October 8th, 2022
I had a friend.
We knew each other for quite a while. We worked at the same place for many years. We knew each other’s families. We shared our struggles and concerns. We used to meet regularly, or at least talk on the phone. I liked the man, and I admired his musical talent. He was, and probably still is, an excellent blues guitarist. I cared about him, and I treasured friendship.
About a year and a half ago, shortly after Karin and I started caring for our little grandson, Asher, the relationship I had with my friend ended. It ended abruptly. He hung up on me during a phone conversation, and then I never heard from him again. He wouldn’t return my calls or answer text messages. For all purposes, he ceased to exist as part of my life.
I tried to regain contact with him, but I never received any response. I have no idea what I did to alienate him. I don’t know why he severed the connection. Very possibly, I offended him, and perhaps he is right to ignore me now. But I don’t know that. I don’t know what happened.
Two days ago, I visited another friend, a fellow writer, and we talked and drank beer at his house for a couple hours. On my way home, I drove in the vicinity of the home of my former friend, the one who cut me off. I impulsively drove to his house and rang his doorbell.
His daughter came to the door. She must be in high school now. She looked at me and said,
“My dad is at work now.”
I told her, “Okay. Tell him that I love him.”
She gave me a funny look and asked, “Are you okay?”
I gave her an honest answer, “No, I’m not okay. Just tell him I love him anyway.”
I turned and walked away. I drove home.
I have not heard anything back from my old friend. I don’t expect to hear anything. It was pointless to go to his house. I’m not sure what I wanted there, maybe a reason, maybe some kind of closure.
I guess I just wanted to tell him, or tell somebody, anybody, that I still cared about him.
I needed to do that.