There I was feeling all sparkly after yesterday’s Journey work and preparing for a long weekend in France with some girlfriends, when I read on Facebook that a friend of mine has died.
I had talked about him yesterday to the Journey practitioner. His sister committed suicide a few years ago and as a result, my friend started drinking himself to death. He’d been doing it most of his adult life to be honest, but things really picked up when he lost his beloved sibling.
They were an unusual pair. She was very new age, a beautiful, peaceful yoga teacher, while he was a stand-up comedian and a very good one too. He appeared to have a lot of confidence, while she was a quieter, more peaceful presence. What you saw on the surface clearly belied the deep pain beneath.
My first thought was to feel guilty. I haven’t called my friend for a while, mainly because our conversations had become torturous. He claimed to have his drinking under control, which would exasperate me. He also talked about how he was jealous of my husband and wished that we were together instead. It was never going to happen.
Guilt is so utterly pointless. And why would I want to be cruel to myself? I was as much of a friend as I could be. I couldn’t give any more. We were separated by the Irish Sea and while he only had his dog to worry about, I have a family who need me.
So here I am, back to bloody sad again. So fucking sad. I’m sorry you were hurting so much Jack and I am sorry I couldn’t help you. I love you dearly and hope you are now somewhere wondrous with your sister.
I welcome sadness today.