The Slow Fade of Lost Friendships

I remember being 15 and experiencing the pain of "breaking up" with a friend. It was a sharp disagreement about something unimportant, followed by angry words, silence, and then the realization that we had officially "broken up". It was sad, and I regret not making amends when I could. When I think about it, it was my anger and unforgiveness that led to the end of our friendship, and I wonder how things might have been had I chosen to let the slight slide off my back, instead of reacting so hotly, and then so very coldly.

As an adult, though, I no longer "break up" with my friends. Instead, friendships that were once so very important to me simply fade away until there is nothing left at all, except maybe the odd comment on our Facebook pages. The reasons, of course, vary.

One friend ceased calling years ago when I stopped going out on the weekends with her. She and I were tight, when I wasn't living out my faith like I should have been. She had this warm, fun, sexy personality, and I felt free and confident and happy just being with her. She was, at the time, my closest girlfriend, and I loved her. I was heartbroken when I realized we just weren't friends anymore. We tried, once, when I was on my mat. leave, to imagine we were still friends - we hit the beach together, in our two-pieces with our cameras and sunglasses and oversized beach bags. It was fun, but artificial, and we didnt' try again.

Another moved to a different province, and no effort was made on either of our parts to stay in any real kind of touch. This girl has this amazingly sharp wit: Few people made me laugh like she did - and still does, when we interact via, of course, Facebook. I love her still. But we're not truly in one another's lives any longer.

Another became a stay-at-home Mom, and made all sorts of new stay-at-home-Mom friends, who just had more in common in terms of lifestyle, interpretation of faith, and children's personality (even though our girls are only a week apart, they never really played very well together). And so she stopped calling and accepting invitations out. And to be honest, I think, when we were still making an effort to connect, I was a little condescending about her beliefs and a little boring to be with, too. We just lost all things in common, perhaps.

Another is in the process of fading, well on its way to oblivion, in fact. I can feel it coming; phone calls and text messages aren't returned for weeks, plans are frequently broken, and our conversations are stilted and forced. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. Sometimes, I'll try to remember a time I might have offended her or disappointed her or hurt her feelings. But in reality, I think it's just the busyness of our lives and the fact that, when life is so busy, time can only be stretched so far. And some people just don't make the cut. And in this case, it's me. And it's disappointing and sad - but not entirely unfair. I mean, we were friends as kids, and maybe it just isn't translating so well into adulthood.

When people matter to you, no matter how busy life is, you simply make the time. That's just the way it is. I know. In the close friendships that I am blessed to still have, we are all so busy we can barely breathe: but somehow, we still connect. Whether it's going out for dinner once a month, catching a movie once in a blue moon, or hanging out twice a year, we stay connected through sheer force of will. We text or call, we Facebook Message or Email. We make an effort to at least personally communicate, even when we can't physically find the time to be together.

The older I get, the more people I seem to lose through neglect, or polite distance, or hurts unspoken. And I wonder if I should fight the loss more: Do I double my efforts to hold on to the fading friendships, or do I accept the fact that we only have so much time to go around, and to spend this precious time on people who we no longer really know is not a worthwhile endeavour at all?

I don't know. But this I do know: I know I'm thankful for my current friends and I hope every day that they know how much they mean to me. I am also thankful for the friends that I have lost: thankful for what we meant to each other once, thankful for the memories I have because of them.

Ms. Alyssa, Novelist

November was National Novel Writing Month and, as a high school English Teacher, I agreed to take on the challenge - and I succeeded. 50 000 words later, NaNoWriMo is done at last. It was done, in fact, 2 weeks ago. I am, however, still recovering.

It turns out writing a novel is no small feat. It feels great to have finished it, but I'm so behind in all other areas of my life, I'm not quite sure it was a wise decision to embark on the task. On the plus, it modeled a dedication to my craft to my students, and encouraged two grade 9 students to work together to write their own - and you should see how proud they are of their accomplishment. I also really like my piece, although it's rough, at best.

Of course, in order to get this done, I neglected my friends, family, schoolwork, blogging, and self for the large part of November - and I'm still paying for it now. My stack of marking makes me want to cry, I've been logging major husband time of late, and I count myself among some of the worst friends. I also still somehow have Christmas shopping to do!! But, as the new year approaches, I'm happy to have a list of new resolutions I can make - like keep up on marking, for instance. And don't write any more books.

Anyway, I'm off to tuck my little girl in for her nap and tackle some essays on To Kill a Mockingbird, followed by a class set of tests, and then a different set of essays on the Screwtape Letters. And to remind myself that, of course, it was all worth it. After all, I'm a novelist now, right?