Loss

A week ago I lost someone very close to me. Not many get into my inner circle. It’s my own protective thing. Over the years I’ve learned that I’m very sensitive, overly so at times. And I’m done apologizing for it. It’s who I am.

Oh yes, loss. I spent many of my formative years without a positive male role model. It was hard. When I started my first part-time job at the beginning of my senior year in high school, that role model emerged. He recognized my intelligence, my rapport with customers, and he accepted me for who I was. I was given increasing amounts of responsibility and though I knew it wasn’t something I wanted to do for the rest of my life, I enjoyed going to work. I learned so much and it fed my curiosity.

This job also enabled me to pay for much of my college education before I had to take any loans. It enabled me to purchase my first junky car. Most of all it taught me responsibility, time management, and that I could believe in myself. My job was kept for me when I was ill with a horrible case of mononucleosis the second half of my freshman year of college. When a full-time worker was out of work for an extended period of time, I slid right into those hours and tailored my full-time class load to accommodate my full-time work hours.

My studies didn’t suffer nor did my work ethic. This individual was there as my sounding board and mentor, answering questions I’d have asked a father if I’d had one in my life. We spent a great deal of time working together and never lacked for conversation though our existences outside of work were very different.

Life changes, and they moved away from the area. It was a sad time for me to lose my friend but I also knew it was part of the life cycle. Time for me to get on with whatever was in store for me. Contact between us grew few and far between for a long period of time. The fact is, I knew there would always be someone at the end of the phone if and when I needed advice or support.

Time passed. One of my other close friends said she’d seen an obituary in her local paper, it was that of my friend’s wife. I felt the sense of loss and wanted to convey my condolences as I was taught to do. Doing some digging, I found a phone number and called. There was no agenda, just a warm conversation.

Eventually we decided to try “dating” or whatever you call it between seasoned adults. We had discussed the significant age difference and the possible reception by his grown kids and their families. I emphasized over and over that he tell them I had my own resources and had no designs on his. By now each of us was lonely in our own ways and it didn’t take much time to reestablish a once-close friendship.

From the start, it was easy to see his family was not going to accept a relationship between the two of us. They were somewhat pleasant to my face but I’m not stupid. I could see what the underlying feelings were. Though he was happy doing things with me, they would never be happy with the situation. It was felt I was treated better than his wife was treated. He was more freely affectionate. Those were his behaviors but I was blamed.

Long story short, I could see it would never work. Many other things factored into this decision but the facts remained I would never be accepted by his family. Only one of them tried to get to know me, as a person. There was never a problem accepting gifts from me, monetary or otherwise. If you don’t like me, why pretend? I’ve always despised that type of phoniness.

I’d spoken to him on the phone the day before he left us. We had a pleasant conversation. And that’s what I will remember. In the time of loss people should treat one another with caring and respect. The final act of adults was to omit me from mention in his obituary. Missing from the friends mentioned was one individual who had shared forty seven years of friendship. It was a blatant act of ill will and jealousy. I will continue to grieve and mourn the loss of my close friend. I will not cherish the memory of much of his family.