Mourning the loss of a friend

Even we introverts like to have a few friends, and it appears that I have lost one.

Someone I've known for more than 30 years essentially "broke up with me" a few days ago, and I'm still sad and reflective about it. (The ultimate proof of this demise: my Facebook friend list appears to be one name shorter.) And, if I'm honest about it, I'm maybe a little angry, too.

Near as I can tell, the issue, in his mind, was that at a key point in his life, several years ago, I was too cold and judgmental toward him, and that in recent years, I was way more into me than I was into him--that is, I loved to call and talk about myself but didn't show enough interest in the joys and sorrows of his life. In the end, I have to say, point well taken. For the most part.

There are some mitigating or complicating factors. An odd feature to this relationship is that in the last 20 years, I've probably made at least 500 personal calls to him, while he's possibly made one or two such calls to me. Really. After a while, you begin to wonder who's really interested in whom. And yes, I liked to share personal stories--you know, good, bad, funny, or strange stuff that was going on in my life. But the idea that I had no interest in his life whatsoever is ridiculous on its face. Maybe I didn't ask enough questions, or the right questions, but I did ask them, more often than not. Also, I always just assumed that part of friendship is simply reciprocal storytelling--I tell you my stories and you tell me yours. If he had wanted to read me the yellow pages, I would have listened. And if my calls to him seemed like egotistical babbling, all it would have taken is a few calls FROM him with the desire to tell me a few more of HIS stories. He could have asserted who he is rather than spending what turns out to be several YEARS in quiet passive-aggressive resentment. Well, at least I know why my last two lunch invitations were met with such indifference.

The other thing that is painfully clear to me is that when you have issues, then you have a responsibility to raise them--and for me to learn in 2011 that he had an axe to grind from maybe 2004 or 2005 (can't remember the year--it's been so long that this is an estimate) is at best unfortunate and at worst unkind. Jeez, we could've talked about this stuff; we really could.

And so I am left to mourn the loss of this friend--someone who has meant a lot to me over the years. I wish him the best and hope that maybe someday all of this will change.