An Accidental Friendship

John and Sarah have been friends of ours for years. We met in a student ward early in our marriages. We shared little but friendship at the time. Within two years both Sarah and I disappeared from the life grid while we paid homage to the porcelain god and gave birth to our first daughters within two months of each other. My husband and I moved to a house in their neighborhood and we soon enjoyed a full friendship with John and Sarah. 

Sarah and I grappled with working and parenting. We took our children to the park. Our daughters danced at the same studio. We met with another family for Sunday dinners. We shared our thoughts, processes, theories, parenting practices, time and love. It was an accidental friendship with a purpose.

We moved from that city nearly 11 years ago. We tried to keep up on occasional Sunday dinners but I could see us drifting apart. It was a natural conclusion to our friendship. Then I started dancing in the adult dance class where, coincidentally, Sarah was also dancing. I've shared before the importance of my dance friends. They are more dear to me than my dog. books. Definitely my dog.

Sarah and I continued our friendship without the husbands and children but included a couple of new female friends. We shared the ups and downs of our lives; children, adoption, depression, marriage woes, medical diagnoses, insurance, job losses/changes, infidelity, while ultimately finding strength in the sisterhood we shared and celebrating the small victories.

Last October, Sarah's marriage to John concluded with a painstaking divorce. Being privy to Sarah's pain, naturally, I joined her camp. I never see John anymore so I had no problem hating him for his choices and convincing myself I'd probably punch him if I ever ran into him. He's a complete idiot and jerk. Self-centered, self-serving, and the scum of the earth. At least I would throw up on him.

However, last time I saw Sarah, she confided that John had increasingly become a non-issue for her (besides the shared custody of the children). Regardless, he was scum.

Yesterday my 5 year old and I went to buy a bike for my husband for his birthday. We ran into John who regarded me warily. We haven't seen each other in years. Obviously, Sarah and I have talked. I felt something rise up in my throat. Was it bile? Would I really throw up all over him? Alas, it was a lump of grief. I grieve the loss of the friendship we shared as a family. I grieve the shared history and knowledge. I grieve that when I told him I was getting a bike for Scott's birthday, John knew it was the next day. When he told me he was bike shopping for his 15 year old daughter's birthday, I knew it was that very day. 

We know each other. We know the other's children, anniversary, history. And I grieve that he will no longer be included in our memories of things to come. Sarah will remarry. Our families will meet again on a Sunday afternoon and we will like her new husband but he won't be able to follow the conversation on certain topics because he didn't hear the introduction 17 years ago.

The introduction that started with a vital, accidental friendship.