How Do You Move On When a Lifelong Friend Ghosts You? Writer Patti Peterson Tries to Find the Answer

When I feel a comfortable connection to someone as I did 45 years ago, with a man who would become one of my closest friends, it suffocated my heart when the door to our relationship was abruptly slammed shut.

We met in our early twenties through a mutual friend and there was a synchronized ease of conversation in our unchoreographed rhythmic dialogue about books, movies, politics and ideology.

Being there for each other when our respective parents passed away, marriages ended, or unfathomable personal challenges arose was all part of our “I have your back, no matter what” alliance…that person that you drop everything for when they need you most.

We clicked in conversation, in mind melding and in humor, a constant thread throughout our forty-plus year friendship. I thought our bond would stand the test of whatever hurdles came up, until two years ago, when our spirited communication callously ended.

This is someone I trusted implicitly and who I’d grown to think of as a mainstay, a rock, a constant in my life. Someone who infiltrates my mind almost daily whether it’s through the lyrics of a song or lines from a movie, so many roads lead back to the banter of wits or reminiscence that we shared through the years.

So, why the halted exchange of ideas, of confidentialities, and of hanging out? My phone calls went unanswered, my text messages were left empty with no triple dot anticipated reply visible on my phone rebounding back to me. My birthday came and went with no acknowledgement or good wishes from my lapsed bestie. The hurt climbed in like an uninvited guest overstaying their welcome.

This is a person who I let in by way of my deepest, most intimate secrets. In fact, he knows me better than anyone else, which in turn means that he knows how hurtful and devastating this is to my being, my psyche, and to the construction and destruction of my heart.

I questioned myself constantly. I questioned my own behavior. Had I done something beyond repair? Nothing immediately came to mind. I couldn’t fathom that he had so cavalierly forsaken our friendship with not even a discussion or text message between us. What had caused this rash, confusing turnabout?

His ghosting behavior flummoxed and perplexed me and after reaching out one last time, he mechanically replied that his circumstances had changed, and he needed to distance himself.

My friendship menagerie is small in comparison to most, whether it’s because my heart doesn’t open easily or I don’t have a lot of free time to cultivate relationships, I don’t know.  But I do know that bonds of trust are cemented and sealed with each person that I let in.

Receiving people at arm’s length may be a by-product from one of my siblings dying when I was only nine, and my parents’ divorce shortly thereafter or moving away from the only neighborhood and familiarity I had known. I’m not sure if one or all of these incidents contributed to the aftermath of me feeling unstable and/or my need to protect my heart from the lack of permanence in my life.

And I intrinsically know that not every relationship will withstand ups and downs and not every friendship is meant to last a lifetime. Some people are here to teach lessons or help us get from one place to the next, or we’re there to help them in return. But this felt like such a betrayal of our kinship, of our camaraderie, and of our upspoken friendship oath.

His dismissive disappearance created such a hurtful cyclone in my life. Was I too dependent on his feedback, his opinion, and his judgement, always seeking his advice?

Oftentimes when someone leaves your life it serves as impetus for growth but it’s not easy to see that from the beginning. No, in the beginning, I kept insisting that this wasn’t happening, that this was somehow a temporary blotted phase, and we would reach a better, more profound union.

But as time passed, my stubborn will and the craving for our usual conversation gave way to many contemplative minutes about the ties that were no longer there, that appeared frayed beyond resuscitation. Writing this down, or saying these words out loud gives this loss more decisiveness than I would like, but I can no longer pretend that things will change just because I want to reverse direction retroactively. 

Letting go was not and is not easy. It does not sit well with my persistent need to know what happened, the whys and wherefores of this loss.

In my search for closure of my pain, I had to pull myself up and out. I did not want my heart to ossify and become brittle. Initially, I wanted to rush through and put the hurt behind me, but it takes what it takes. There’s no expeditious movement with matters of grieving and we’re all different in knowing when we’re ready to expand. My heart was bruised, but the scabs are mending.

And I realized the focus needed to shift. I needed to self-reflect and work on me. I can’t control, coax or convince someone else that they should want to continue the closeness that we shared, nor should I have to. And perhaps by letting go, I’m opening the door for other adventures.

It takes courage to not give into sadness. It takes courage to step out of stagnation. It takes courage to move forward. And it takes courage to acknowledge what feels good for my life and not give up on that. Rejection doesn’t warm my heart but acceptance of me and permanent self-love, does.

It’s been two years since my friend unceremoniously shut the door, and grief occasionally laps at my heart, especially when I find myself wanting to pick up the phone and share something about my day, my thoughts or my experiences.  

Now when I hear a song that reminds me of our past, of frolic, fun and entertaining repartee, I tell myself to cherish the memory and to appreciate the closeness that we had.

Not everyone has the capacity or desire to experience life on the same terms. The trajectory of our friendship has cauterized our heart-to-heart interaction, but my love for this human who entered my life almost as quickly as he left will always be there, a fixture in my being, ever grateful for the days gone by. Even though I lost my wingman, I gained inner strength. And he will always be family to me.

And when I need encouragement, I read the quote below as a reminder to keep looking forward.

“There are many reasons why people bid farewell to one another. People have their own thoughts and situations. It may be difficult indeed not to look back. The deep scars within your heart may not heal quickly. Yet brace yourself so you can look forward. You have to advance, even a step. You should strive to move on, cutting through the clouds in your heart. As long as you advance, new hope will be born. The sun will rise. Only when you continue to advance can you encounter an even better, more wonderful you. A new life will unfold for you.” - Daisaku Ikeda