A Troubled Texan and the Test of Tears

This entry is a response to a recent note by Grits in the City on an email that we both received from a mutual friend, TxDem. She's been through at least four significant "life losses" this year, and just when she has seemed to hit the bottom, something else goes wrong in her life. It's like she has fallen into a well, and she's drowning, and the escape gets farther and farther away.

She is in despair and has been so for months. Many of her friends have walked away from the drama, intensity and sadness of it all. It has been sad, intensely dramatic at times, and frustrating to be near her. She acknowledges it, but she just doesn't have the energy to be able to do anything about it right now. She's low.

She sent a blind list of friends an email acknowledging her situation and earnestly thanking them for being friends. It was a big move, and it demonstrated great strength. My heart goes out to her.

In my life, there have been some significant relationships that I've let go because they got to a point where they just weren't good for me. And even though my friendship with TxDem lately has been more "give" than "take," I'm not keeping score because it feels good to be able to serve her. I believe in karma and Christ's example.

She's a special friend worth the sacrifice: passionate, gifted, intelligent and genuine. That combination is rare and cherished by me. Her friendship and loyalty are as steady as the promise of Bluebells in the spring.

Her email talked about the value of letting go. Letting go of baggage, of unhealthy relationships, of grudges, and even of friends who aren't meant for the long term.

I won't let TxDem go - because I know that, before long, one day she'll begin feeling much better. She'll be back to her old self and, as a phoenix rises from the ashes, she'll have a maturity and seasoning forged from fire.

Folks who have experienced and conquered this depth of grief are great folks to know, for they have a wisdom from experience, a reality of living that provides a rock-solid, sometimes sobering perspective. In some ways, I can identify with the depths she's in - but only in my rear-view mirror.

I know that she'll be okay. This is one instance in which I'll choose not to let go.