Never Too Late

I did something today (technically yesterday now) that I should have done a long time ago, much like I was righting an ancient wrong.

I have the tendency to make decisions, snap judgments, often times quick and final and without a chance for the second party involved to state their case. And much like Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice, I've prescribed myself to the theory that my good opinion once lost is lost forever. How presumptuous of me ...

The truth of the matter is I threw a perfectly good friendship under the bus, rather than stick the problem out and work for a resolution. I hid my own blame and placed it all on my friend and stood by and watched as the gossip mill made her their sacrificial lamb, because I was hurt and because I thought that I had been betrayed in an et tu Brutus sort of way.

But I was wrong. And when I should have been there sticking up for my friend, I was as silent as a coward intent on hiding their own guilt, proving myself the worst friend imaginable. Ashamed of my own behavior.

Next to Brenda, Ren had been one of my closest friends. We were like sisters. I was the cringing wall flower, she was the crazy live on the edge party girl. I was sensible, she acted first and thought later. I was living like a hermit, and she forced me from my comfort zone. I had bad ideas, she often times had much worse. But together we were hilarious, downright silly, much like school girls.

But a boy completely fucked that up. A boy and a mean crazy bitch with her own agenda that I bought into. Hook ... Line ... And sinker. And I sunk my friend with my silence, when even the merest hint of my support might have been able to balance out the situation and change it from the ugliness that it was.

But then I got the call at work telling me that my gramma was in the hospital and all other thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind as I packed my car and drove all night to get to Tennessee where my father waited for my sister and I to arrive, only to tell us that we were too late.

My world stopped, leaving me in deep despair. And I was angry. Raging at God as I screamed at the heavens. Unable to think of anything other than my loss. Unable to come to terms with my grief. And unwillingly to listen to anyone at all.

If I were Ren, I wouldn't want to have anything to do with me. I'd write myself off so fast, that my own head would spin. But even back then, she forgave me. Even when I turned my back on her and hurt her by withholding my friendship. She maintained hope that I'd change my mind, or at least come to my senses. But I can be one stubborn bitch sometimes. And of all the words in my vocabulary, and in the words of Elton John, "Sorry seems to be the hardest word."

Ren ended up leaving her job, practically shoved out the door by the moral majority to tell you the truth. She didn't deserve it. But the few friends she did leave behind would often tell me when they had seen her in passing, or had heard some sort of word from her, that the first question out of her mouth was always, "How's Stacey doing?"

I honestly can't imagine what kept her holding out for so long. But she did, and with the go ahead signal from "T" - who has been urging me to mend the breach for more months than I can count - I received a testing the water email Friday at work. I sat there at my desk somewhat stupefied, unsure of what to do. On one hand, the moral majority still reigns the roost and any contact implied or otherwise would assumably put me on their radar once more, something I can do without. But on the other hand, with the knowledge that only time can teach, I recognized an olive branch when I saw one.

And so I reached out, sending back a simple email of my own.

You? Me? Coffee? Saturday? When? Where?

Have you ever been away from someone for a really long time and then met up with them again only to feel as if you were never separated at all? That's exactly how it felt today. Just like two friends getting together for a casual lunch as if it had only been a few minutes since the last time we'd talked.

If I had known, if I had only known how much I missed having her around, I would have come to my senses much sooner and not wasted so much time holding on to an anger that didn't have to bear fruit. And I told her that, told her I was so sorry and asked if she could forgive me. And she laughed when I said that, the sort of laugh Christopher Robin reserved for his friend when he said, "Oh Pooh. You silly old bear."