By SaraKay Smullens
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“Friends, you and me…you brought another friend…and then there were three…we started our group…our circle of friends…and like that circle…there is no beginning or end.”
Eleanor Roosevelt
When my first husband and I separated after eleven years of marriage, I relied on a trusted network of friends. I had no relatives living near me, but my friends were my confidantes and my soul mates during the most difficult time of my life. They were the ones I called early in the morning when I was too gripped by fear to wake my young daughters, ages four and seven. My friends were the ones who took me to lunch, listened to stories of a needlessly protracted divorce, saved their children’s clothes for my children each season, and called me in the evenings after my children were asleep when my loneliness felt crippling. They were the ones that supported my choice to get a divorce and reassured me that I and my two young daughters would not only survive, but thrive and go on to enjoy rewarding and productive lives. I needed to believe them.
Now 34 years later and remarried to a loving husband for almost 30 years, my relationships with most of these friends have deepened despite life changes or moves to other cities. But not all. One passed away and I will mourn her death for the rest of my life. With some, the degree of intimacy has changed, but my contact with them is still meaningful to me. In a few cases, we’ve just grown apart as years and events have tilted our lives.
This reflection has made me realize that the meaning of friends, our need for them and the kind of relationships we have with them are not static. By the time we have reached our 50s, 60s, 70s and beyond, we keep some friends, slip away from others, make new friends; and, as we move through the decades, we have different expectations of what friendship means. Sometimes a shared history is our major bond. Sometimes, that isn’t enough.