Roots

This post may appear to be funny, based on this:

But, it’s really not so much. 

Because it represents this person who’s no longer in my life. This person who was once such a huge part of my life we may as well have been married. A best friend, like a sister kind of person. A talk-to-on-the-phone-every-day kind of person. A person who leaves a big, gaping hole in your life when she is no longer in it.

I have written about her struggles and how it has affected me. Maybe I’ve blabbed too much to the Internet. (We all know how well Ms. Internet keeps secrets.)

The friendship has been over for a while, but I was too busy paddling against the current on the River DeNiAl. When I finally fell overboard and the shock of reality woke me up, I went through a whole range of emotions: anxiety, anger, mourning and finally acceptance.

After her own personal efforts to seek help failed, family and friends intervened. After two months, it was apparent our efforts were less than effective. She had played us. She had outwitted us all, the dimwits that we are, I guess.

This outwitting really stung and hurt. However, it appears cosmic justice has banged her gavel. Just desserts have been served on a cold, hard platter. By this time, I have learned how to live without her. No e-mail. No phone calls. I’ve had one exchange of mail, which included a small card featuring the above odd carrot character and this message:

The cure of an ill is not to sit still,
or frowst with a book by the fire;
But to take a large hoe and shovel also,
And dig till you gently perspire.

Rudyard Kipling