The Clarity of Grief: What Losing My Partner Taught Me About Friendship

The people who leave you or misunderstand you when you need them the most—when you are in absolute turmoil—belong to a special category of vermin (oops, people) whom you never forget for the rest of your life. It is strange how people you have grown up with and known for decades can suddenly just flip off your radar.

For me, it all happened exactly five years ago. That terrible moment in my life brought immense clarity about who my real friends were, and who never truly were to begin with. Death, especially at a morbidly young age, is distressing enough on its own. It becomes even more overwhelming when accompanied by the sudden, lifelong responsibility of fending for another human being.

It is funny how people choose to come and speak utter rubbish to you at such a heartbreaking time. The comments thrown my way ranged from, "Oh, you shouldn't have kept rubbing the fluids that came out of the body while it was placed in the crematorium." To this, I promptly replied, "That was not a dead body or a piece of meat. That was my partner and the father of my child, and he looked like he was in discomfort." This absolute "gem" came from someone my late husband deeply adored.

His death brought to the fore the terrible decisions we had both made as a couple when it came to befriending people. He definitely had a few select, lousy characters around him, and apparently, so did I. Those relationships and friendships ended the moment he passed, and I haven't looked back since.As a good friend of over two decades always tells me: "You're an empath, Gayatri. That means people will always come to you with their life issues and drain you; they are called energy vampires. Pick your circles very carefully and stick to them. You can't solve everybody's life problems, and you shouldn't—it's not your job. You have plenty on your plate."

Perhaps he is right. I have always felt for people more than they have ever felt for me. I have had girlfriends cry on my shoulder over one-night stands that didn't turn out well, yet none of them were anywhere in sight when I lost my partner of 13 years. They were clearly questionable friendship choices. I never reached out to those folks after my husband passed, because I see their personalities with so much more understanding and clarity now.

Terrible life experiences are important for character building, but ultimately, it is your battle to fight alone. Dumping it on friends and family is not the solution—not now, not ever. In my late husband's words: "Figure it out." That is exactly what I have been doing ever since my life changed five years ago.

Coming back to the main point of this piece: always remember the ones who chose to leave when you needed them the most, and make wiser decisions when it comes to your social circles.