On Valentine’s Day, just past, a long-time friend from back east died. A big guy, he sadly became less and less interested in Aging with any kind of pizzazz. Kent was older than me, but for a while, when we were both single, we were close friends (without benefits).

At a time in our lives when it might have been easy to let loneliness swallow us, we each served as a fairly-healthy crutch. Good times, fun adventures and a fair number of laughs.

Later we each found someone leading us both to “happily ever-after” Relationships. But our own relationship did not always go happily forward.

The Grudge

For a long while, Kent held a two-prong grudge toward me that I was too thoughtless to take seriously.

The first started when Christmas letters became a ‘thing.’ I had gone back to school and found little time for anything, let alone hand-written cards. I thought this annual letter was just the ticket. Kent didn’t agree. At first, I thought his complaint was mostly a joke. It was not. He complained the first year. But when I repeated it the following holiday season, he angrily declared that I “just shouldn’t bother sending one to him.” I (somewhat) apologized but rather shrugged it off.

My second faux pas happened some years later when I was living in Arizona. He wanted me to meet his wife on a planned trip west. I was thrilled to do so. Unfortunately, ‘something came up’ and I ended up facing an unforeseen commitment. I wasn’t able to Travel the 2 ½ -3 hours (each way) to where they were vacating in Sedona. Perhaps I could have managed the trip. Perhaps I should have ‘put myself out’ a bit more. But even then, time would have allowed me basically a short 1-hour visit. I didn’t go. He did not understand. And looking back I guess I wish I had tried harder. I didn’t totally understand the result nor why my apologies were insufficient.

Years passed.

Reconnection

I finally made a more full-throated apology and we once again emailed regularly.

I realized that Kent had a few intense hobbies and interests, but he had little purpose in life, aside from his marriage. Like many of us, his solid friends were few and I knew that our occasional contacts discussing books, movies and politics were appreciated.

That being said, the periodic reference to my personal failures were enough to inform me that the grudges were still held.  He seemed to want to forgive me, but always with a caveat. I think it made him sad. Further, the grudge did little to improve confidential, cherished conversations between us.

I’m not sure Kent ever got there, but as a good reminder to myself, I quote from a post entitled Something We Call Family.

“Find the forgiveness factor.
[No one is asking you to forget, just find a way to forgive – and act like it.]”

At good times, we can state forgiveness to someone for their trespasses against us.
At best of times, we can act like we mean it.

The Shallow Period

When Kent’s wife died, he was devastated. Understanding a bit of their relationship, I felt extreme sympathy for his situation. I corresponded with him more often and wrote long missives to echo what I believed he was reporting. It seemed to help. To be clear, I was being sincere. Yet, I also felt myself holding back – “mincing words.”

Shortly, his health worsened considerably, as did his Depression. A real body-mind connection story. My outreach continued, but basically in the rather-shallow manner which we both now expected, or maybe came to rely on. Truthfully however, it wasn’t what I would want from a friend.

FINAL THOUGHT – My Own Take Away

When Kent died less than a year after one my best friends, it got me thinking about the people that slip into our lives. The saying goes that “you can pick your friends, but not your relatives.” Yet, sometimes even the friends aren’t hand-picked. Perhaps they’re situational. Or if you follow eastern thought, maybe they’re folks from another life with whom you need to work out conflict.  You might wonder how the friendship even came to be.

Nevertheless, they’re all important – each and every one. I hope that I don’t hold a grudge toward any of them currently in my life. But I’m not certain.

As I write, I can’t remember any, but I’ve put the question to my mind to answer in my Sleep sometime. I realize that a little bit of grudge goes a long, long way. And it’s a long way to nowhere beneficial.

If I can identify a grudge, I hope I can let it go. And if I forgive someone after an apology, I hope I can make it real. Act and feel like I mean it. With any luck, make the friend feel it likewise. It’s augmentation of our social and Mental Health, which can’t be ignored in our quest for quality longevity.

We don’t want to be curmudgeons, nor grudge-mudgeons. Wish me luck – same back to you.

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P.S. After finishing this piece, a person whom I do hold a grudge against just popped into my mind. All I can say is “dear God, now what do I do.”

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Title picture credit: Cat with grudge by ibjennyjenny via Pixabay.com

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Originally Published on https://www.agingwithpizzazz.com/

Barbara Klein Blogger

I hit the Second 50 mark a while back, but have my sights on a different goal –much longer, quality living.

While I may have a ‘dr’ in front of my name, the credentials for this blog are the same as yours – I am on a journey to Age with Pizzazz, whether that is body, mind, spirit or just fun and learning.  It is important to me to share related information with others as well.

I currently live in Southern Oregon with my husband, Michael.  I have had the good fortune (well, usually good fortune) to have called several states my home: Vermont, New York (family home with various locations along the way), Massachusetts (a short stint), Georgia, West Virginia, Connecticut, Arizona and most recently (2014) Oregon.

I grew up in upstate New York to a financially-modest family and did most of my schooling there.  My undergraduate work was in education (music and special education).  I did post graduate work in music therapy (and became an RMT – Registered Music Therapist).  My master’s degree from The New School in New York was in Hospital and Health Care Administration – and also convinced me that along with wonderful advancements, much is wrong with our traditional American medical and health care system (at least at that point).  There was a year more of pre-med courses in the southeast and then a doctorate degree in chiropractic (an industry that also has its many up and down sides).

I often joke that I have had as many professions or jobs as I do fingers.  To live up to that claim, I will name some: waitress, low-level banker, music and special Ed teacher, music therapist, mental health professional, gig performer, real estate agent (for which I had a shot at being the worst ever), probation officer, chiropractor, author and consultant.