A friendship has died. I know many would view this as a trivial matter, but for me this has never been so. The bond of friendship is something very precious to me, for it is indicative not only of the usual banalities accompanying the definition of the term, but an implicit statement of mutual trust. For the benefit of those who do not know me, trust is something I view as the deepest and most honorable of commitments, and spend as the miser does his gold...sparingly, and only for those of great worth. Events of my youth conditioned me to guard my trust vigilantly, though I wish sometimes this were not so. Owing to this, the group of people whom I call friend numbers very small. Unlike some, I never viewed this as even the least bit negative. These few men and women...for them I would truly suffer. I would endeavor to take any problems they present to me, no matter how dire, and make them my own regardless of the cost. I do this for one simple, simple reason. Because I know that they would do the same for me. In many cases they have done so, as have I for them. That is, to me, the truth of friendship. Standing by someone when it costs you the most, because you know they would do the same.

I'm not a man of great words (ironic, for one with a blog, no?)...the best way I could describe what it means is to recall a scene from the movie Tombstone. After a somewhat intense firefight, Turkey Creek Jack Johnson asks Doc Holliday why he, being in such a grave condition due to advanced illness, still persists in risking his life for the sake of Wyatt Earp and his quest for revenge/justice.

Turkey Creek Jack Johnson: Why do you do it?
Doc Holliday: Wyatt is my friend.
Turkey Creek Jack Johnson: Friend? Hell, I got lots of friends.
Doc Holliday: I don't.

I can't explain it any better than that.

So, when something happens to disrupt that kind of bond...the wound runs deep. It is almost a loss of part of myself. Worse still....in searching my own conduct I can find nothing in my actions that would merit such a parting. Of course, this could simply be my own sentimental blindness at play...it will be difficult to reconcile myself to the concept that I will never quite know the truth. All efforts at communication with this person have been rebuffed. I will never know was it my own faults that caused this, or if I was wrong in placing my trust in this person. Now the memory of that person, and times spent with them, will always be stained with the shadow of severing. For that loss, and for the loss of that which I hold in most high esteem I shall raise a glass to my lips, silently grieve, and move on.

And always, always in the darkest corners of my mind will linger that stinging question, a deeply scarring reminder of a more troubled time...should I, when the time may come, again take those first steps towards friendship? Should I overcome the difficulty in giving trust and again reach out my hand? So easy would it be to type 'yes'...and so hard to know if that would be the truth...

To that person, I can only say this: Be well. Be happy. Live life.