Here's what I learned after my best friend of 20 years ghosted me

In this life, one thing is certain–loss. The past couple of years, I’ve taken some pretty bad losses. I lost my stepdad, who was one of my biggest cheerleaders. Though his death was completely unexpected, I knew it was final, and I could grieve, and people would understand that grief comes with a loss that tragic.

Then there’s loss of friendship. I’ve cut ties with several people over the past two years. For some, we just grew apart, or the friendship was irreparably damaged by something flippantly cruel said about a group or cause.

One friend in particular was the loss of my best friend of 20 years. She held each one of my babies that came after we met. She stood up for me in my presence and out. We laughed for hours and shared every inside joke you can think of. We always joked that we were each other’s soulmates, and we would always be the one constant in each other’s lives.

But she didn’t show up when my last baby was born. She checked in like normal before surgery for my scheduled c-section, and made the promise to be there before my anesthesia wore off–but she wasn’t.

In fact, I haven’t heard from her since that day. She never showed up. She never held my son. She never said goodbye to my older kids, who called her aunt. She just left. There was no fight. Nowhere to lay the blame. She simply decided our friendship didn’t serve her anymore.

Where is the book on grieving a friend who’s still living? Who is giving out instructions on how to explain how to properly comprehend being ghosted by someone you once considered a sister? It stung.

She wasn’t there when I needed her most. The birth of my last son. The death of my stepdad. The diagnosis of my mother. Calls, texts, and messages all went unanswered. I cried–a lot.

But, one thing I have learned is “when someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” I didn’t. She showed me who she was repeatedly, and I held tighter out of loyalty. But the thing about loyalty is that it needs to be mutual. That’s the hard lesson I’ve learned throughout my life. If you’re the main person putting in the effort, it’s time to reevaluate.

Grieving a friendship is a part of life that we don’t talk about enough. I’m not sure what was going on in her life that she felt the need to step away from our long friendship, but I wish her well. I don’t fault her. Maybe it was easier for her to just cut ties without looking back.

If something isn’t beneficial to you, you don’t have to stay at the table. It’s ok to eat alone until the company reflects more of who you are. I no longer reflect what she needed, and she no longer reflects who I’ve grown to be. While I do wish I had closure, I know that the friendship isn’t for me anymore.

I know that if she pops back up, I’d let her know that I’ve filled my table with people who reflect my values and know my worth in their lives. I hope that if you’re grieving a friendship, you know it’s ok to mourn a friend who is no longer in your life.

Grief is grief. It’s the most human emotion that we’ve all felt on some level. Fill your table with those who refill your cup and lend you their spoons when you’re out. Don’t be afraid to sit alone until the people at the table reflect your heart.

Dr. Leaf talks more about this subject and why the grief of friend breakups can feel so disproportionate below: