Breaking up with friends is the worst. 

Rarely have I experienced spontaneous combustions but more of a slow goodbye. Fewer conversations. Less time together. Shorter texts. Less of everything until it fades. It’s heartbreaking to lose friendships I thought would last a lifetime. 

We choose friends to be in our lives without bloodline or contract. Breaking up is not as clear as a divorce or a death, but it stings. A grief we carry without the clarity of a label. A label that names the pain from no longer having them by your side. 

I don’t have a Buzzfeed headline like “How To Heal from a Friendvorce (Number 5 will surprise you).” I’m not sure healing is the destination. Healing feels more like a practice that takes time.

A memory of a friend will occasionally sneak up on me. Then, a sudden urge to reach out. I’m reminded, though, that things have changed. 

The weight of carrying a loss makes transitioning into a new season slow.

March in the Midwest is this suspended space between winter’s end and the beginning of spring. The mood: eager for change. March likes to remind me of my impatience.

Every year, I look forward to the beautiful pink flowers of the tree outside my house. March seems late to the memo… the season has changed. I want new life now! 

Days later, we get the inevitable late snow. Overshadowing the growth already starting to bloom, taking steps back as if to call out that everything happens in its own time. That as much as we try, we can’t force growth. Winter has trouble letting go. 

The sadness of losing a friend is just like March. And this year, I’m learning to lean into March’s perfectly timed transition, trusting that Spring won’t let me down.