It’s been almost four years exactly since we last spoke. I’ll never forget the conversation or how I felt after that last text message. My already broken heart found itself shattered once more in the pit of my stomach. A feeling I never thought I would feel again, that is until I read your blog.
It’s weird. Reading your thoughts, hearing your voice in my head, seeing the person you’ve become. But not really knowing anything about your life, not the way I once did anyway. In all this time I never thought past those last few months. Never thinking of what you went on to do after you moved out.
The loss of our friendship has echoed throughout these four years. Every big moment I’ve relived the loss when calling you pops into my head to share news but knowing I can’t. That I shouldn’t. I successfully suppressed the urge to do so, which we both know for me is pretty shocking.
The worst was the day we found out we were pregnant. I remember coming out of the bathroom, telling my mom and reaching for the phone to call you and realizing I didn’t even have your number. My stomach dropped and I played it off by calling someone else. And for the rest of my pregnancy I would have this weight in my heart with your name on it.
Our first OB/GYN appointment, Carlos and I were in the waiting room and I saw a woman sitting in the waiting room with her best friend shooting the shit. Both of them talking about baby names she couldn’t use because of people they hated. I started thinking about names, laughing at all the ones I couldn’t use, wishing I could share in that with you. I’m pretty sure I started crying in the waiting room, Carlos completely clueless as to what was going on with me.
At the same time some girls we went to high school with got pregnant too. Posting pictures of their bellies and besties. The baby shower pictures were the worst for me to deal with. Seeing girls that had been friends just as long as we had sharing this huge moment in their lives together. Picturing what it would have been like had you been in my life still. Made-up memories of us shopping for baby clothes including but not limited to ironic onesies and adorable footie pajamas.
In my mind I always knew you hadn’t thought of me. Because, well, I was your best friend. I knew how you thought. If you missed me, you would have reached out. But you didn’t. So I didn’t.
I always hid my sadness with anger. I was always so angry at you. Whenever anyone mentioned you my blood would start to boil. I didn’t want to talk about you. I didn’t want to relive the good times because I didn’t want to have to relive losing you. I wanted to forget you. But I couldn’t. You were everywhere and nowhere. But you know what they say, “El odio ama mas que el olvido.”
I started to forget memories of us together. I was in the kitchen with Carlos tonight and I said to him, “You remember that time we were in the field at Coral Way making out? Before we were officially dating?” And he responds with, “The night so and so jumped all over your car because they thought we were in there?” I had totally forgotten that half of it until he mentioned it. It stung a little.
There are parts of you embedded in my soul. I will always carry you with me, whether I want to or not.
I hope you know that I miss the good times. I miss the version of you I knew and look forward to reading about who you are now. Who knows where life will lead us, a part of me wonders if we’ll ever rekindle our friendship while the other knows better. Thanks for the memories little one.
Momma in Uruguay 