I really loved this essay and the analogy to a garden. I have to say I tend to my garden of friends very attentively, better than the garden in my backyard. I still maintain friendships from decades ago, the oldest a friend from preschool. My friends range in age from youngsters to nearly 90 year olds. My holiday card list is almost unaffordable to maintain with the ever increasing price of postage! When I gather with friends in my different friend groups, the common theme is how well I keep everyone connected. I take pride in this. I think my mom set the example of how to maintain and nourish friendships. I remember, back in the day when long distance calls were a significant expense, she would spend a good part of every Sunday calling her friends that lived far away. Rates were cheaper that day. This included Romania where she was from, Mexico where she lived during her teen years, and Chicago where she lived the first 18 years of her marriage before we all moved to Tucson. Lucky for me, long distance expenses aren’t a thing anymore and I can talk with my sons in NYC and England for nothing anytime I want to!
The most significant friendship I lost to death was my older sister Linda. At 64, she suicided. It’s almost exactly 9 years now. I don’t hurt as much anymore, time has helped. But I still long for her and will never fully understand her choice.
I’ve not lost too many friends yet but so many are ill…dementia, brain cancer, breast cancer…I think about our old friend Marino, 87 now. We see him weekly and he seems so robust…but he’s 87. I think of my friend Gail who lives in Rochester, NY. She’ll be 90 this summer. Her voice is youthful, her energy rivals a much younger person, her attention to politics and movies and books is modern! But she’s nearly 90…Then there’s my 6 year old surrogate granddaughter who is moving with her family to Tallahassee in 2 months. Who knows the next time I’ll see her. We’ve promised to FaceTime.
And there are a few friendships that withered and I’m still perplexed why as they were important friends to me for a time.
All this is to say, your essay today was very provocative. Thank you!
Amy, that’s quite a diverse garden you’ve created. A six-year-old! When I was a child, I had a couple of adult friends who affirmed me simply by enjoying my company. They weren’t looking for gratification, unlike my parents. What a gift!
Annabel is the daughter of one of my son’s best friends. They met when they were Annabel’s age, in the first grade. Annabel and I have been having play dates since she was 3.
I'm sorry for your losses. I, too, lost a sister to suicide (16 years this July). And a sister-in-law (5 years last month). Those losses made me sad, angry, confused. This many years on, however, I see how some people just can't take what this world dishes up. My brother said it was like she was on fire and nothing in the world would put it out. It was the only escape to relief. For some people, the misery has no "out," no end, no extinguisher. I have come to terms with losing them and I have made peace with their choices, as sad as it still makes me that they had to go. I hope you have also found peace.
Suicide is the hardest loss there is. I haven’t experienced it personally, although I have witnessed the agony of many others. I’m sorry for your continuing loss of your sister and sister-in-law.
Thank you, Shonda. I’m so sorry for your losses, too. I was angry with my sister at first but mostly I was so sad for her, that she was seemingly suffering in silence as we didn’t realize how truly distraught and depressed she was until too late. The guilt I carried was rough and I still feel some of that. But now, 9 years later, I just miss her, wish she was still here. She’d be so excited about my son’s upcoming wedding this summer.
Such a poignant post, Rona. My husband and I just had a conversation last night with old friends about the people who drift from your life. With age has come a deeper appreciation for lasting friendships and a shrinking of the ego and worries about impressions and appearances. I’m tending my bouquet with more care.
We started having these conversations around age 50, and now the topic is part of the fabric of our lives. I mostly enjoy being older. I don’t miss 35. But losing people never gets easier.
A beautifully paced and structured essay, Rona. How wonderful, those recurring visions of a friend.
I look back, at a landscape littered with the burnt remains of friendships, and wonder what happens to those who aren't skilful gardeners, who don't stay in one place to cultivate plants that last beyond one season.
It seems to me that the rituals of friendship have changed. I used to be in the habit of picking up the phone to call people I hadn’t heard from in a while, just to talk and maybe set a date for getting together. This was common in another era and made a reappearance during Covid, when people were hungry for connection. Apparently phoning out of the blue is now considered bad manners. We have just about lost one of our tools for maintaining the friendship garden.
This essay has inspired my next essay. May I quote you in my essay on this topic? I love this image:
"I look back, at a landscape littered with the burnt remains of friendships, and wonder what happens to those who aren't skillful gardeners, who don't stay in one place to cultivate plants that last beyond one season"
Thank you, yes, and I plan to share ample attribution and a link to her post. I have had a post about friendships rattling around in my mind for almost a month, but wasn't sure how I wanted to approach it. Rona helped kickstart my mental processes.
This popped up onto my computer just as I was finishing the many comments to David Roberts' latest contribution. Do serious people on Substack have the time to do anything besides read on Substack? I sometimes wonder.
On friendship, I share very deeply the importance you attribute to this aspect of our lives. Indeed, a post of the subject is brewing beneath the surface as I write, stimulated by my recent trip to Turin. I rekindled there a very special friendship with a woman I liked 'at first sight' 40 years ago, rather like falling in love without the sex, but have never seen much because of the sheer distance between us. And I spent an hour last evening talking to what I told my visiting grandson was 'my oldest friend' (met age 18) and he disagreed because he knows my 'oldest friend' who is 99. We see each other little, again because of physical distance (she in US, me in UK), but have long intimate catchups talking as if we saw each other yesterday. The warmth between us spreads mysteriously across the Atlantic via the telephone.
And oh my God, the friends lost. I have written elsewhere of my young German gay friend (he was under 30, I was 50) who died of AIDS thirty years ago but I remember with such warmth. We worked together on my book on AIDS, but were close long before that. Or my Belgian gay friend who I also worked with who died totally unexpectedly awhile back. I was incredibly close to both of them. Or my close friend from college who never engaged in small talk and was endlessly perceptive and interesting. All so very very different. All so missed. As you say, there is a piece of oneself that 'blooms' with each. With luck, that isn't lost with their passing.
This brought tears to my heart today… missing Nigel, the good man who loved me when I was too young and traumatised to accept love… and Jonno, the bad boy who annoyed me more than anyone I’ve ever known and loved winding me up. If they’re watching over me together, I’d love to eavesdrop!
So lovely, Rona. I love the idea of a garden of friends. I'm sorry about your friend, Bruce. Cancer got my friend, Teal, in 2007. One of the special, unique things about Teal was that she always strapped her purse strap inside her seat belt on purpose, so that no one could open the passenger door and steal her purse. When I my husband or I accidentally do that (it happens more often than you would think), I think of her and smile.
What an endearing and distinctive memory. The thought of someone trying to steal my purse through the passenger door has never entered my mind (from the back of a chair, okay). Perhaps I lead a sheltered life. I'm sorry for your loss of Teal.
This was a tough one to read because as we get older I find people fall by the wayside more often. Or even worse, die. The past few years for me has been eye-opening in the friend department. One estranged herself from my life many years ago for unknown reasons, which made it a very hard pill to swallow when her son reached out last year to tell me she died suddenly at the tender age of 45.
For me, friends are very few and far between since Covid. It feels like people just drifted and I can't blame them. So did I.
Kristi, I don't know where you live but it sounds hinterlandish. And it's pretty clear you spend your working day in a home office. I find that it's harder to make friends when I am not meeting people every day in a social hub, whether it's a Pilates class or a workplace. My longest and deepest friendships took root at Miss Chatelaine magazine when I worked there in the 70s. Even so, I've found the past few years a fruitful time for new friendships. They begin online, and some stay there. On my travels, I've been able to meet virtual friends and deepen our connection. While passing through Edmonton a couple of years ago, I looked up one of my virtual friends, who hosted me for a day. I'm so glad I did.
I live in Calgary and yes, aside from daily dog park shenanigans, I spend most of my time at home. I left my corporate job in 2011 but still have one loooong-time friend from there. Similar to you, I have many friends from my traveling days (pre-covid). They ALL began as online friendships and I met SO many of them from all around the world while traveling to just one destination. I've got some that I consider family out in Ontario that I met as a result of travel. Our families are even all intertwined now. It's pretty cool.
You bring two people to mind. One a complete stranger who shouted across a parking lot in Westlake Village how great I looked in my swishy leopard knit calf length skirt. I knew I had a bounce in my walk. I never felt more beautiful than in that moment.
The other, my Robert. He has a gift for making anyone and everyone feel appreciated. I used to watch women move in his direction like hummingbirds to a feeder, a warm wash of love embracing me because he was loved. I benefit from being around him. My persona has taken on some of his aura, like a suntan.
We move so often those whom I grew up with now appear in my life via social media and phone calls. I have a current circle of friends where I live. My garden is constantly being refreshed. There are the trees, the perennials, the reseeding annuals. Being a landscape designer, I make frequent forays to the nurseries. I guess I could go on and on. We all try to keep on keeping on.
Funny you should mention a complete stranger complimenting you on your appearance. Was it a man or a woman? And if a man, why was it not icky? I will be writing abput this topic. As for your Robert, I love “like hummingbirds to a feeder.”
Not icky because he was far away. He was in no way “after me”. Simply being complimentary. He reflected back to me the way I felt in the moment. Not a wolf whistle but words of appreciation. Across a parking lot! It might have been my birthday.
Rona, you had me at gardening- my favorite metaphor for just about everything. Then the missing sprouted, missing a friend that became a part of our extended family, and just when all was rolling along at a comfortable pace, she went away. A "routine" knee replacement developed into a complicated scenario, and she died as suddenly and jarringly as the ringtone of my cellphone that announced her death. Mary was one of many losses I have experienced, but it was, is, the loss that feels the deepest. We knew each other for years before we became friends, then family, and I sometimes think we made that special connection at just the right time in both our lives. Every single thing that has happened to me since I lost her has taken on the added grief of not having her by my side. We shared two grandchildren, and each time I sit down in a metal folding chair to watch one of those children light up my heart with their music, their dance, or their beautiful personalities, I feel an empty chair next to me. I always will.
Beautifully put, Janice. Your Mary is a radiant example of what I call a “new old friend”—someone you’ve known for years whose place in your life revealed itself when the moment was right. I’m seeing a new old friend this evening and wish you could be sitting down with Mary.
It helps to read your story. Memories surface and vanish, and the feelings come back quietly. A little glimpse at a time of each wonderful person, lost, loved and remembered, is all I want.
Growing up an only child, friendships took on great importance. And yes, it has been necessary to redesign my garden over the years. What I find interesting is studying the connections. In my youth, laughter and humor drew me to most of my friends. These days I gravitate toward those comfortable in their own skin, people that leave me feeling centered and peaceful. And of course, I still love to laugh with friends. I can't imagine how different my life would be without my friends. 👭👭👭
Beautiful, Rona! “I used to envy girls who were hailed from passing cars. I was never invited to the party, never caught the attention of a fun-loving guy with a gift of a smile. Yet I could almost believe I was going to a party that night, to rest my head on a warm male shoulder, while Smokey Robinson sang, “I Second That Emotion.” I love this passage. So much yearning in it and in Bruce’s whispered, “Time.” And I love the questioning of whether a minor friend exists. I think not.
I have lost dear ones from my own garden. I will sit with this metaphor, by the way. Grateful for mine, remembering the beauty of nurturing it. ♥️🌻🌷
I’ve come to think that after a certain age, everything we write is about time, although it doesn’t always seem so in the writing. Glad you enjoyed this in your usual specific fashion.
I really loved this essay and the analogy to a garden. I have to say I tend to my garden of friends very attentively, better than the garden in my backyard. I still maintain friendships from decades ago, the oldest a friend from preschool. My friends range in age from youngsters to nearly 90 year olds. My holiday card list is almost unaffordable to maintain with the ever increasing price of postage! When I gather with friends in my different friend groups, the common theme is how well I keep everyone connected. I take pride in this. I think my mom set the example of how to maintain and nourish friendships. I remember, back in the day when long distance calls were a significant expense, she would spend a good part of every Sunday calling her friends that lived far away. Rates were cheaper that day. This included Romania where she was from, Mexico where she lived during her teen years, and Chicago where she lived the first 18 years of her marriage before we all moved to Tucson. Lucky for me, long distance expenses aren’t a thing anymore and I can talk with my sons in NYC and England for nothing anytime I want to!
