visit my friend

It’s not that I haven’t visited a friend before, its just not my best friend. I am 13 years old and when I was 8, this girl, Nathalie moved to Canada from Belgium. We were best friends. She moved back 2 years ago and I really would like to visit her in Belgium!!!!!! Not only will I get to see my best friend, but I will get to see Belgium – somewhere I’ve always wanted to go!!!!

One of my friends was widowed this recent spring after over 60 years of marriage. I haven’t seen her since the week of the memorial. I want to go see her, I know she could use comfort and company. When I think about her, I feel: sad about her late husband, who was also my friend; ashamed of my own grief about three of our pet rats who died this year (it still hurts so much but seems so meaningless next to her loss); afraid of one day losing my own husband and being unable or unwilling to continue alone; guilty about not visiting sooner. To recap—sad, ashamed, afraid, guilty.

I’m sort of a leaver, a commitophobe. I’ve usually walked away from anything I didn’t know what to do about. The longevity of my marriage, my decent family relationships and friendships, are much more a testament to the patience and commitment of other people, than to my own steadiness in the long haul. But I can’t walk away from a blameless friend in the season of her need and still be the person I want to be. I’ve got to suck it up and phone her.