A friendship fell away from my life last month. Silently, like a leaf wafting down to the grass. It’s someone I don’t know well, but who has been an acquaintance for several years in a professional capacity. A lovely person whom I like and respect. She’s important in my son’s life. Something happened, something he reported to me. He was upset, and I was confused and distraught. Trying to proceed rationally, I followed what I thought was the proper protocol to learn more. It was just before the holidays, and the people I approached didn’t get back to me right away. When they did, they didn’t grant my request that she be included in our conversation. Did she choose not to come, or was it logistically untenable?
A few weeks ago, my acquaintance unfriended me on Facebook. The 21st century’s “Dear John” letter. It didn’t surprise me, but I felt badly for both of us. What really happened with my son? My pediatrician expressed concern. Other advisers believed everything was fine. I found myself wading through a fog of unclear facts on a minefield of hurt feelings.
I advocated for my son. Crudely, gracefully, I don’t know which. It cost me a friendship. I hope not permanently, but that’s out of my hands. It’s a strange dance, acting on behalf of a little child. You are unequivocally his guardian, but have a limited ability to control outcomes. In bringing forth a life, one also faces death. Sometimes, just the kind of death that’s needed. The timely death of needing to be seen as right in the minds of others on all things. The noble death of being unable to act without complete clarity. The rightful death of being afraid to say “I see this and it stops here.” In exchange for these losses, I have been granted the honor of my children’s trust, and a growing reliance on my instincts.
My daughter, who is learning to read, sounds out new words with a concentration that quiets and awes me. My son presses the eyelids of his owl-clock and whispers “10, 11, 12…” as the hands click around its face. We are all learning in this house, each one of us.
To be ourselves causes us to be exiled from many others, and yet to comply with what others want causes us to be exiled from ourselves. It is a tormenting tension and it must be borne, but the choice is clear.
Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Goodluck with your friend and thank you for the quote. It will be added to as one of my very favourites.
Blessings to you….
Sometimes (always, really,) certain things are just of our hands, and it’s painful.
Our children need to feel confident that we will keep them out of harm’s way. “Harm” appears in many forms, and as parents, we must be ever vigilant for our children’s safety. Having to abandon one allegiance to uphold a greater one requires our greatest wisdom and summon of our moral core. I applaud your fortitude and fine sense of what’s right.
I have only had the experience of losing a friend harshly without children in the mix, but I know that pain well. A lot of it comes from the unknown, even if you have a clean break.
The best thing to do, I find, is focus that hurt on a new friendship. Distractions heal.