Isn't It Funny...

Isn't it funny how our subconscious actions speak more of our deepest emotions than we could ever hope to express? I've been packing - for the last few days actually - and when I was packing my bedside drawers I discovered soemthing strange: every letter I'd received from a certain friend (or friends I suppose you could say; they're married now and I never distinguished between the two as separate people) for the past year has been carefully opened, carefully put back in its envelope, and put in my otherwise unused top drawer.

The realisation that I had done this - and the subsequent unlocking of feelings - is challenging me to the core and I don't know why. Is it just because we're cut from the same stone? Is it because each other's tragic story is the same? Sometimes I feel like I am a horrible friend, because I would give anything to help him through his hard times but I'm stuck here, 500km away. Is that the truth? What do I do with a friendship that strikes a chord in the soul? What do I do when it's 500km distant?

even now as I sit here, just realising how important this nearly wordless friendship, this silent comradeship facing life together, has been to me... I wonder. What will become of it? Will I have other friends like him? The tears flood, but not from uncertainty. They flood from a place I haven't known for a long time, because I finally realise what it means, and why it's hurt me when I hit these hard times alone.

For now I will be content that one day, my friend, our struggles will be over... and then we shall stand triumphant together in Heaven.