Sometimes it is too late

how to bear the point of no return

A few months ago I made a spontaneous public birthday wish:

After I typed it, I thought, “YES! That is what I want!”

How different it felt then what I would usually wish for.

A few hours later, in the middle of my perfect day (writing my novel in bed while sipping coffee) my phone rang. It was an old friend’s name on the screen, Anna. We had grown apart in the last fifteen years, and while we emailed from time to time, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d talked on the phone or seen each other in person.

She was once one of my heart sisters, someone I thought I would grow old with.

The reasons we grew apart don’t matter — small slights, hurt feelings, geographical distance, you’ve experienced them — what matters is I hid behind those slights and hurts because I was afraid to talk it out. Afraid to learn why she had distanced herself from me and to share how she had hurt me. The more time that passed, the harder it became. I didn’t know how to start.

In the seconds between seeing her name and answering the call, I felt such joy. “Now we can repair things, finally we can be friends again. We can start again. I have missed her so much.” I fully intended to live my birthday wish, open my heart, and stop being a little hard-hearted grudge holder.

It was not my friend calling; it was her sister. She had seen my birthday in Anna’s calendar and wanted to wish me a happy birthday.

My stomach contracted. I knew what she was going to say.

“You knew Anna died, right?”

You know those moments when you understand you can’t go back. The door is closed. You screwed up. The thud in your stomach, the ringing in your ears, the cry of “No, let me have one more chance!”

Anna’s sister and I mumbled through a brief, awkward conversation, me trying not to sob too hard. I didn’t want to make her think she’d ruined my birthday.

***

The irony of making my birthday wish and getting the news of Anna’s death wasn’t lost on me.

After some days, I wondered would I change? Would I live into my birthday wish or take this event as an excuse to continue to hide?

What work was I willing to do — and not do — to soften the part of me that gets hurts then puts up a wall?

I’m not ready to share what I’m doing except to say I’m still afraid but I also keep thinking of that moment when I learned I could never talk to Anna again. Never reconnect. Never repair.

The world crumbles and burns, so much being yanked from our grasp, and stomped on with steel-toed boots and pointless cruelty and unimaginable greed.

But we are still here, with our brave hearts. Maybe we can face into all this destruction as a call to save what we can. Personal matters as much as political.

We can keep extending ourselves to others with kindness. We might call the friend before it truly is too late.

In face of ugliness and hatred, we are (sometimes) called to our better natures.

It’s my hope, maybe my prayer, and it’s fine that I fail, as long as I keep trying.

God speed Anna. I miss you.

Love,

Jen