Once, back in the ancient days of the 1970s, I was living, and sometimes going to the university, in Columbia, Missouri. I lived there for many years, going to school of and on. After 24 years I got my BA in English. Then I went on to get an MA in Geography. Anyway, this was before that was all done. While I was still just futzing around in the town, going to the Chez coffeehouse, serving coffee and tea to students and hangers-on like me. Of course, I had to work. I made a living. And I lived well because it was just me.

But I digress. I was going to talk about Linda. Or her new name, when she joined the Holy Order of MANS, which was Elizabeth. She had been searching spiritually for a belief system that fit her needs and propensities. She found it in this odd sect that professed to follow Christ, but had overtones of other mystic traditions all mixed in. I don't even know if it still exists. I knew it was all crap, personally, but I would never say that to her. She was a dear friend and I thought we would be friends forever. I even entertained a few dreams of spending my life with her.

That was silly, of course. I was a horny young man who entertained such dreams about many young ladies. Until I finally found the one and only that I have kept for 31 years of marriage now. Elizabeth had no inclinations towards me. But we had a strong relationship for years, even sharing a house at one point. I was a great babysitter for the child she bore from a dalliance with one fellow. I loved that little girl. I knew how to change diapers and rock children to sleep. I had learned at home, where I was 15 years old when my youngest brother was born. I was a grand big brother, taking the best of care of him.

I am rambling. I need to get to the point of this musing, which is what Elizabeth once told me while she was putting up wallpaper in the house she had just rented. She would do that. She moved every few months for whatever reasons, usually having to do with lack of money. But she always tried to improve the place she moved into, which was actually a little silly, since she must have known she would be leaving there not too long after.

Sitting there, watching her as she worked, and she loved to work, we were just chatting as friends do and she said something that has haunted me for years now. At the time it was almost devastating. I still feel the impact of her words. This is what she told me. To paraphrase, she said, "You know I think if I never saw you again it would be okay with me. I could live with it easily."

The first thought you would probably have is that she must not have really been a friend. But, all I can say to that is that we had been together, known each other, shared hopes and dreams, cared for the same people, and shared our space and time for years. If we were not friends then the word must really have no meaning.

Friendship is illusive. Just like love. They share many qualities, of course, and may be equivalent in some instances. In fact, I thought that I did love Elizabeth, as a good and true friend. I never doubted she shared the same feelings towards me. Now I was suddenly a bit distraught. It hit me like a hammer. But I did not let on to her. I held it in. Obviously, she was being open and honest, as one expects a friend to be. But really. She could live easily without ever seeing me again? It changed my whole outlook on friendship.

I began looking back at all the people I had known over the years, and noting the ones I had felt were friends at certain times in my life, and how they were not there anymore, and how it didn't seem to really impact my life at all. Elizabeth had given me a great truth. We can, indeed, live without almost anyone. Our lives go on. We make new friends. We find new loves. We keep memories, good and bad. It doesn't mean that we are heartless. Or without feelings. Or frivolous. We are just human.

Family is a special case. We could live without most of them, but they are family. That means something special in our society and most others around the world. Even when we would never have some of them as friends they are still family. We put up with them. But again, they are a special case.

I must admit there are truly some few special souls out there that I do, indeed, regret having lost from my life. But what can one do? We all make decisions in life, good or bad. Regretting them is a waste of time. Acknowledging our poor decisions is on the pathway to enlightenment. Accepting them is peace.

And then, eventually, we pass out of this weird and wonderful thing called life, and we hope that we will be surrounded by whatever friends and loves we may have at that point.

To say goodbye. To be missed by them, for awhile, for a long time, for whatever time and memories they will store in their hearts of us.