by Michael Mayes

Created on: September 08, 2009

The End of an Imperfect Love Story

I received some terrible news yesterday. I found out a very dear friend from my college days had died. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure "dear friend" really describes our relationship accurately. First, I have not seen or spoken to her in 20 years. Can you truly call someone a dear friend if they have been absent from your life that long? Secondly, at one time, we were much more than friends. I loved her deeply. We were together every spare moment of every day for over a year. I know a year doesn't sound all that long. However, I'm not exaggerating when I say we were together every minute possible. She was my confidante, my lover, and my very best friend. She meant the world to me. Ours was a very passionate relationship. It was also a relationship that ended much too soon.

She came from a family that had a lot of turmoil. Her parents had split up and she did all she could to avoid going home to an incredibly dysfunctional atmosphere. She loved her folks but was devastated by the way they hurt each other continuously. She couldn't bear to be around it. As we became more serious, I would take her home with me whenever we had a long weekend or holiday from school. My family, in particular my mother, fell in love with her instantly. I will never forget the night she met my parents. Within an hour of our arrival she was working shoulder to shoulder with my mother preparing dinner. They talked and laughed like they were mother and daughter. The bond they formed was almost instantaneous. I was pleasantly taken aback. This had never come close to happening with anyone else I had dated. It was then I began to wonder if she was "the one."

We had an incredible year. I fell deeper in love with her every single day. I had never really and truly been more worried about someone else's happiness than I was my own until then. She and I would spend long nights at a lake not too far off campus. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we said nothing. Sometimes we made love. Sometimes we didn't. Mostly, we dreaded having to go back to campus and return to our respective dormitories. There were many nights when we didn't go back at all. Some of the best memories of my life are of watching the sunrise with her. Usually, we would remain silent as the day dawned in front of our bleary eyes. Sometimes, she would fall asleep leaning up against me. She always made me promise to stay awake while she slept. I always did. Watching over her was something I

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