The most significant friendship I lost to death was my older sister Linda. At 64, she suicided. It’s almost exactly 9 years now. I don’t hurt as much anymore, time has helped. But I still long for her and will never fully understand her choice.
I’ve not lost too many friends yet but so many are ill…dementia, brain cancer, breast cancer…I think about our old friend Marino, 87 now. We see him weekly and he seems so robust…but he’s 87. I think of my friend Gail who lives in Rochester, NY. She’ll be 90 this summer. Her voice is youthful, her energy rivals a much younger person, her attention to politics and movies and books is modern! But she’s nearly 90…Then there’s my 6 year old surrogate granddaughter who is moving with her family to Tallahassee in 2 months. Who knows the next time I’ll see her. We’ve promised to FaceTime.
And there are a few friendships that withered and I’m still perplexed why as they were important friends to me for a time.
All this is to say, your essay today was very provocative. Thank you!
Amy, that’s quite a diverse garden you’ve created. A six-year-old! When I was a child, I had a couple of adult friends who affirmed me simply by enjoying my company. They weren’t looking for gratification, unlike my parents. What a gift!
Annabel is the daughter of one of my son’s best friends. They met when they were Annabel’s age, in the first grade. Annabel and I have been having play dates since she was 3.
I'm sorry for your losses. I, too, lost a sister to suicide (16 years this July). And a sister-in-law (5 years last month). Those losses made me sad, angry, confused. This many years on, however, I see how some people just can't take what this world dishes up. My brother said it was like she was on fire and nothing in the world would put it out. It was the only escape to relief. For some people, the misery has no "out," no end, no extinguisher. I have come to terms with losing them and I have made peace with their choices, as sad as it still makes me that they had to go. I hope you have also found peace.
Suicide is the hardest loss there is. I haven’t experienced it personally, although I have witnessed the agony of many others. I’m sorry for your continuing loss of your sister and sister-in-law.
Thank you.
Thank you, Shonda. I’m so sorry for your losses, too. I was angry with my sister at first but mostly I was so sad for her, that she was seemingly suffering in silence as we didn’t realize how truly distraught and depressed she was until too late. The guilt I carried was rough and I still feel some of that. But now, 9 years later, I just miss her, wish she was still here. She’d be so excited about my son’s upcoming wedding this summer.
Substack needs a hug emoji. Sending one now...
Such a poignant post, Rona. My husband and I just had a conversation last night with old friends about the people who drift from your life. With age has come a deeper appreciation for lasting friendships and a shrinking of the ego and worries about impressions and appearances. I’m tending my bouquet with more care.
We started having these conversations around age 50, and now the topic is part of the fabric of our lives. I mostly enjoy being older. I don’t miss 35. But losing people never gets easier.
A beautifully paced and structured essay, Rona. How wonderful, those recurring visions of a friend.
I look back, at a landscape littered with the burnt remains of friendships, and wonder what happens to those who aren't skilful gardeners, who don't stay in one place to cultivate plants that last beyond one season.
It seems to me that the rituals of friendship have changed. I used to be in the habit of picking up the phone to call people I hadn’t heard from in a while, just to talk and maybe set a date for getting together. This was common in another era and made a reappearance during Covid, when people were hungry for connection. Apparently phoning out of the blue is now considered bad manners. We have just about lost one of our tools for maintaining the friendship garden.
This essay has inspired my next essay. May I quote you in my essay on this topic? I love this image:
"I look back, at a landscape littered with the burnt remains of friendships, and wonder what happens to those who aren't skillful gardeners, who don't stay in one place to cultivate plants that last beyond one season"
Hi Shonda. I'm happy for you to quote me. But our joint debt is to Rona for her beautiful essay.
Thank you, yes, and I plan to share ample attribution and a link to her post. I have had a post about friendships rattling around in my mind for almost a month, but wasn't sure how I wanted to approach it. Rona helped kickstart my mental processes.
This popped up onto my computer just as I was finishing the many comments to David Roberts' latest contribution. Do serious people on Substack have the time to do anything besides read on Substack? I sometimes wonder.
On friendship, I share very deeply the importance you attribute to this aspect of our lives. Indeed, a post of the subject is brewing beneath the surface as I write, stimulated by my recent trip to Turin. I rekindled there a very special friendship with a woman I liked 'at first sight' 40 years ago, rather like falling in love without the sex, but have never seen much because of the sheer distance between us. And I spent an hour last evening talking to what I told my visiting grandson was 'my oldest friend' (met age 18) and he disagreed because he knows my 'oldest friend' who is 99. We see each other little, again because of physical distance (she in US, me in UK), but have long intimate catchups talking as if we saw each other yesterday. The warmth between us spreads mysteriously across the Atlantic via the telephone.
And oh my God, the friends lost. I have written elsewhere of my young German gay friend (he was under 30, I was 50) who died of AIDS thirty years ago but I remember with such warmth. We worked together on my book on AIDS, but were close long before that. Or my Belgian gay friend who I also worked with who died totally unexpectedly awhile back. I was incredibly close to both of them. Or my close friend from college who never engaged in small talk and was endlessly perceptive and interesting. All so very very different. All so missed. As you say, there is a piece of oneself that 'blooms' with each. With luck, that isn't lost with their passing.
Thank you, as always, for your lovely writing.
Thank you, Ann. I know what you mean about “falling in love without the sex.” What a glorious feeling.
This brought tears to my heart today… missing Nigel, the good man who loved me when I was too young and traumatised to accept love… and Jonno, the bad boy who annoyed me more than anyone I’ve ever known and loved winding me up. If they’re watching over me together, I’d love to eavesdrop!
Thank you for these tender memories, Jody. We all have Someone. A garland of Someones.
So lovely, Rona. I love the idea of a garden of friends. I'm sorry about your friend, Bruce. Cancer got my friend, Teal, in 2007. One of the special, unique things about Teal was that she always strapped her purse strap inside her seat belt on purpose, so that no one could open the passenger door and steal her purse. When I my husband or I accidentally do that (it happens more often than you would think), I think of her and smile.
What an endearing and distinctive memory. The thought of someone trying to steal my purse through the passenger door has never entered my mind (from the back of a chair, okay). Perhaps I lead a sheltered life. I'm sorry for your loss of Teal.
This was a tough one to read because as we get older I find people fall by the wayside more often. Or even worse, die. The past few years for me has been eye-opening in the friend department. One estranged herself from my life many years ago for unknown reasons, which made it a very hard pill to swallow when her son reached out last year to tell me she died suddenly at the tender age of 45.
For me, friends are very few and far between since Covid. It feels like people just drifted and I can't blame them. So did I.
Kristi, I don't know where you live but it sounds hinterlandish. And it's pretty clear you spend your working day in a home office. I find that it's harder to make friends when I am not meeting people every day in a social hub, whether it's a Pilates class or a workplace. My longest and deepest friendships took root at Miss Chatelaine magazine when I worked there in the 70s. Even so, I've found the past few years a fruitful time for new friendships. They begin online, and some stay there. On my travels, I've been able to meet virtual friends and deepen our connection. While passing through Edmonton a couple of years ago, I looked up one of my virtual friends, who hosted me for a day. I'm so glad I did.
I live in Calgary and yes, aside from daily dog park shenanigans, I spend most of my time at home. I left my corporate job in 2011 but still have one loooong-time friend from there. Similar to you, I have many friends from my traveling days (pre-covid). They ALL began as online friendships and I met SO many of them from all around the world while traveling to just one destination. I've got some that I consider family out in Ontario that I met as a result of travel. Our families are even all intertwined now. It's pretty cool.
Cool, indeed.
What a delightful friend.
You bring two people to mind. One a complete stranger who shouted across a parking lot in Westlake Village how great I looked in my swishy leopard knit calf length skirt. I knew I had a bounce in my walk. I never felt more beautiful than in that moment.
The other, my Robert. He has a gift for making anyone and everyone feel appreciated. I used to watch women move in his direction like hummingbirds to a feeder, a warm wash of love embracing me because he was loved. I benefit from being around him. My persona has taken on some of his aura, like a suntan.
We move so often those whom I grew up with now appear in my life via social media and phone calls. I have a current circle of friends where I live. My garden is constantly being refreshed. There are the trees, the perennials, the reseeding annuals. Being a landscape designer, I make frequent forays to the nurseries. I guess I could go on and on. We all try to keep on keeping on.
Funny you should mention a complete stranger complimenting you on your appearance. Was it a man or a woman? And if a man, why was it not icky? I will be writing abput this topic. As for your Robert, I love “like hummingbirds to a feeder.”
Not icky because he was far away. He was in no way “after me”. Simply being complimentary. He reflected back to me the way I felt in the moment. Not a wolf whistle but words of appreciation. Across a parking lot! It might have been my birthday.
Rona, you had me at gardening- my favorite metaphor for just about everything. Then the missing sprouted, missing a friend that became a part of our extended family, and just when all was rolling along at a comfortable pace, she went away. A "routine" knee replacement developed into a complicated scenario, and she died as suddenly and jarringly as the ringtone of my cellphone that announced her death. Mary was one of many losses I have experienced, but it was, is, the loss that feels the deepest. We knew each other for years before we became friends, then family, and I sometimes think we made that special connection at just the right time in both our lives. Every single thing that has happened to me since I lost her has taken on the added grief of not having her by my side. We shared two grandchildren, and each time I sit down in a metal folding chair to watch one of those children light up my heart with their music, their dance, or their beautiful personalities, I feel an empty chair next to me. I always will.
Beautifully put, Janice. Your Mary is a radiant example of what I call a “new old friend”—someone you’ve known for years whose place in your life revealed itself when the moment was right. I’m seeing a new old friend this evening and wish you could be sitting down with Mary.
It helps to read your story. Memories surface and vanish, and the feelings come back quietly. A little glimpse at a time of each wonderful person, lost, loved and remembered, is all I want.
A little glimpse is all anyone gets, I think. Wishing you many more.
Growing up an only child, friendships took on great importance. And yes, it has been necessary to redesign my garden over the years. What I find interesting is studying the connections. In my youth, laughter and humor drew me to most of my friends. These days I gravitate toward those comfortable in their own skin, people that leave me feeling centered and peaceful. And of course, I still love to laugh with friends. I can't imagine how different my life would be without my friends. 👭👭👭
Oh, don’t I know the feeling! The people most comfortable in their own skin are often those with a healthy sense of humor.
Yes, isn't that the truth. Thanks for sharing this lovely post. The story of Bruce is wonderful.
Smell of cut grass at work today - I was a child again, laid down in the garden, sun with wood pigeons and dog not yet gone x
The right place to be, with the right company.
‘The mini quiche circuit’ I just loved that
Thank you, Kate. You know, they weren’t even tasty. Mass-produced crust and hrd filling.
Beautiful, Rona! “I used to envy girls who were hailed from passing cars. I was never invited to the party, never caught the attention of a fun-loving guy with a gift of a smile. Yet I could almost believe I was going to a party that night, to rest my head on a warm male shoulder, while Smokey Robinson sang, “I Second That Emotion.” I love this passage. So much yearning in it and in Bruce’s whispered, “Time.” And I love the questioning of whether a minor friend exists. I think not.
I have lost dear ones from my own garden. I will sit with this metaphor, by the way. Grateful for mine, remembering the beauty of nurturing it. ♥️🌻🌷
I’ve come to think that after a certain age, everything we write is about time, although it doesn’t always seem so in the writing. Glad you enjoyed this in your usual specific fashion.
I love this. Thank you for these words!
"People I barely liked when they were young have grown lovable with age as they shuck the disguises of youth."
Whether they were less lovable long ago, my brain (although in reality, shrinking) seems larger. Maybe more empty spaces to fill up.
Thank you, Erika. Good to see you back.
That moment, a gift. Cherished forever.
Indeed. I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget.