My Friend

From where you’re from, a friend is a non-blood sibling. Someone worth taking a bullet for without a thought, shy of where to jump so it gets only you. That means you chose them wisely. When you were abruptly uprooted to Wisconsin without enough notice to say goodbye to your well vetted friends, the contempt you carried was a visual taste of bile.

When we first met through our mutual friend, our worlds were quite far apart. I knew some of your family, but your last name wasn’t theirs so I didn’t know there was any relation. It went unknown until we visited your cousins after school about a month after we become friends. They lived close to us and I’d been acquainted with them for a long time. They were your family, but I related to you much more than them. It’s too bad some of your family was nicer to me than you, their own flesh and blood.

We were both outsiders without much confidence, yet oddly comfortable enough in our skin to stick to our convictions without compromising for more friends in school. You were an easier target despite how intimidating you were. We were deeply wounded emotionally but for different reasons.

The kinship and trust was there from the outset and carried us through high school from the freshman we met as. There were times we were at odds. Honestly, I forgot most of why we were, except for having a crush on your sister, then cousin a year or so later. But there were many sleepovers and wonderful times had that I still fondly look back on.

We always knew the friendship would survive post high school, and it did for a long time. When we had our ups and downs, our truce was always wrestling. Whether it was watching it or in your back yard for your own “promotion,” we all got a kick out of performing in for your little camcorder with our multiple characters.

We’d run to and from different iterations and heights of ropes, limited by the trees and clotheslines and the slight hill, performing all our favorite wrestlers' moves and some of our own. We strutted to the crooked square through hung up bedsheets to music we picked out for our characters.

Tempers rarely flared and we only hurt each other when it was planned, which was you the majority of the time. You allowed a steel chair to your head, and one time went through a flaming table with thumbtacks. I still feel bad I missed dousing your back with water, prolonging your selfless pain much longer than you deserved it to be.

When we got old enough, we’d go out drinking. You were one of my favorite drinking partners. We'd play our favorite songs on the jukebox and sing out loud to the chagrin of the other patrons who were there to have a drink, perhaps with other intentions. All we needed was each other and some beers, food, and music, and some dice if we felt adventurous enough.

There was the time I was going on a trip across the country. For the fear of the something going awry, I wanted to do something brave I’d never done before to somehow salvage my short life. The night before I left, we watched a show from one of my friend’s bands. I ran into so many people I’d not seen in years, leaving you ignored; you offered your loving patience while feeling much different in your heart: your familiar emotional wounds.

Afterwards, we went to a different establishment that had karaoke. I can’t remember whose idea it was. For years by that point we would always harmonize and sing songs while joyriding, so we were comfortable with singing in front of each other, me being the worse singer.

At the karaoke place, I got over some stage fright to perform “Enter Sandman” on the grand stage of that small place. I knew I wasn’t very good, that I was a much better drummer than a singer. I never had played drums to anyone in public, shy of some friends coming over to where I lived to watch me play.

Karaoke was the next best thing to be able to say I played to a public audience of some sort. Your non-judging presence gave me the courage I was lacking. And when I came back from that trip, you were the only one I wanted to see first, so we hung out-happy I made it back safe.

The adult years gave us troubles too. When I was single, I saw more of my friends and life was good. When I was in a relationship, I saw less of my friends and life was still good, but it upset you because a romantic relationship shouldn’t always come before a friendship, especially one like ours. I let the pangs of not having enough of the love I needed early in my life haunt me, to the detriment of nearly every aspect of my life. Though those ladies filled a large void in me, you were right, and I am sorry for that.

I’m ashamed to say I had crushes on a couple of your ex-girlfriends. Your praise of them during the relationship had an effect on me in that way, just like your fandom of the Spice Girls years earlier. There was no malice on my part, and I still can’t explain more than just your sales pitches you didn’t know you were giving me. You were not happy about it and let me know about it.

The last two times we interacted was first at your grandpa’s wake. Luckily your cousin alerted me of it that day, knowing I don’t get the newspaper and that’s why I missed your grandma’s wake and funeral a year or so previous. I walked into the funeral home, nodded at the many people I knew but made a beeline for you so I could hug you as tight as I could.

I knew what your grandpa meant to you, and I wanted to give you my love and make sure you were okay. We went to your car for some shots of grandpa’s favorite liquor before the service started. I left from there because you were all I wanted to see, and your well being was all that mattered to me. You said you’ve changed a lot and wanted to reconnect.

The next week saw us as the sole muscle to help a mutual friend move into their new apartment. We had fun, but the person I saw that day was one that didn’t change as much as he said, so I decided not to contact you further. And I never have heard from you again either, directly or through our many people in common, besides returning some borrowed items back to you.

A little over a year ago I was in a town nearby where you live. I don’t live there anymore but live close enough to frequently make the drive to see friends and family. I had to get something at Wal-Mart on the way to an appointment and was on a tight schedule. After I got the item, I was walking back to my car and saw a familiar figure. It was you. You didn’t park close enough to me to know it was me, but maybe you saw my car and went further away. To this day I don’t know if you knew it was me or not. I look different these days than the last time you saw me, so maybe not.

It wasn’t till later that day when I realized it was your birthday. I recalled the look on your face. It wasn’t a happy look, so perhaps life wasn’t going so well. It was also early in the day and maybe that contributed. Your apparel was some sweat pants, so perhaps you just had something to quickly get as well. I don’t know, but hope to know.

Since then, you’ve had another birthday. And it’s been on my heart for a long time now to reach back out to you. We did grow apart over the years in many ways, but I’ve never stopped loving you like a brother or caring about you. Now in our late 30s, I want to reconnect just to know you're okay.

Though I miss you, I'm not sure if a friendship can work with how we grew apart years ago. If you don’t respond, I want to honor you and our friendship with this public post so the memories we made can live forever. I chose to highlight only a few of the ones that stand out to me for the sake of brevity and for us to further reminisce if you choose to reconnect.

As I illustrated, I wasn’t always the best friend, but I know I was pretty damn good most of the time. Nobody knew you better than me in those years. Hell, maybe I still do. The times when we had deep and painful talks, of holding each other as we cried through the pain, or making sure we didn’t choke on our vomit when we’d had too much to drink; those will never leave my memories. You are a great but flawed man, just like any other person. I miss you.