Everything Happens for a Reason

When I was in Junior High, in those rough years that girls can be amazingly vicious to each other, I was being given quite a bit of grief from people I considered friends. One day at lunch I got up to throw away some garbage. When I came back I found one of my “friends” going through my lunch pail. I was livid and I pulled her hair. Probably not the best course of action, but neither was invasion of private property.
Within a couple of days (out of the blue to me) I was called into “THE OFFICE”. Where I find I have been “turned in” by a gaggle of girls, who in turn sat there and said how awful I was. The girl whose hair was pulled and I were forced to stay in the office until I apologized (we sat there a VERY long time). It was all there words against, well, I don’t really remember getting a say. It didn’t matter that what she had done was just as wrong. (*insert snide comment about communists taking over the schools*)

One of my other friends, who was not among that bunch, was very angry. She thought it was wrong that I was not allowed to have anyone to speak on my side. She soon became my best friend and I have no one who can even begin to be compared to her loyalty and friendship.

My best friend was there for me as my mother was emotionally abusing me. In fact she helped me see things that were wrong with how I was being treated. (Ann Coulter reminds me of her.) We were inseparable. Our birthdays were only ten days apart. We talked about boys, clothes and music like any other teenager. Our houses were two blocks away and we would still sit on the phone watching TV together. And even when we fought; we eventually would get over our mutual stubbornness be inseparable once again.

My best friend had her own fight during all those years. When I first met her she was nine years old and she could walk. I watched over the years as her health slowly declined. She never complained. Not once that I can recall. She was wise behind her young years as her illness left her with a chance to watch people and learn in ways so many people never seem to. She died at seventeen years old from Muscular Dystrophy and has left a hole in my life ever since.

I read a quote somewhere that “To have one true friend is to have more than your fair share.” I count having her has a friend a huge blessing in my life.

And this is where it sucks for anyone I’ve met since then.

She set the bar for my standards in what I expect. I’ve been spoiled. I think we were honest to a fault with each other, and I cherish that greatly. The only other person I’ve experience that kind of trust with is my (WONDERFUL) Husband. As I look back through all the muck I’ve been through as a constantly searched for a friend like her I can now see why I’ve been so upset with the out come.