A silent birthday wish
It is A’s other best friend’s birthday today. I have been pondering calling him to wish him a happy birthday for a couple of weeks. I wished his other best friend a happy birthday, and his sister, and his brother in their turn, and fully intended to follow suit in this case, but things haven’t really developed between us, and now it has the potential for awkwardness. In their cases, though, I was able to e-mail my warm wishes, and this suited my desire to reach out but not be terribly intrusive, or attempt to do anything but send the wish. I didn’t require or expect a conversation. But this friend doesn’t do e-mail, and a phone call, when I haven’t spoken to him since the concert in February, (or any of them since mid-March), seems uncomfortably forward under the circumstances. And the fact that I have had the feeling that my phone calls represented a sad reminder of A’s passing for this friend since almost the beginning made me stop calling him some time ago, because I didn’t want to do that to him. He’s a nice guy. And if I can’t comfort a person, the least I can do is not make things worse.
I find it a little ridiculous myself that I feel I have to think so hard about something as apparently simple and innocuous as a casual ‘happy birthday’ wish. And yet, my relationship with A’s tribe is nothing if not complicated. Or maybe it’s not complicated at all and is, in fact, nothing. I accept that while all of us are tied together by A, it’s entirely possible that I am the only one who pays any attention to that bond and wonders about it, or thinks about them in my daily life.
Because when A was here, I knew all about them, but they didn’t know about me, and it was routine for us to talk about them all and what was going on with them. They’ve been a part of my life and my thoughts for 3 years. I didn’t exist for them until that fateful day all our lives changed, and I don’t get the feeling they made any permanent room in their lives for me. I couldn’t expect them to. I can’t blame them. The only reason they know me is because A died, and I was the bearer of bad news. And I think that maybe even if they could get past the fact that I was a surprise, I will always have that shadow of death hanging over me in their eyes. Maybe it’s not true, but I really have no way of knowing. And that’s what makes me hold back, because if my speculation is at all correct, I don’t want to force them to deal with sad memories because I initiated contact. It seems unfair somehow, and too big a price to ask them to pay for an unasked-for pleasantry.
This friend with the birthday tomorrow told me that A would always call him in the morning on his birthday. If I called, would it partially fill a hole and brighten his day, or would it only emphasize the call he is NOT going to get this year? In the latter case, my effort would have the exact opposite effect from what I intended. And so I will not, though I’ll be thinking of him and wishing him well from my heart.
I question myself sometimes, though, and wonder if I appear cold to them for NOT contacting them. Or wonder if they think I don’t want anything to do with them, which couldn’t be further from the truth. But I don’t want to hurt them, or me, even unintentionally. I remind myself that I put myself out there over and over again, and that wasn’t returned in kind. People vote with their feet, and I have my answer, though I do believe they did the best they could; we all did.
While it’s not ideal, (to my lights anyway), I believe that whether they know it or not, someone is thinking of them, hoping good things for them, praying for them (in her way, anyway), and caring about them, and that can only be to the good. I can’t stop caring about them. And unrequited love is still love in the end.