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Our Friends

They rock.  Seriously.  It would be even harder to get through all this without them.

Sunday was busy.  Unfortunately two different people planned their party for the same afternoon.  But we made it to both.  I’m still a little sore and didn’t think I could deal with both kids so I left the little guy with grandma for the day.  I feel SO bad for having to do that though.  It shouldn’t be that way and I don’t want it to be.  Even though I knew I would not have been able to carry both, as both would want me to carry them, it was really hard not to bring him with.  But that’s a topic for an entirely separate post…

So anyways, back to our friends.

Honestly, they’re a big part of the reason why I could never move away from here (at least not any time soon, even though the winters here are way to long & cold).  While there are times where I would rather just separate myself from everything, they understand and they lost her too.

So we made it to both parties.  It wasn’t ideal to leave the first party early or get to the second party late, but we did it because I wanted to go to both.  My daughter wanted to stay at the first party and had plenty of excuses to keep me there.  Most of the people at that party had kids and just about all of them are married.  The kid part helps mine because they can play together.  Thank goodness my kids are well behaved.  Some of the kids there were just out of control.  The harder part for me is that most everyone else is married.  Knowing that we should be right there with them, doing the same stuff, enjoying the same things, talking, drinking, … whatever … it makes it tough.  It’s hard to see all them and constantly think about what I lost.  That’s when I would rather just separate myself from everything.  I know they all truly care, it just isn’t easy. 

So we have that set of friends.  Most married, most with kids, went to college with some, lived in the city with just about all of them, lots and lots of good times.  And then there’s our friends at the 2nd party.

After yesterday, and perhaps I already knew this, it was very apparent that the two groups are unique.  It’s a little hard to describe in a word or two, or maybe it’s just that I have yet to find the words.  They are different but both very important to us. 

I think the first set of friends is a little more reserved, a group more likely to have a wine party than go out to see live music.  Whereas this next set of friends is more the latter.  Live local cover bands are how this group became what it is anyways so that kind of makes sense.  It started coming together soon after high school.  We’ve kind of grown up over the past 10+ years watching these same bands.  It’s been plenty crazy at times.  Although there are also plenty of crazy/fun times with the other group too.  There are less kids in this group and less marriages too.  Go figure!  Maybe that too is why they’re a little more out of control than the other group of friends.  They’re slowly catching up.  One wedding this year, another soon to follow.  Kids I’m sure will come soon thereafter.  Nevertheless I can’t really imagine the group changing much. 

I struggle in similar ways around this group of friends as I do the other.  I’m not sure which group, if any, she relates better to.  However, since there are less kids in this group I think those friends relate better to her.  Even though she was a little tired when we got to the 2nd party she still opened up with some of them and had a good time.

There’s so much more I can write, but I should probably do some work

But one last thing.  The wake … probably the single most difficult day in my entire life thus far … and I so hope that’s it because I can’t take any more than that.  I was a mess.  I was especially a mess with our friends.  The same people I’m referring to here.  It’s difficult to write about this stuff even some 13+ months later.  It’s no easier.  It’s still so fresh.  Just the presence of our friends scratches at that wound.  Someone else wrote that she didn’t think of it as a scar but rather a scab.  A scab that isn’t healed, just covered up.  Something that could rip right open at any moment.

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