I had taken time out from writing my mentoring blog due to being slammed with work and with my life! Having a bit of time this weekend, I picked up my 'pen' to continue the blog, but this is what came out instead.
It's a very personal view of friendship and what it means to me (a lot, apparently). Anyway, no work mentorship or particular career advice in this episode, but maybe there's something here that will resonate with you,
When I first moved to Sydney from Perth in my early 20s, I knew exactly two people. Coming from a close family and a large group of much-loved friends, I experienced real loneliness. The value of friendship was never clearer to me. It forced me to make friends quickly, and not just fast, but many I made were deep and long-lasting. In fact, I'm still good mates with my very first 'Sydney' friend almost four decades later. Since then, some have fallen by the wayside, but most have been a constant source of love and comfort.
It's safe to say that I love and adore my friends. All my friends.
As a kid, we moved a lot and lived in the country, so my very first friends for most of my childhood were my brother and sister. Then there are my Perth friends, who knew me just when I began understanding myself as a young adult. It was all surf, sand, and the Sunday session at Steve's. I still love going back to Perth and catching up. Conversations pick up where they left off, wonderful memories are excavated, and time seems to stand still. I'd swear it was all yesterday if it wasn't for the wrinkles and grey hair.
My early Sydney buddies and I experienced the best of times when Sydney was a hedonistic music haven, and we dived into it all with gusto. Music was king. If we weren't seeing it or dancing to it, we were playing it or working with it. I can't help but look back with a smile and with thanks that I got to experience such an incredible time with such amazing people.
Many of my now close mates I met through work. We bonded over slogging our guts out, creating and achieving what looked like impossible goals and doing it all with unlimited passion! Sometimes we tripped, but most of the time, we triumphed. Either way, we had each other's backs, which makes for the best of friends. So does laughing together. I remember times when there was so much laughter to the point of tears and being unable to breathe. The absolute communal joy in each other's company!
Of course, the nature of friendship varies. They are like an eclectic but well-loved wardrobe. You have your sparkly friends who are awesome for a night out. In fact, just being near them makes your world brighter! You have the friends you need when you're feeling blue. They are brilliant at listening, giving advice, and holding your hand; you always walk away feeling better. There's usually a couple with whom you share a specific interest, a passion you both love participating in and talking about. Then there are your solid, dependable mates. No matter what's on the cards, how you're feeling, or how long it's been between drinks, they are there for you...and you for them. Sometimes, good friends are all of the above!
If you're really fortunate, you have at least one or more super special friends. The ones you connect with on every level - intellectually, creatively, emotionally, and even ethically. Your humour, interests, life goals, concerns and, most importantly, your love and respect for one another are all in sync. You share something that feels rare and precious because it is. These friendships can be deeper than a blood connection and stronger (or at least equal to) how you feel about your spouse.
Over the past sixteen years, I've had several close mates die who were in my eclectic wardrobe. It's as devastating as losing an immediate family member. Each one seemed worse than the last. The nature of grief is that you don't get used to it. It seems to accumulate, building up a bit more each time.
Six months ago, I suddenly lost one of my super special friends, and I'm not coping very well with his death. There's no traditional way to act or acknowledge how you, as a best friend, handle the devastation of such a loss. Craig was more than a bestie. He was also my creative soul mate. We met while working on an incredible project and continued that partnership for the next 22 years. Someone said to me when he died, "How lucky are you to have had a best mate and a creative partner in crime? Some people don't have even one of those; you had both in the same person." That comment resonated with me no end. I WAS so very fortunate. Just not lucky enough to have him live for another twenty years.
The pandemic consequences of lockdowns and travel restrictions started my thinking about the people I love. How truly awful it was to be unable to see them when I wanted to, how much time was lost and how many occasions were missed. Like many people who go through trauma, Craig's death has made me focus even more on my friendships, the people in my life, and their importance to me.
All friends are precious. They are jewels in the crown of our lives. Each is a different story, some large, some small, a sparkle of bright colour, facets of our history, love, and experiences. Instead of becoming heavier, with the more we add, they become lighter, more brilliant, and more valuable. No wonder we feel the loss of one so keenly.
Mostly, I just wanted to say thank you to all my friends, old and new. Thank you for our shared adventures. Thank you for the outrageous moments, the big moments, the quiet moments, the important times, the times of so much fun, and the many incredible, wonderful, soul-filling experiences. Most of all, thank you for your love.
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