For years now I have been in a close relationship that recently had to end. It was time. We both knew it.
This friend and I had been virtually inseparable, and although it feels odd to say it, I spent more time with this friend than with my wife. (She knew about it and because of her equanimity and self-confidence, was accepting of it.)
There is no denying the strength of our bond; for years my friend was part of my highest highs and my lowest lows; I can’t imagine having gone through either of those extremes without the comfort of this relationship.
When the relationship began, it’s fair to say there was an initial period of infatuation bordering on romance. Then came a happy plateau when the relationship came to full bloom, and with it, a comfort level and ease that are hallmarks of an integrated relationship.
But, for a couple of years now, it has been evident that the friendship had run its course. Family members and colleagues (rightfully) pointed out that the relationship had become –not toxic, exactly–but borderline dysfunctional. Time and and soul-searching brought me to the same conclusion.
So, this past weekend, I ended it. There were no harsh words or an ugly scene–just a silent parting of the ways. So clear were the signals that it must have come as no surprise. Even so, I am still wistful when I look at a picture of a friend who for so long was so true.