A decade ago, I encountered a young woman named Mia. Initially, I had my doubts about her. I knew her through her roommate, and she had a quirky demeanor. At just 18, she left her hometown to move across the country to be with a boyfriend she had only known online for years. I only met him twice in the span of seven years.
Mia was a passionate vegan and an outspoken advocate for feminism and human sexuality. Her sharp wit could be disarming, yet her kindness and caring nature were unparalleled. We forged a close friendship; I even helped her secure a job at my workplace in eldercare. She quickly became a thorn in the side of management at the senior center, bravely exposing the sexual abuses faced by undocumented women in the care of their clients.
Her selflessness was admirable. I grew to genuinely care for her, and she became one of my closest friends. She stood by my side at my wedding, assisted me during significant life changes, and posed for my art.
In retrospect, I realize I may not have been as good a friend as she was. During that time, I was grappling with various challenges and leaned heavily on her support. Perhaps I overlooked her own needs, which she often placed behind mine. She was always there for me—helping me move in with my boyfriend, standing by me during his chemotherapy, and preparing for my wedding. She even assisted me again when I was six months pregnant with twins.
Then came the day I called to congratulate her on her engagement. To my surprise, she was furious. A list of grievances poured out of her mouth, many of which seemed unfounded. She accused me of criticizing her fiancé, claimed I had stolen a DVD, and remarked that she despised a portrait I had painted of her.
Sitting on my bed, I listened as she recounted my perceived faults. I apologized profusely, unsure of what else to say. When I asked how I could make things right, she told me to never reach out to her again. I complied, heartbroken, as she cheerfully bid me farewell and hung up.
Months passed as I adhered to her wishes, unfriending her on social media and removing her from my contacts. Every moment of it was painful. She was my friend, and despite her happiness, her request felt like a loss I couldn’t bear.
For the most part, I’ve honored that promise. However, when her new husband sent me a friend request on social media, I accepted. Even after four years, I find myself checking in on her from time to time. With social media making it so easy to keep track of people, I often see her name pop up and am reminded of all that we shared.
It’s fascinating how we can stay connected in this digital age. We can follow our friends’ milestones, from new jobs to family additions, and even feel a sense of community through shared interests. Yet, it also means that we remain accessible in ways we never imagined. Anyone determined enough can locate me just as easily as I can find old acquaintances.
I miss Mia. The ability to glimpse her life from afar makes my longing even more pronounced. I wish I could simply unfriend her husband and cease my silent observations, but a part of me clings to the hope that one day she might reach out to see how I am doing, or perhaps even click “like” on one of my posts.
Four years later, the ache remains. I still wish I could share my happiness for her and let her know how grateful I am she was part of my life. No matter what has transpired, my support for her endures, should she ever desire it.
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In summary, the bond we shared was profound, and even amidst the silence, the memories linger on. The complexities of friendships can shape our lives in unexpected ways, leaving a lasting impact that time alone cannot erase.