Losing Your Best Friend: The Real Long-Term Effects

No matter how strong a person or their family ties are, a relationship such as the one between two best friends is irreplaceable. At no time is that more evident than when your best friend is no longer there.

Some of my most loyal readers know of my relationship with my late best friend, Steve. We didn't become close until later in life; his brother was closer to my age, and he and I went to school together. But somewhere circa 2015, Steve and I began sharing our love of music with weekly karaoke outings. He helped me discover my passion for a wide range of music and an apparent talent for singing.

Every Thursday, we would meet at one of our local bars, conveniently located directly across a set of railroad tracks from where I worked. I was initially nervous, having never performed in front of a crowd save for a couple of choral concerts in high school. Week by week, however, I grew to love it and look forward to Thursday every week. That was thanks in no small part to Steve.

As time went on, our friendship became more than weekly karaoke outings. We began spending whole days together if we could, and even a couple of weekends when we could go three hours north to visit his wonderful family. It became tradition to go out to eat together at least once a week aside from the karaoke nights. The karaoke nights often gave way long heart-to-heart talks over Kwik Trip sandwiches and a smoke sitting in his old Buick and later his Dodge truck. Steve very quickly became my sounding board. Anything I needed off my chest, he was there for me.

Around 2018, Steve and I began spending less time together. He was in a relationship, and I understood the time commitment that entailed having been the one of us that was in the relationship more than the other way around. I didn't think much of it then, but not having those regular talks with him, regardless of the circumstances, was beginning to take a toll on me. But being the understanding friend I've become known to be, I kept things to myself. I had no idea the effect that decision would have on who I am today.

August 3rd, 2020. It was a Tuesday, but I was on vacation. I had found out a week earlier that Steve had been in the hospital in a coma for roughly two weeks. But shortly after 7am that Tuesday morning, my world would be turned upside down in a way no global pandemic could accomplish. My best friend was dead.

I tried to be strong. I knew that's what Steve would have wanted. But I think he knew me well enough to know the wall would eventually come crashing down, and boy did it ever. I hadn't cried like that in years before that day and haven't to this day since. Part of me felt bad for losing control of my emotions that day. I know Steve would have wanted me to be strong, stoic as I had always been in any other crisis we went through together. I'd like to think he understood though. What hurt the most was the fact we hadn't seen each other in over three years at the point he passed away, and that it was almost entirely my fault.

As most of you may know. I was also in a relationship at this time. It just so happens that Steve's girlfriend and my now ex were best friends at one time and had a falling out. It was widely known to everyone but me it seemed that I didn't have the type of relationship I thought I did. A lot of people started keeping their distance from me, Steve included. Now that he's gone, I can't help but harbor a little resentment not for the people who tried to make me see what I would not, but for myself for putting on the rose-colored glasses and refusing to take them off. I know Steve has forgiven me. Maybe someday I will forgive myself. Someday.