all the phases. From riding bikes, playing board games to driving to the mall and giving birth to our first child.
Growth and time would separate us. Months, or a year would pass without communication. Out the blue we’d reconnect like Voltron cracking jokes and laughing our heads off at each others stories, as if no time was lost.
She was the person that got me, I felt. And I got her. We talked about everything, and in many ways were more close to each other than our own siblings.
Several years ago one of her elder sisters fell ill. Unfortunately, she’d succumbed to her illness not long after I’d heard the news. Myself and my mom attended her funeral. Six months later, her mom passed. Throughout it all, I was there for my friend in mourning. I felt like I had lost a mom too.
The month following her mom’s passing, she called everyday. And every day I picked up. Some calls lasted hours. No matter the length, I didn’t…
