Disagreeable... Sad... and Fortunate?

Dear Friends;

I just had my first fight with my best friend. And it feels awful. The weight of it feels awful. My stomach is all twisted up in a tremendously complicated pretzel. I hurt. And I ache. But mostly I hurt because he was hurt. I ache because 3,000 miles makes it impossible to reach out and embrace the person I love most at this moment.

And the words “I am sorry” are incomplete. Because while I am sorry that it happened, and I am sorry that I hurt someone who has been nothing short of spectacular, I am not sorry for anything else. I would not take anything back. Or undo things. I learned that this incredible person is greater than I thought him to be. He is kind and gentle while he is not budging an inch. He is logical and thoughtful while we are circling round the same point for far too long. He is honest and communicative, it was he that pointed out the obvious while I was caught up in emotions no less than the depth of his. He was diplomatic, trying to see the other side, while I was stuck firmly planted on mine, not willing to budge an inch. He was brave, for I do not back down anymore. I hold my ground, even when it seems that there is no longer any ground to hold. And he is supportive because all he wanted was to hug me. And I was not the only one hurting.

When it comes to the art of war, I have discovered a formidable opponent. And while war of any kind is a bad thing in the book of my heart, it is also vitally important to make sure that if battles must be fought, that they are fought fairly. I am headstrong and stubborn and not at all graceful in times when I feel backed into a corner or pressed up against a wall. And the discussion of such occasions only brings up those ugly emotions and others right along with it.

This time, after sleeping on things, I feel worse, rather than better. I had lost sight of some important things while carrying around a hefty weight of anger. I had chosen to forget the good things that came from a bad situation because the disappointment was easier to cling to, and the good was so unforeseen and unexpected that I allowed it to fade away as an exception. And that was a disservice to the good.

So sorry is not enough. It seems like it never is. And while I profess to never forget or forgive those rare things that cross lines I find beyond acceptable. I think it is time to figure out a way to let things go. To move past it all. Is that possible? To let go and move to the side to brush past the ugly when it is staring you in the face? To not forget, but to let it lie in a deep hibernation, only to be called upon if vital to survival? Is it possible to forget and remember at the same time?

Now it is time to go and send a message to my heart in the form of my best friend. It is time to thank him for reminding me of what is important, and what is more important than that.