two shots of happy, one shot of sad

Ah, U2, your song titles always come through when I'm feeling uncreative.  Though "One Shot of Happy, Two Shots of Sad" may be more fitting.

For many (many) years, I have become a quivering basket case whenever any of my friends moves away.  And by living in Chicago, I've gotten lots of practice saying goodbye to people.  They leave to go to school, or to find a better school for their kids.  They leave for new jobs, new loves, new starts.  And I, being both sentimental and emotionally incontinent, have tended towards blubbering productions of grief whenever someone packs up from Chi-town.  I got a ticket driving home from Kerry's house the day she left for CA because I was crying so hard I missed a stop sign.  I've curled up in bed for hours of tissue-sniffling pathos upon leaving a Bon Voyage dinner or the inevitable "last hug goodbye".  Gifts, cards, parties, food, send offs.  Anything I can think of to demonstrate how much I will miss someone.  How much I love them.  And hopefully secure a coveted slot on the short list of people he or she will actually keep in the loop as to the goings on of life. 

So far, I'm happy to say, the now-long-distance friendships that have been dear to my heart are still dear.  And close.  And relatively up-to-date (Thanks Facebook!).  And BONUS!  Many have resulted in fabulous new vacation destinations.  San Fran!  Portland!  Nashville!  East Coast!  Africa!  Hooray!

But I realized this weekend, while talking with Hubs, that the desperation and panic and grief I have come to expect with the departure of a dear friend has sharply decreased since mom died.  Like I'm *almost* all cried-out from missing.  And/Or God's grace is letting me enjoy more confidence and peace about the longevity of friendship and the real ties that bind. 

Hubs and I idly pushed our dinners around our plates with our forks last night as we lamented JB, AB, and little GB's move to Maryland.  And I cried a slow drizzle of tears pretty much all day yesterday, beginning with GB's beautiful baptism, and not stopping until I went to bed.  They are our dear dear friends.  And we want them nearby.  So thoroughly friended are we that our DOGS are even friends.  Hubs had all kinds of nerdy adventures planned for himself and AB.  Most of them involved maps or video games.  And I had secretly planned to help tag-team the new kiddo with them.  Finally a close friend with a new baby near by.  Seemed like my chance to help and serve JB and show love for her in a time that she needed it.  As she has for me during so many years of tears and angst.

JB and I sat in a Starbucks on Saturday afternoon reflecting on the years of crap we have slogged through together, and expressing mutual frustration with the fact that now, finally, when things are looking bright for both of us, AB gets a job on the other side of the country.  We smiled at old stories.  We cried a little bit.  I have always marvelled at her remarkable ability to cry so elegantly.  We talked about visits and holidays.  I gave her the two Star Wars t-shirts I had bought for GB all those months ago.  He won't get to wear them until he is around 2 years old.  I wonder when I will see him again, and realize that he will probably be walking and maybe talking.  I look down at him and try to imagine him running around sporting an R2D2 shirt.  And I cry a little more.

I don't think I will dissolve into a puddle of freak out this time.  I've cried on and off for weeks now, and felt the hole in my heart rending larger every day that her departure comes closer.  But one thing that age has afforded me is good history.  And great friends.  And so if precedent is any reliable predictor, I can be more confident and calm when I declare into the blogosphere that the B's are only moving out of my city.  Not out of my heart, or my future.

Cheers to you, my loves!  Safe travels.