The Burial

I'm burying my friend today, one of the oldest friends I have.

It's weird to realize that another human you've known for most of your adult life will no longer be around... Someone that has had the time to see the ugly parts of you, and yet accepted you because of some unknown reason. A reason that, now, you will never know.

I'm burying my friend today, and it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. It probably has something to to with the fact that, as far as I know, she isn't dead.

As I stand here with my shovel admiring my own handywork, I think maybe I should say a few words...

---

"Hey, do you remember how it all got started? It's been so long I can't tell if I actually remember. Like knowing a story from your childhood only by repeatedly hearing your parents tell it. I liked you from the moment I saw you, that much I know. And I must have done something right since we did kind of end up together for a little while...

You where probably right though, when you said that we were not meant to be more than friends. God, it hurt when you broke up with me but but at least it was honest. The loneliest place in the world I have ever been was together with someone who didn't love me anymore but hadn't had the guts to say it yet. You never put me through that.

And getting the relationship out of the way really did make more room for our friendship, didn't it? We didn't miss any of the massive dance parties back then... every few months we'd be out all night, always close to the DJ's and the music. This scene really feels like something of our generation - something I have never been able to truly explain to anyone who wasn't there. Have you?

All the crazy shit we saw along the way... remember that kid who overdosed right next to us? Or that time we watched the wardrobe security being rushed by a whole group of doped-up partygoers in Rotteram? Shit. If those aren't bonding experiences I don't know what are...

You know what amazes me? We have never ever lived in the same country. How did we even manage to coördinate before the mobile phone era?? Zwitserland, Italy, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany... we were all over the map but it was never important to us where we were. We always managed to find each other.

We started out communicating by fax, remember that? I tried to save those but at some point I found the rolls of paper had become completely illegible and I threw them out. Like me, the paper has forgotten the words.

You know, I always considered our friendship as a trusty Volvo. It was there whenever I needed it. I'd peek at it from behind the curtains and as long as I could see it in the driveway, I was comforted that I could still pick up the keys and take it for a drive whenever I felt like it. One of those people with whom, no matter how long we hadn't spoken, I could just pick up where we left off...

But we never really did, did we?

Don't you think it's ironic that the invention of social media coincided with the decline of our contact? Digital messages can't forget their words nowadays, but the value of the words they contain is somehow less because of it. Did you forget how to talk to me? You where always online broadcasting on your socials - but I didn't get much else.

Do you know that I can scroll back the pas eight years of our lives with a single flick of my thumb? I'm looking at it now. We mention each other's birthday occasionally... a few happy new years. We've always been separated by physical miles but it might as well have been lightyears. Is this really all that is left of us?

Guess that's why I'm here burying you now. I no longer think we can pick up where we left off.

I see that it took me nine months to realize that you had not answered my last message. How come I didn't see that before? It seems I wasn't paying much attention.

Actually, over the years I think I might have let you down more than the other way around. I'm the one who deleted my social profiles, so in a way I left you more in the dark than you did me. I settled down, I got married, I had kids... no more parties.

Whenever we did speak over the years, I remember you where always starting things of with someone new, always living somewhere else. But as I stand here now, I can't name a singe one of the significant others of your past. Was I really thát disinterested?

...

Shit."

---

I've buried my friend today, and I suddenly realize I've made a terrible mistake. I start digging, frantically digging, I have to check to make sure. I dig but it's getting harder and harder to breathe. What have I done? I dig but my arms start to burn. I dig, but I'm getting so tired I can't move any more, I feel like laying down. When did I get so old? I need to lay down...

No, I am laying down... suddenly it's completely dark. I'm in a box.

It was not my friend I've been burying after all, it was myself. It was the version of me that has been peeking out at the driveway every once in a while to think "I exist, because I still have a friend", without doing the actual work of being there. I peek outside now and I see a rusted out wreck of a Volvo in the driveway. It has not received any decent maintenance in years. Why didn't I do a better job of that?

I wonder if friendship exist as a single thing in two separate minds? Or am I only ever looking at my own mind. A wise Zen master once said "there is no spoon"...

I'm burying part of myself today, and it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. But when I'm done, I think I'll give my friend a call... to say I'm sorry.... and ask how she's doing.