Friendship

“A friend is someone you want to be when you want to be alone.”

Evan shared this definition with me in eighth grade and is one whom I often wish I could be with when I need to be alone. He also taught me that a good friend comes to your home and politely accepts any food that is offered, but a true friend walks in and helps himself! I once borrowed his sweater and ended up tearing it during recess. Even as a young teenager, rather than getting frustrated, he assured me I was far more important than any article of clothing. It has been many years since we have seen each other, but we both know, wherever we go, that we will always be friends.

I have many friends like this. Friends who support and bring joy to my life. Unfortunately, we often fail to tell those close to us how much we care for them, in part, because we feel we can do so at some later date. However, this is not always the case and it is important to express our love often to avoid future regret.

I have had three close friends pass away unexpectedly in car accidents over recent years.

Trevor passed away while I was on my mission, and oh how I regretted not being there with him. The day I found out was by far the saddest of my mission — I have remembered him often since that day. The last time we hung out was at a father and son campout. We stayed up well into the morning talking by the campfire. When one fire died out, we’d wander until we could find another family ready to go to bed, then, promising to watch their fire until it went out, we continued our conversation. Into our third or fourth fire we got bored and decided to see how many girls we could get to text us back at three in the morning. As I recall, we had no trouble getting anyone to respond. But that’s just how Trevor was, everyone wanted to talk with him.

Another time, he organized a few of us to sing at a church party. The song he chose to sing was “That’s What Friends are For” from the Jungle Book. I don’t enjoy singing in public, but with his friendship and encouragement I was always more willing to step out of my comfort zone. I was always impressed by his ability to maintain his standards while making everyone around him feel perfectly comfortable. I don’t think he ever knew how much I looked up to him.

Joshua passed away a few years later. Throughout high school, he was always a consistent source of emotional support. It is funny, with all the activities we did together, the memories I remember most are so simple. Walking and talking — a simple activity that always brought peace and perspective. I don’t remember him ever complaining or spreading rumors. Instead, he focused on others and did much to improve my life.

After writing me monthly throughout my mission, we had grown somewhat distant. Regrettably, the week before his passing, I had the distinct impression that I needed to call him. I know it was more than simply a thought of my own because it happened on more than one occasion that week. I remember being justifiably busy and scheduling a time to call him the following week — an opportunity that never came. I don’t recall our last conversation, probably just a passing hello on campus, but I know I failed to express how much he meant to me.

Jozenn and I became friends through our involvement in the LDS Institute in Colorado. I would often take a “needed” break from research to walk over to the Institute building where I knew she would be working on homework. The times when I really needed a friend to talk to (those times seemed to come a lot during my time at CSU), I knew I could call her and she would drop whatever plans she had to shoot hoops and offer advice. Even months after her passing, I have found myself reaching for my phone intending to call her when I was in need of a friend. She was always fun, supportive, and real.

My last memory with Jozenn was after church the day of the accident. I was visiting with a member of the bishopric when she approached, asking me a quick question about our related responsibilities. After providing the needed information, I thanked her for her work, and turned back to my previous conversation. It dawned on me that my brisk dismissal may not have communicated the gratitude I felt so I turned and called to her as she walked away. This time, in all sincerity, I expressed my appreciation and let her know that there were many who benefited from her consistent service. We would pass each other one more time in the church library, but that was the last conversation we would share. I have replayed that memory over and over in the past year — how I hope she knows how much I truly meant it.

I remember the flood of emotion I felt later that night as I found out about the accident. The pain and sadness that comes from losing one we love can be difficult to bear.

Ironically, those weeks were also the most joyful out of all my time in Colorado, not because we lost a friend, but because the value of friendship multiplied throughout the community. I loved seeing the way Jozenn’s influence was able to bring so many people together. In those weeks, no-one said anything unkind or belittling, even in jest. We listened without judging, spoke without condemning, and loved without condition. We were more patient, more aware, and more anxious to serve. We recognized the relationships we had and committed to value them more fully. There were no such things as popularity or gossip, simply inclusion and friendship.

In the moment when someone we care for leaves this world, we find ourselves suddenly aware of all we have been blessed with — more aware of all the wonderful people in this world. Large responsibilities lose their significance while small, cherished moments with those we love become all that matter.

I think of the counsel so often expressed by President Monson to show our love while we can: “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the worst are these: it might have been!” (John Whittier) and hope that I may learn to value relationships and express my love before they are lost. In this way, instead of regret, I may remember my friends with a satisfied feeling of gratitude, knowing they knew of the value they added to my life.

And so, let us find value in friendship. Let us send a letter, pick up the phone, or drop off some blueberry muffins. We never know how long we will enjoy these wonderful gifts we call friends.