The sense of losing a friend is similar to the utter loss of having your favourite “tong” shut down. The tin-shed recluse, right around the corner alleys of your friendly neighbourhood that used to offer you that therapeutic, addictive tea. The tea which you kept buying on credit, owing to the good, old, rusted familiarity with the tong, finally ceases to exist making you feel directionless.

Life-changing episodes like graduation, a new job, moving to a foreign land for higher studies along with a million other reasons hover in the air for good things like friendship to come to an end. Surprisingly, there might sometimes be a profound lack of any reason at all. One might feel that their closely-knitted pack of friends is unsusceptible to the natural ebbs and flows of life and that they would always stay exactly how they remained in the photo album from their first trip together, laughing and carefree.

You will want to hold on to the bond you once shared with all your strength, but you will lose your grip slowly. However, this is not a downbeat article trying to convey a cynical message about how it’s not worth holding on to people. In fact, I am here to tell you that it’s okay.

When I stumbled upon this particular phase experiencing static in the connection I had with my then best friend, I turned into an anxious version of myself. I could not come to terms with the fact that we both were going on with our lives. That we would one day achieve all the professional feats in life we both had dreamt about as teenagers but now we will never giggle about our coworkers. But that is how life functions. Regular conversations turn to occasional pleasantries and that plan of catching up remains dormant, occasionally becoming active in the form of a group chat which is usually muted later.

I did not need any earth-shattering epiphany to figure out that all these changes were part of growing up. I found myself smiling one evening while listening to a song, to the memories of that friend who was then a mere stranger. I concluded I still harboured the same amount of love for her in my heart and that realisation materialised into a text sent to her. We had connected after a long time. It did not mean we had a hysterical, tear-jerking reunion, but it felt like closure.

I understood that everyone we come across has a different purpose to fulfill. The weird bunch of people we pick up from a world of strangers and label as friends may not always offer a life-long of service.

It is best to shake off all the hostile sentiments we carry with us every day of our lives for people with whom we once used to burst out laughing. Funnily, it is a lot easier to accept that we enjoyed the time we were given, that we had provided each other with fulfilling memories which would present themselves spontaneously on a lazy afternoon triggering a million dollar smile. Forgiving ourselves and these friends who faded away would be the best closure a person can offer themselves. After all, memories should be look upon fondly or else they just might decide to haunt us.

Iqra suffers from wanderlust, dreams of discovering the Loch Ness Monster and occasionally complains about Economics. Send her conspiracy theories at iqra.kashmir53@gmail.com