I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues

Let me tell you all what, the post you’re about to read has become quite a curious situation for me. I wrote a vastly different version several weeks ago that was a spectacular and sentimental celebration of one of my nearest and dearest friends as he embarks on the next chapter of his life and moves out west.

Not going to lie, I absolutely loved what I’d written, in fact, there were some moments that I wept as I wrote because through my reflections, I realized just how proud I was of the dynamic individual he’d become over the past little more than a year we’d been friends. He had grown to mean quite a lot to me and even though he was moving away, I was certain our friendship, like so many of my others, would only be strengthened by the distance. Well, since writing that piece, something quite dramatic happened to our friendship: it ended.

To say I was blindsided would be the understatement of the decade. I’d lost friends before of course, but never like this. There was no bad blood, no fighting, no ill-will, no nothing, it was just suddenly over one evening after what felt like, by all means for this friendship, a standard issued conversation.

Suffice it to say, my emotional range over the past three weeks has run the gamut. It started with deep seeded confusion and surprise where it remained for a few days before becoming an unnatural for me medley of both sad and mad until the sadness faded and the madness elevated and anger took complete control. I remained perched on my hateful high for a couple days before gliding back down to general confusion. Those first two weeks really were an emotional whirlwind, but I feel like now that my emotions have leveled off, I can compose this alternate piece that still celebrates what was had while acknowledging what won’t be.

Although I catch a lot of flack for it, especially from many of the youth in my life, I love to use the term relationship to describe just about every ongoing social situation I have. I very much believe that every friendship is a relationship. One may not be romantically involved, as many believe the term relationship must mean, but to deny there isn’t love on some level would be a farce. I absolutely loved my friend and the relationship we’d built together and like every single other relationship I have, it was wholly unique unto itself.

The age range of my core friends varies greatly and this one definitely brought down that average age significantly as he was a year shy from being able to join me at the casino at the start of our friendship, but our relationship began because I saw an individual in need of a friend.

Without divulging too much about him, he suffers from depression, which is never anything to be ashamed about, but something always to be acknowledged, so this past spring when I would be going to the Missouri Botanical Gardens, the St. Louis Art Museum, or some such place, I would invite him along to help him get out of his house and more importantly, out of his head. An exposure to the outdoors and the arts was something I felt anyone could benefit from and benefit us it did.

Our friendship continued to strengthen with each new adventure and as we learned more and more about one another, our time together increased exponentially. Before we knew it, he was part of my core group of friends and hanging out with me, Melissa, and the like on a regular basis as though he were a permanent fixture in our lives that’d been there all along.

Because of our difference in age though, this friendship was never just that. Although I cannot truly speak for him, I’m absolutely certain through his wealth of words and actions as well as much feedback from others, he viewed me as more of a mentor and parental figure than one of his buddies, which was fitting because more often than not, I definitely felt like he was more like my son than my friend.

I use the word “son” here because that’s what so many people started calling him on a regular basis to me, so rather than fighting it because I’m only 29 and would obviously have just been an older brother, I went along with it because depending on how you look at things, I might actually be 36 and well, he could very well have been my son. Regardless of age, I was definitely looking out for him and his well-being way more than I ever am my other friends, except for my other son and to a lesser extent, my daughter, but this faux familial scenario is a whole other blog for a whole other time. For someone who doesn’t want children, I’ve somehow managed to find myself with three, heading towards four, but like with any true family, I’ve grown to love each one of them both individually and for the incredible relationships we’ve developed with one another.

I’m a firm believer that we build our own families as we progress through life and everyone does end up with one familial role or another and these individuals have most definitely become my family. Not everyone may choose to adopt this term or see it in this sense, but the definition of the word family is most certainly applicable to any strong grouping of individuals. After all, most all of us know, this is most certainly not my first foray into an extended family like I speak of, my California family still remains as important to me in my present and future as they do to my past.

So, while this son may have chosen to emancipate himself from me, so to speak, I can’t say I harbor any negative feelings whatsoever. While I certainly don’t love what he did to me, I do still very much love him and wish him all the best in his future. He could never see his own potential and failed daily to recognize his worth, but I found it impossible to see anything else but limitless potential and infinite worth. My biggest hope going forward is that when he looks back, he remembers like I know I will, how we were there for one another when we needed one another, just like any true family should be.

Now before I truly wrap this all up, I need to touch on the title here, as many of you have hopefully recognized, I named this blog after one of Elton John’s phenomenal songs, I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues. This jam was our song. It happened back when Melissa and I went and saw Elton in March and I was talking all about the concert non-stop afterwards. Well, at that time, my son was unfortunately unfamiliar with Elton’s catalogue, so I sent him a handful of Elton’s greatest hits to explore and he really took to this one and before you know it, he and I were singing it all the time together. In fact, we performed it at karaoke once, which unsurprisingly we received a standing ovation and what felt like a never-ending barrage of high-fives and fist bumps, but I mean, honestly, if you’ve ever heard me sing, this is pretty much to be expected, so no big deal, whatever. I’m just glad he was able to share the spotlight with me in this now wonderful memory. I mean, we really killed it, in the original work I’d written to be posted I included the video, but I definitely won’t be here, so just know we were both outstanding.

I have several friends that I share songs with and anytime I hear any one of those songs I automatically think of the friend that it’s emotionally tied to, this song has become that for he and I. Fittingly enough though, the lyrics of I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues tell the story of a loved one leaving another for what’s depicted as a temporary period of time. I always recognized that these lyrics were in fact perfect given his imminent move, but I never imagined he and I would be where we are today. So now I can only hope these lyrics remain somewhat prophetic for us because like Elton sings to his friend and I now sing to mine, but more than ever, I simply love you, more than I love life itself.

As always, THANK YOU so much for viewing! Please feel free to leave me a comment below as I LOVE reading and responding to them! I’ll return soon with another all-new post, but until then, I wish you all, all the best!