3 Things That Helped Me Grieve The Death Of My Best Friend
It’s a slow Saturday night, the kind of night I would have picked up the phone and called my friend Mary to catch up. Instead, I’m searching for comfort through the pen as I sit with grief, remembering what I have lost.
As anyone can tell you, loss is never easy. We know some losses are inevitable as we grow up. Grandparents will pass, we will say goodbye to elderly neighbors, and one day, though we pray it is far away, we know we will tell our parents “I love you” for the last time before they enter Heaven. But it never even crossed my mind that, at the age of 30, I could lose one of my best friends.
Mary and I met 24 years ago on the sidelines of a soccer field in New Hampshire. It was nearly dark outside on a cold October night. I was waiting for my sister’s game to finish and watching a group of little girls my age running and playing nearby. I was an incredibly shy kid, but something came over me at that moment, and I stood up from the grass and walked over to the redhead who was clearly the leader of the group and asked, “Can I play?”
Mary said yes. Our friendship had begun.
We spent the next six years playing Barbies, climbing trees, having sleepovers, playing dress-up, and swimming in the cold New Hampshire lake across from Mary’s house. It was a Thomas Kinkade painting kind of childhood.