Friends Forever?

Years ago a friend from high school told me that I ‘did friend’ really well.  She is no longer my friend. This loss has been deeply disturbing to me.  She and I met in French class, a language she was better at than I, speaking out in French with no hesitation.  She was  in the ‘popular’ crowd, which I certainly wasn’t, but we enjoyed talking about ideas beyond the boundaries of the classes we shared.  Once we left high school we lost touch. When I was visiting my parents after my first daughter was born over forty years ago, I called her mom and was surprised to discover we lived a mere 90 miles apart.  I called, we resumed our friendship, and have been friends every since.  Until the year before last.  She had decided to retire, and was looking for a new place to live to complement her new life.  Although I warned her that my small earthy-crunchy town on the Olympic Peninsula might not be her cup of tea, and she actually embarked upon a car trip to explore other places, I knew she would end up here.  Which made me very uncomfortable.  My friend was quite unhappy. Her third marriage had recently ended in divorce, and although I had suggested she talk to a therapist, she had made no move in that direction.  We spent hours on the phone rehashing her issues; I knew she felt dependent upon me.  I reminded her that I was not a therapist. I also reminded her that when she had suggested I  get back into counseling after my second divorce, I had done so immediately.  Her resistance concerned me. I also told her about my apprehensions around her proposed move. I had recently begun a new live-in relationship, which had not been a smooth transition for him or for me and was still consuming a lot of my time and energy.  I was writing a new novel, and spent at least three hours every week day in that pursuit.  I was involved in the peace movement, which also took time.  I only saw my new friends a few times a month: all of us were too busy for anything more.  Nevertheless, as I had expected, she moved here.  Although she had bought a home before actually arriving, she asked if she could stay with me until she got settled.  Even after her new home was painted, and her furniture in place, she stayed.  My new partner and I often repaired to our bedroom and closed the door to find privacy.  Finally I asked if she would move to her own house, clearly an unwanted suggestion.  Then she started dropping by to ask me to take a walk, often arriving when I was glued to my computer.  On one such walk I asked if she could call before she ‘dropped by’, which infuriated her:  I knew how depressed she was and should make room for her. I again mentioned counseling which provoked more anger.  I am not saying she was wrong: I could have found more time.  The truth was that I didn’t want to.  She was even more bitter and angry about her life after the move and I didn’t have very much room for that, which indicates a lack of compassion I suppose.  I said I was sorry I wasn’t more available, reminding her of my original ‘concerns’, but her anger did not abate.  Our long-standing friendship was in pieces. When I, and a friend of mine who lived in her neighborhood, suggested she join some organizations in town like the Unitarian Church, of course she refused.  She made one friend walking her dog, but her focus was still on me and all that I wasn’t doing.   Eventually she told me she was putting her house on the market and leaving.  I actually felt relieved.   I still ask myself questions about the boundaries of friendship. Should I have told her that I didn’t spend more time with her because I found her bitterness difficult to witness, which was why I kept suggesting counseling?  Should I have stuffed it, and seen her more often? What kind of friend would that have made me? Or was I right in spending time with her in limited doses, and getting on with my own life?   One of my new friends in town suggested this to me:  ‘As we get older, and change, people fall away, even old friends, because our lives have taken a different direction than theirs.  Very few friends, if any, remain for life.’  I guess I should count myself fortunate since I still have two of those: another from high school, and one I made when our daughters attended the same pre-school.  I believe that is because we have been able to accept real and often large differences over the years, and still find nurturance from one another.  I regret this has not been true with my other high school friend.