I’m blessed with the friends I have. Old ones, new ones, writing ones, work ones, church ones. I’m blessed with family, too. My other half, our kids and kids-in-law and grands. Siblings and siblings-in-law and my most beloved mother-in-law. And on and on. You have them, too.
Then there are friends—and a few family members, too—that I’m not blessed with anymore. For whatever reason, be it my fault, theirs, or both, the relationships no longer exist. This is hard for me. I want to fix it. I want to undo the things I must have done wrong, unhurt the feelings I must have trampled, unsay whatever the wrong things were.
The other part of it is that I want people to apologize to me, too. I want them to tell me how we went from BFFs to not speaking.
But I am learning, as I meander through my 60s, that I can’t fix things like that. That it’s time to master the art of letting go. I think every few days that I can do that, but then I’m once again moaning about someone who stopped talking to me five years ago.
Oh, good grief, Liz, get over it!
See what I mean? So now this is “out there.” I will let go of unhappy endings because I’ve been blessed with so many happy ones. And I will remember the gains and gifts and joys I got from those relationships back in the day. I hope they got something from them, too.
But I’d like to know if other people are this way, too. Is it a writer thing? A girl thing? How do you let go of an unhappily ever after?