The Burden of Friendship

 A Heartfelt Reflection

Sometimes, I find myself questioning why I always answer when Benjamin calls. Our conversations don't bring me joy or fulfillment. It's more a sense of doing what is right, fueled by his insistence that I'm his only friend. But why do I feel compelled to be such a good friend, especially when it hurts, especially when Benjamin calls?

Our conversations usually revolve around his intoxicated attempts at humor, like a worn-out joke about being left unattended, yet again. We used to laugh about it and how Ben couldn't be trusted to stay out of trouble if left alone. His solo "parties" of drinking until he doesn't feel anything are harmless enough on the surface, but underneath, a troubling pattern of self-medication. 

But last night, Benjamin's call was different, he is scared and not sure about what steps he is taking forward. He talked about his job, moving to Phoenix, and being excited to be a father, how big his son is now, and even the name chosen. I wasn't surprised by any of it; I knew he'd do right by his new partner and their unborn child. Yet hearing it from him still stings. It's a bitter reminder of his evolving life since our break up.

He told me that at the end of this month, he will be getting married.  I struggled to find words and didn't say anything and my own emotions threatened to overwhelm me. I took a deep breath and managed a whispered acknowledgment of his apology, a feeble attempt to convey understanding amid my own turmoil.

When the call finally ended I was left feeling drained and emotionally spent. But then, a lifeline appears when I notice that Kevin is online and I reach out to him through a text message. Without needing to explain, his presence on the other end of the line offers solace, a sanctuary of shared silence and unspoken support. I value our long-lasting friendship over the years.

In those quiet moments, I'm reminded of the essence of true friendship. It's not about grand gestures or elaborate conversations. It's about being there in the silence, in the pain, in the moments when words fail us. It's about holding space for one another, offering comfort without expectation, and finding solace in each other's presence.

So, as I sit in the aftermath of Benjamin's call, I'm grateful for the bonds that sustain me, for the friends who anchor me in moments of uncertainty and sorrow. And though the burden of friendship may weigh heavy at times, it's a burden I carry willingly, knowing that in the depths of our connections, lie the seeds of healing and hope.