My Friend Just Lost His Wife

My high school boyfriend and I have remained friends. A few years ago, I visited him. After a fun weekend spent with him, his wife, and a few others we make plans to meet for brunch.

Our other high school friend isn’t feeling well that morning. Her boyfriend decides to stay with her at the hotel. This means brunch may feel a little awkward.

Or not.

My high school boyfriend and his wife pull up to the entrance of the hotel. I jump into their car. I can sense they’re feeling what I am feeling. Is this going to feel weird without our other friends as buffers?

“It looks like it’s just the three of us,” I joke.

The uncomfortable silence lifts.

We laugh.

The remainder of the ride feels as it has the prior nights. A few people who genuinely enjoy each other. It turns out we don’t need a buffer. The three of us converse seamlessly.

“I texted my other high school buddies that you’re my new BFF,” I say.

“Really?” says his wife. “That makes me so happy. I called my best friend this morning. I told her my husband’s high school girlfriend is my new BFF. She was like, really?!”

We smile at each other.

It’s a moment.

A wonderful moment.

Who knew five short years later she would be gone.

I’m fighting my emotions as I write this.

Tears make their way from the eyes that once smiled into hers. I’m grateful for the passage of time. It made women who once avoided each other mature enough to embrace one another…to like one another.

But these are selfish words.

It’s my friend who’s suffering.

He’s had no time to prepare for this unimaginable loss. His wife is diagnosed with cancer only five weeks before she passes away. I grieve for him.

“I’m so sorry,” I text.

“No,” he says. “I got to spend all of those years with the love of my life.”

His response does not surprise me.

It’s not just because I know she was the love of his life.

It’s because he’s meeting grief with grace.

He’s a big joy of life guy. He’s about God, family, and a bigger sense of purpose and the world. He’s positive, grounded, and grateful.

It makes it harder to see him suffer.

He’s determined to hold onto the good while experiencing the worst.

My heart aches for his children. I know what it’s like to lose your mother at a young age. I know what it’s like to walk among your friends who can’t fathom that loss.

The ones who have the luxury of decades more with their parents.

I can’t stop thinking about my high school boyfriend.

It’s not for the reason you think.

It’s not where you’re likely to allow your imagination to travel.

It’s true we have a bond.

It will never break. It’s why we have remained friends. He was good to me when I was far too young and immature to appreciate it. He forgave my childishness. I came to appreciate his maturity.

The reason I can’t stop thinking of him?

It’s hard to fathom that we both ended up alone at this age. We may be older but we are still too young to not have that someone still in our lives. Even more troubling to me is the reason for it.

I chose to be alone.

I chose divorce and the sense of loss that accompanies it.

He did not choose this.

He loved his wife. He wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. He was happy with her. He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t plan on this.

I feel worse for him.

I planned this phase of my life albeit unwanted…it was still my choice.

That’s why I can’t stop thinking about him.

Why does life happen this way?

Why does a man married to the love of his life lose her far too young? Why does he have to experience this unimaginable loss and grief?

Divorce is a true loss.

It is grief.

And not all of us choose it. It’s forced upon some of us. I acknowledge that because many people are blindsided by divorce and don’t want it. Their spouse is the one who does.

But true grief when you are madly in love seems worse.

It does to me.

Because I chose to be alone.

My friend did not.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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