Breaking Free

This morning I found a lot of guilt was coming up during my meditation. Guilt I have been stuffing down for quite some time. Specifically, guilt surrounding not reaching out to my best friend right before she died. My reasonable mind tells me all the time "But you didn't know she was going to die!" Yes, this is true. I didn't...and I knew that she was in an abusive relationship and I wasn't able to be there for her in that very scary last month of her life.
Part of the reason I wasn't able to, is because she didn't want to share with me what was going on, but I knew. I knew what she was going through and I chose to follow her lead and sweep the fear under the rug instead of shining a light on it and meeting it with my love and compassion for her. I got scared too. I got scared that if her husband found out that she was sharing anything with me, not only would he hurt her, and their baby, but he would come after me. And so, when I texted her and asked how she was doing, and she lied and told me everything was fine, I chose to go along with the illusion, even though in my heart I knew she was in danger.
In that text exchange, I told her to let me know when I should call so we could catch up. She gave me her hectic schedule as an emergency room doctor, and I promised to call her. But I didn't. I never picked up the phone the weekend before she died to tell her how much I love her. And when her mother called to tell me that she was gone...the guilt crept into my whole self, and it didn't let go.
Some of the guilt stems from wanting to be the friend that she always was for me. She was my "person." She drove four hours one way to sit by my side in the hospital and crack a smile on my face, only to turn around hours later and make the trek back, so that she could work her shift at the hospital where she was doing her residency. She was the person I knew I could call for absolutely anything...good, bad, or indifferent. She was the one who appreciated my sometimes kooky sense of humor, without judgement. She encouraged me to follow my passion and never once did she question any decision I made. She stood by me through everything. So when it came my time to be her "person," I feel like I failed. Being unable to hold my friend up when her world was crashing down around her has held me in a prison of guilt.
Fear and guilt are really powerful when it comes to keeping one stuck. They grip you with talons so sharp, you are unwilling to break free from their grasp. Their power seeps into your psyche, contaminating your thoughts with "what ifs and should haves," and they hold you hostage, attaching themselves to the parts of you that are unhealed, making you believe that if you are released from their power, you will no longer be protected. You will not survive. You will die.
But this isn't true. All Fear and Guilt do, when they are left unresolved, is keep us stuck. Up until this morning, when I would think of my last interactions with Lisa, I would beat myself up immediately. I would get sucked into the vortex of their power and believe every last thought that crept into my mind until I couldn't take it anymore, and I would do anything I could to push it away.
But here is the reality: The reason we were such good friends is because we never actually had to say anything to feel like the other was supporting us. She knew, and I believe she still knows, that I was her "person" and she was mine.
When I look deeper at the guilt, I've uncovered a tremendous amount of sadness that she is not here, and anger that someone who said he loved her so much, could take away her life. But I've also uncovered a great deal of love and respect. She had a light within her that lit up an entire room. She stood by her beliefs, even when they weren't popular or when people questioned her. She had the ability to set aside differences, and stand in her truth. She could capture your attention with her humor and her laugh, and she had an appreciation for obstacles that posed a challenge to her getting what she desired. She never gave up. She was brilliant and she was humble. She healed people. And in her absence, she continues to heal me.