Letters from NYC

Requiem for a Friend

My post yesterday brought me back to a time when I first began to witness the first of many deaths in my life. The first being the relationship of my parents. By the time I was 14 the death of their marriage had turned into a festering cesspool of animosity, resentment and anger that made it a living hell to be exposed to and live with, let alone be caught in the crossfires. In retrospect, I now see that my parents had too much pain and anger from their own relationship, to realize they were hurting those around them.

Their behaviour caused me such unhappines that I just chose to withdraw from the world. I was only present in body, while my heart and soul were cloistered in the sadness of watching the self-destruction around me. My diary was my only and constant companion, my confidante and friend.

Shortly after the start of a new school year I found my saving grace, it was a new classmate named Myrna, who had the face of an angel, and the most kind and loving heart I have ever known. We first met when she was assigned a seat in front of me during World Lit Class. She was funny, witty, and irreverent, and had such a great spirit that it was very hard not to be immediately drawn to her. We had 5 out of 7 classes together in which I always sat behind her. As she used to say in those days to coax me out of my shell, ‘it was futile to resist her charm, as we were destined to be great friends, so I might as well give into it and start talking to her because otherwise she would spread vicious gossip about me and make my life a living hell for the remainder of the year’.

She said it with such a playful style that I couldn’t help but laugh at least a half hearted laugh. Whenever I did that she’d say, “that’s it? that’s all you've got” and she’d mimic my weak laugh in such a way that it would make me laugh harder. From then on we were inseparable both at school and on the phone.

As time went on, we became so close we intuitively knew each others thoughts without even saying a word. We just as easily finished each other’s sentences as we did each others’ french fries. Whenever she went away to visit family she would write long and outrageously detailed letters with outrageously exaggerated descriptions of everything around her. As she wrote about people she would always give me hysterical personality portraits on their character that made me laugh though she was a million miles away. My writing always paled in comparison to the wild creative fantasies she produced on paper. She was my first writing companion and friend.

She became my safe harbor in an otherwise empty and stormy life. A firm anchor that would not let me drift away into darkness or oblivion. With kind words, a caring spirit and great humor she repaired daily the damage caused from the storms of the night before.

One morning I caught her crying hysterically in the bathroom before school. Though she denied it was serious and made excuses, I still remember the gut feeling I had that something was terribly wrong. She would not tell me of her pain and I loved my friend too much to press her. Things changed drastically in the subsequent days and weeks thereafter.

As time passed she became quieter and more isolated. Eventually she became so withdrawn that she barely spoke a word to anyone. There were times that I could sense so much pain within her that all I could do was put my arm around her as we walked home. We often parted with barely a wave. I understood the sadness she was feeling, but found myself helpless to do anything to change it.

By semester’s end she was as lifeless as I had once been. I reversed our roles in the hope that something I might say or do would bring about the same transformation she had created in me. I did everything in my power to cheer her up, to try and help lift her spirits but nothing worked.

One day she came to me somewhat altered from what had now become her quiet painful usual reserve. It was then that in a barely hopeful but resolved voice she told me she was running away, that she couldn't take the pain she was enduring at home any longer. She then proceeded to reveal the living tale of her hell on earth. She pleaded me to go with her. I hesitated and saw her crushed spirit. I promised to give her an answer in a few days for there was much to consider and plan if I agreed; there was destination, transportation, money, and the question of what we would do to survive once we got there.

She was insistent that she could not live one more day in that hell. I was as persuasive as I could be, giving her an infinite number of alternatives. When those were shot down, and her inner light began to dim, I promised her we could runaway together as long as she waited 3 days for me to get enough money and time to come up with a plan for our escape. She reluctantly For the next 24 hours I prayed that I could come up with a better solution than escaping our mutual hells by running away.

That afternoon I left school early and walked the entire 10 mile stretch home. I needed time to think about what to do. Like her, I felt there was no one I could turn to with this, but decided it would be worse to stand by and do nothing.

The next day, as I sat down in my homeroom, I found an envelope with a letter taped to my desk. As I opened it I knew it was a letter saying goodbye from Myrna. I had failed to convince her to stay and wait for my plan. It didn’t surprise me when the principle walked into the room, just as I was finishing the letter. He wanted me in his office because Myrna had been found behind the girls bathroom at the end of the volleyball field. She had found her own solution to her problem, she had hanged herself.

A few days later I received a letter from her along with the little money she had managed to save for her escape. In her letter she begged me and made it her last wish that I would set myself free and “never look back”. The day after my high school graduation I took that money, packed my bags and left for Europe. Heeding her words I have never looked back, until now.

I have never had another friend or loved anyone as much as I did her. Others have come close but I’ve managed to keep everyone at bay. You see, I realized last night that all my life I’ve been repeating the same pattern since her death, never really letting anyone get as close to me as she was. If anyone did enter my life it was to form a small bond, one loose enough for me to slip out of if necessary and not experience loss, should they not be in my life tomorrow.

I realized that since the loss of my friends on 9/11 I have not made one single new friend. I believe it was an instinctual reaction to such an unnatural and overwhelming loss. The thought of opening up, of caring or loving another human being was at first too burdensome. My heart was just too heavy with grief. As the grief faded, getting to know people was intimidating and terrifying. What was I afraid of? I was afraid of suffering another loss and feeling more pain. I felt as if I had lost my universe when my friends past on, and when the pain began to ease I didn't want to risk opening up old wounds. So I chose to live in an isolated, reclusive world. A world that though lonely, would be safe from risk of any hurt.

That’s how I lived until I was adopted by the most unusual and wonderful family. My blog family and some very amazing bloggers. A most unlikely group of wonderful, funny, quirky and caring people I’ve met in a very, very. long time. Just like my dear departed Mike did so many years ago, my blog dad, Harvey, and Sgt Hook, each put an arm around me and took me under their wing to bring me into this wonderful fold of digital friendship. This was something I could manage, people being as close to my computer screen but not close enough to risk pain or hurt. In time, I grew fond of their playful banter, fell in love with the object of their love, cried over their losses, beamed over their new beginnings and triumphs and almost daily, laughed a laughter not known to me for years.

In the last few weeks there have been a number of bloggers who have reached out to me in sincere friendship. I have to say thank you for doing so, it has truly touched my heart immensely. In essence you have all had a part in healing my soul. I now realize I could have never extended my hand of my own accord.

Writing and acknowledging all this has been part of healing my past. I realized in writing this post that I never would have been able to move forward if I didn't look back to see where my fear had originally come from and what had been stopping me all these years. In these last few weeks you have all done much to coax me out of my shell, by trying to move me from the digital to the real world. It's still a scary proposition but your collective love is so undeniably strong that I would now be hard pressed to live without it.

Besides, I have no choice in moving forward. I realized that if I don't comply Harvey, Tammi and the rest of my blog family and friends would only pick me up and drag me kicking and screaming to the next comment party with or without my consent. And the alternative, tormenting me with endless posts that are full of vicious lies for all the world to see, is now the greatest horror I could ever me.

To those of you who have sent me your phone numbers, shocker of all shocker, I will begin to use them soon. No time like the present to take action on moving forward. Please bare with me while I gather my courage though, some of you are rather daunting in your digital presence, I can only imagine you in real life.

Thank you all for being a part of my life and supporting my transformation. I could not have started this journey without you.

Posted by Michele at April 1, 2005 12:01 AM