Editor’s note: I wrote this a while back on a different blog. Since that blog isn’t self-hosted I figured it is safer and smarter to put a copy here to protect it.
One of the strangest things to happen me was to realize that what I missed most about Ann was her friendship. It might sound silly to some of you but you have to understand that itÂ surprisedÂ me.
Surprised me because I have been blessed with many friends who are the kind of people that others want to be. Stalwart companions that you can always rely upon. They come through when times are hard and are there when times are not.
They arenâ€™t the fair weather sort and that is something that has always touched me and been a source of pride too. If you wanted good role models you would find them among my crew.
I mention this because had you asked me what I thought I would miss I probably would have listed other things than her friendship, but maybe it is a sign of maturity now that I donâ€™t list the â€œx-ratedâ€ material first.
Ann was my best friend. She knew me in ways that no one else ever has and maybe no one ever will. There was a depth to our friendship that you rarely if ever see and that was what everything else was based upon.
We liked each other. We made each other laugh. That is one of the things that I miss about her, that laugh. Or the sound she used to make when I would surprise her, the way she would suddenly inhale. I sometimes called her â€œairsucker.â€
People used to remark upon it because they thought it referred to something else and I used to just laugh. I never said yes or no, never told them whether they were right because it didnâ€™t matter.
What I miss is the way she and I were able to create our own world. We could be in the middle of a crowd and get lost in each other. It wasnâ€™t something that disappeared either. There was never a honeymoon stage. The lust and physical need for each other never disappeared or dissipated.
Looking back I attribute that to that friendship and to the enormous trust we had. I miss talking to her about everything. It sounds silly, but if she thought I could do something it always gave me a little boost, a lift.
And that comes from someone who hasnâ€™t ever lacked confidence in his abilities.
Maybe that is why I am so torn. Maybe that is why I have this stutter/start thing about trying to reconnect and rekindle.
There is this part of me that wonders about a million things. I have this image of seeing her at the office. She is downstairs eating lunch under a bright blue sky. I walk over and sit down next to her. We donâ€™t say anything and just eat our lunches.
We finish eating, stand up and walk away holding hands- no words have to be spoken because that magic connection has never left. There is a part of me that consistently wonders what would happen if I kissed her. Would that electric feeling shoot through my body again.
I know what my heart says, but my head says donâ€™t be a fool. Donâ€™t write these things down because you sound crazy. Donâ€™t open the door and donâ€™t look back.
But you donâ€™t become a writer unless you know how to dream. And the very best dreams come from the heart- source of passion, power and magic.
For now weâ€™ll wait to figure out whether to follow my heart or listen to my head. But Iâ€™ll admit that sometimes in the dark of the night when I stare at our moon I say her name out loud and strain to hear her saying mine back.