The Way it was Then - Part #12

 June 24, 1983

And the Circle Gets Smaller

Friends are a rare commodity.

The older I get, the more my friends mean to me. Chalk it up to the realization that life is often too much to bear alone, and that the love and loyalty of good friends are constants that can be counted on when all else fails.

Distance doesn't diminish friendship.

Of course, I know that's true.

Distance makes it more difficult to see, be with and share the enjoyment of a friend.

And that's what makes parting so emotionally wrenching.

On Sunday, I spent my last day with Doris.

Qualify that. On Sunday, I spent my last day in her home in Trenton, among the familiar things I have grown to love over the past twenty-three years, in the surroundings that have so clearly reflected her personality.

From her spoiled cat to her myriad, thriving plants, to the paintings by her artistic mother, to the oak bookcase-china closet that once held the psychology books she had in her office at the college... all of them are imprinted as images that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Doris is a psychologist. She is a psychotherapist and a teacher. Her acceptance of and empathy for people have no equal in anyone I've ever met.

During those years, she has been friend, mother, sister, confidante, conscience and mirror.

When she first came to Trenton State College in 1960, I was a freshman nearing the end of my first year. We didn't have any counseling services on campus then, and many of my friends and dorm-mates needed the kind of support Doris provided to troubled young adults. I was no different than they, but it quickly became apparent that Doris and I had more to our relationship than client-counselor. It wasn't long before I was Doris's student assistant, an aide during her doctoral dissertation research and a companion and friend.

It's hard to describe to people the bond between us, when a generation separates us in age and experiences.

Suffice it to say  I believe everyone needs uncomplicated, simple and totally accepting love from someone in his or her life. Doris provided that to me from the first day I met her and her cherished support gave me what strength I have had in all the years of adulthood that have passed or are still to come.

On Sunday, I couldn't tell her any of that.

In fact, I couldn't face her leaving without telling myself over and over again that the move is in her best interest and that I am delighted for her that she has the wherewithal to realize the goal of her life's work ... she can be in her beloved Florida, in a home of her own, near her son and friends of her youth, doing the kind of work she chooses when she chooses to do it.

So we had the kind of day we normally have when we get together to catch up ... a long talking time, dinner at a good restaurant and more talking time.

But finally, when the day was ending and it was time for me to head back to south Jersey, none of the words that told her how I care would come out, because they were all so final.

To put into words the depth of my feeling for her would have been to acknowledge that our relationship will be profoundly changed. Not in emotional quality, but in geographically-determined quantity.

It's been easy over the years since I left the campus to respond to a tone of voice on the phone and zip up to Trenton to sit and talk out her problems. It's been equally easy for her to leave the door unlocked so I could slip in when the stresses of my life left me in tiny pieces and I needed her healing caring to glue me back together.

That's over.

That phase of our relationship will be replaced by something different, the distance that will force a change in the way we rely on each other.

I'm not sure I can handle it.

I'm not sure I'm ready to go through day-to-day worries without the knowledge that she's there to prop me up when I falter.

I'm not sure I can pull off my bravado at her leaving.

But I am sure that this is a good move for her to make. She'll be in a climate that encourages better health. She'll be among hordes of friends and family where her life will be easier.

I am sure I can get down to see her at least once a year.

And I am sure she's leaving me a priceless legacy ... self-confidence and the ability to live without fear.

Previous few people are as lucky as I have been to have had her so near for so long. As the circle of cherished people in my life shrinks, she is one to whom I will not say goodbye.

Just so long for a while.