It was from my best friend from college, whom I have not seen and barely talked to in the last two years. The reason for that was because when my life imploded following my divorce, she got hit the hardest by the fallout. Things were said by me that I wanted to take back as soon as they came out of my mouth, but by then it was too late.
She was gone and while I had questions still lingering in my head ever since, I resigned myself to the realization that I would likely never get the answers.
I'd be lying if I say that didn't bother me, because I knew I needed them and in my view there was no harm in asking the simple question of "Why?" Why did this happen? Why did things get to this point and why can we not rectify them, rebuild and carry on?
Every so often, I'd think about reaching out to her and maybe trying to rebuild the bridge I felt I'd annihilated with my insanity, my anger and my high-octane emotions, but I didn't want to make things worse. So for the first of those two years, even though she was still in our college town, I stayed away. I hid. I ran. And I did everything I could think of to not make the situation any worse than it was, because I felt in my mind that any attempts to do would result in a catastrophic outcome.
Last night, however, I took a bit of a leap and sent her an email because part of my recovery involves addressing the things I'm most afraid of. Crazy at it may sound, confronting her and shedding my guilt about the loss of our friendship was one of those things. The thought terrifies me, because I know it would be a fine line I'd be walking between owning up to my mistakes and totally screwing things up again.
I didn't want to do that, but I know I'm also not ready to try yet, either. So I sent it with the understanding that when I was, I would do so and see what happened from there. The purpose was to establish a goal for me to reach in the near future, then hit it when the time was right.
There was no timetable for a response, saying only when she'd had time to consider it, to let me know. I expected with her busy schedule in grad school in my hometown of Boston, it would be a while and I was okay with that. The message was in the bottle and floating out to sea. Eventually, I would hope an answer would come.
I was pleasantly surprised that it came back this morning, but in no way was I prepared for what accompanied it.
In a nutshell, I was told that what happened wasn't entirely my fault like I'd convinced myself it was. That mistakes were made by both of us, misconceptions and assumptions were made, and she felt as terrible about the outcome as I did. Nine times did she say the words, "I'm sorry," and the reasons for each were both valid and poignant.
It threw me for a loop, I'll tell you that. It's not very often where I find myself completely off-kilter, not knowing what do to. But after reading for at least the sixth time in five minutes, I took inventory of myself and how I felt with that knowledge now firmly documented. I wasn't angry or resentful or bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic and anger and resentment are explosives. None of that was needed here.
I was happy, so much so that I nearly cried in the middle of my office. And I realized the only healthy thing I could do was tell her I understood where she was coming from, which I do. That I accepted her her apology and the reasons behind it, and that I forgave her in the hopes that we can put all of that behind us and start over from where we are at now.
Bridges are amazing things. They can span canyons, rivers, seas, and even nations. They can also stand up to a relentless amount of punishment and remain standing. And when they fall, we as humans can rebuild them even stronger and last longer, if we have the commitment and willingness to do so.
Will this bridge hold? I hope so. I've missed my friend and I love her very much. I just have to make it strong enough.
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