Friday, July 15, 2011

My friend is leaving me

Today is a sad, sad day for me, as I'm bidding farewell to my very best BFF at work. She's not leaving mad, she's leaving to go home, near her mother and her college age daughter. She's found a great job with a great company, and I know that this will be a terrific move for her, both financially and mentally.

But that doesn't make it any easier for those of us she's leaving behind.

She's been my lunch buddy for years, and although we didn't start out as besties, we have formed a wonderful friendship. She has been to me like a beloved sister, a confidant and friend. I've been, depending on the circumstances, her harshest critic and her most staunch supporter, and she has done the same for me.  She's beeen my sounding board, and I trust her judgement and her insight.

Life is going to bring exciting changes for her, and I am genuinely excited to see her off on her new adventure.

But I know my heart will tug when I pull into our parking garage on Monday and her parking space is empty. Her desk will sit empty, her parking space lonely and unfilled until it gets a new owner. Meetings won't be the same, nor will lunch time.

No more trips to Target, to Ulta, a quick run to pick up sandwiches at the place I always call Roly Poly, even though it has another name. Even now, I can't conjure it, but she'll know exactly what I'm talking about when she reads this.

My heart will be very empty and I know I will miss her immensely. I'm hoping that through the magic of Skype and email, we'll be able to stay in touch. She's a friend for life, and although we won't have our daily time together, I will always know she is there for me, no matter what. And I hope she knows the same about me,

I am surrounded by reminders of her, from birthday wishes, sticky notes, and the kind of artwork friends share amongst themselves. Happy memories of inside jokes and time spent together will always be with me, even after she's packed up her Acadia and headed west.

So it's with more than a tiny lump in my throat that I say farewell to my friend.

I love you, KVC, and I'll miss you more than words could ever express.