A Girl Named PJ

Yesterday morning I said goodbye to my very best friend here in Omaha. She and her husband, toddler son and dog moved back East to live near family. While I’m devastated that they left, I completely understand their motivation for going, and I even hope that JB, Levi, Briscoe and I can do the same soon.

I probably didn’t tell her often enough that I consider her one of my best friends. We threw around the adjectives “good” and “close” a lot, but she really was the best friend I had here. We met five years ago, shortly after she and her husband (then her fiancé) relocated to Omaha for his job. I had only been in Omaha for two months, having also moved here because of my fiancé’s job, and the four of us were “set up” by members of the Jewish community. Matchmaker, matchmaker…

She quickly became “my person” — you know, the one friend on whom you can always rely. I can’t even count the number of times she drove us to the airport or ran an errand for me when I was tied up with the baby or fed me dinner when JB was deployed. I slept at her house when we had a carbon monoxide scare and when I couldn’t figure out why the alarm system was going off while I was home alone. She was even in the waiting room with my parents (having just picked up my dad at the airport) while Levi was being born and loaned us practically all of the clothing Levi wore this past year.

My Omaha feels different already. It’s quiet and empty. I know that she and I will always be close but long-distance friendships are hard. Ask any of my faraway friends, the ones who live in New York and Connecticut and Washington, D.C., and they’ll tell you that I’m terrible at staying in touch. For some reason, calling somebody who lives across the country on their cell phone feels different than calling somebody locally on their land line–especially to a person like me with an aversion to talking on the phone. I know we’ll still chat, but it won’t be the same as when I knew that on the other end of the receiver, she was a mere two miles away. And no longer living seven minutes apart, we’ll now have to see each other via FaceTime on our iPhones. And, hopefully, the occasional visit.

There is something familiar about the sadness and loneliness that I’m already experiencing. I have felt these same emotions when JB deployed, when I was left behind at home while he was off on a new adventure. Although I had known the date of my friends’ departure for weeks, I was suffering from a serious case of denial. Neither the “For Sale” sign on their lawn nor their garage sale nor packed boxes made their move feel real. I was at their house when they packed up the car to head for the airport, and it wasn’t until our final goodbye hug that reality set in: I was being left behind. And then I cried.

The next couple of weeks are going to be difficult. In order to not feel so lonely I will have to stay busy (a coping mechanism I learned from being a military wife). Luckily there are many happy occasions on the horizon that will keep me occupied, including Levi’s first birthday on Thursday and his party on the 22nd. We have lots of family coming to town to celebrate, so I’ll have my hands full with them. The chaos surrounding his special day will be stressful but also a welcomed distraction, I’m sure.

I’m not sure how to end this tearjerker of a blog post without making it even sappier, so I’ll just throw it over to you: Have you had to deal with a friend moving away? What are some of your tips for maintaining a long-distance friendship?

{photo taken July 10, 2012}