Lumpy Potato Paste & Friendship

My Best Friend

 

We met freshman year of highschool. Your name was Adam. We were kindred spirits and I can’t remember a time when we weren’t fighting or when we weren’t best friends.

postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow, natachia barlow ramsey, mataernal mental health, suicide, death, postpartum depression
Adam and I 2007

We eventually had to be separated in class because we would talk and laugh the entire time. We would try to make it through, but inevitably we would draw photos on paper from across the room (sort of the retro version of texting) and get kicked out.

Right from the beginning, you would get mad at me for not eating pepperoni when you wanted to and I would get mad at you for not doing something I wanted.
When I moved to Virginia when I was 15 and came back to Maine at Christmas, you were the only friend I came to visit. You wouldn’t get me tissues out of the bathroom and I had been crying, so I had this huge snotball I had to cover with my hands. I was so mad at you.
When your parents took me in the year I turned 16, I used to come into your room at night to watch Johnny Carson. I would enter with a jacket and blanket already on. You had the AC cranked and it was winter. In Maine. But that’s how cold you always liked it.
Months could go by and we would have moved or not been talking and would see each other. The conversation would pick right back up as though I had seen you yesterday.
There were times were had serious fights. So serious we didn’t talk or see each other for more than a year. I couldn’t even recall all the times we told each other to Fuck off Asshole. But we told each other I love you even more.
You’re still my friend, and I miss you. I miss knowing that no matter what there is someone that has my back. I miss that kind of loyalty in a person.
I miss having someone around that I know even if we disagree, even if we don’t see eye to eye, it doesn’t mean you aren’t there anymore.
I miss knowing my daughter has someone that would always take her call and when she texts you about her ultra sound, you ask her if she’s having an alien baby. She thought that was so funny. I loved you for that.
I miss that you always knew when it came right down to it; certain things just trumped other things. Arguments could be put on hold. Humor could always be used to get over stuff. Grudges could just be done away with.
I loved that we could openly disagree with each other and our feelings wouldn’t get hurt. Or if they did it was short lived.
postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow, natachia barlow ramsey, maternal mental health, suicide, death, postpartum depression, friendship
Friendship – Getting things ready the night before he was married

I remember the sheets I had gotten for you to sleep on. You said they felt like butter. I say that sometimes now.

How we went looking for wet battered whole fried clams, and drove an entire day looking, until we were both so hungry we stopped at this small roadside place, and you fell in love with the whole fried clams there. We left and never found the place again.
How many times did we go to a party the winter I stayed with you and your parents, you would always say, go directly upstairs and not to visit with your mom because we’d had a couple wine coolers? (ugh remember those) I’d stand there like a deer in headlights.
It was your dad, that not only showed, but taught me that mashed potatoes could be wonderfully creamy, fluffy and not taste like cold paste with hard lumps. I fell in love with mashed potatoes at your house and stopped having to shove cold, lumpy, potato paste into my sweater pockets to flush down the toilet after that winter.
We used to tease your mom and say that eventually we were going to walk in and the entire house would be knitted. There were knitted toilet paper covers, dolls, dollhouses, vacuum cleaner covers, doilies, socks, clothes, miniature furniture, etc…
It’s been almost four years since the day Wendy called and said you didn’t wake up. Sleep Apnea with an enlarged heart.
There’s always a moment where everything freezes. Things tighten, everything feels very slow and very fast all at once. You question, asking what, why?
I am never prepared. The day of your funeral my daughter totaled a car.
postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow, natachia barlow ramsey, maternal mental health, suicide, death, postpartum depression, friendship

I miss you. I miss the world being made out of people like you. Obnoxious, loud, brazen, loyal, kind, and true.

Are people just not made of that kind of stuff anymore? It’s a rare day I

would ever “unfriend” someone (as though that’s actually possibly) in this digital age.

I have people I have to block for obvious reasons. But it takes a lot and I do mean a lot for me to actually cut someone completely out of my life. We all need time and space. There are times we have to walk away for a bit to get some perspective.
Sometimes we need to grow apart a little, so we can grow together a lot.

I forgive easily. But I am okay with that. I would rather be that person. It takes a lot of energy to hate and hold a grudge.

I miss my friend that I just knew that no matter what at the end of the day, I could count on. It’s hard to find people like that anymore.

You were my friend for 23 years and it just wasn’t long enough.

 
 
 
 
~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~
 

 

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