On Loss: How do you mourn what was but no longer is

When does warmth become cold? When do presents become past? Tell me, how does a friend become a stranger?

Photo by Kelly Sikkema from Unsplash

I spent the past few hours zooming in on an ex-best friend's studio shoots on Instagram wondering if I should declare myself and wish her Happy-whatever-the event-was. What if it makes my stalking obvious? Or if I should just mind my business.

There was a time I was part of these little feasts. Whatever the occasion, it was my business. We would have done the planning together. I would likely be the one behind the photographer taking phone pictures in case we're unable to afford all the poses. I would edit it and add it to our content creation reel. Now, I use ex to describe us. It's supposed to be for romantic couples. Those that used to be a thing and are no longer. It seems a little inappropriate here. Yet, it describes the same thing: what was but is no longer. A relationship.

I zoomed in on her face, her dress, her shoes, looking for traces of me. I zoomed in more on her hip, looking for the socket where we had been joined. The things we had in common. Do we still have the same taste? Would I have worn colours this bright and nails this long? Would she have worn it? Who rubbed off on each other more? We tend not to think of these things at that time.

Maybe I should just chat her up. Nothing spoil. Even if she is looking like a big shot here. I know her. I know her hair is destined to remain short even after we spent our entire pocket money on hair products. I remember her like we were: two confused teenagers rebelling against the adult’s world, determined to craft rules of our own. Had it swallowed her like it swallowed me? I should just find out for myself. I opened the comments section. There were a lot. And even more likes. I went back to the picture. I took in her face, its immaculate make up, the hair, no doubt a wig, the dress revealing everything without showing any. Is she still my level?

I zoomed in again, this time, looking for the traces of her, the one I knew. I thought her hip looked curvier without the extra socket. I let go. The picture returned to its normal size.

I hate that I don't forget. That I remember all my close-knit friendships. That memories of them randomly spill into my thoughts, uninvited. That my heart still grows warm at the thought of them. I hate that I am often the one making the effort. It makes me feel like everyone is moving on just fine, and I am here, stuck in the past. Well, if everyone is moving on, so should I. Determined to be one of them, I moved on, and scrolled past.

Unfortunately, I can’t do the same for my thoughts. They bring some kind of emptiness along with it, and more thoughts. The kind that makes me wonder, ‘when does warmth become cold? When do presents become past? And moments, memories. How do hills drift apart? How far can distance be stretched before it snaps and disappears into the horizon?’

I heard the earth was one many centuries ago. Just one big mass of land, until it began to drift apart. Till it became marked by bodies of water, visas and boundary lines. Is that what happens to humans too? Pulled by forces beyond their control?

But I am not a puppet at life’s strings. We have the willpower to make our choices. I go back to the picture and start to type. Too telling. I erase and start again. And again. What do you tell a friend that is no longer a friend? Maybe I should just be honest. I started, this time I continued. It was a long post by the time I was done. I found out that I had written to you.

How do friends become strangers? When does hii become history? How far can close go before you realize it is no longer close? How far can it be stretched before it becomes distant. And breaks.

Worse yet, what do you do with the broken pieces?