We're not friends anymore

I never converse with my oldest friend anymore. I no longer even try. When I call her, I get the familiar voice mail message telling me her mail box is full. She doesn't answer my emails. I suspect this doesn't have much to do with me personally. I've come to believe she's avoiding creditors. I know she owes her former landlord $8,000 -- money she has no way of paying. Years ago, when she was on the verge of losing her car, she stopped answering voicemail and email, too.

Ignoring voicemail does not preclude her from making outgoing calls. She doesn't want to talk to me. I don't know why.

I hear from her regularly. She IMs me silly videos of old ladies laughing and falling down, doing yoga and falling down, getting drunk and falling down. Apparently this is how she sees our friendship. I kinda get it. When we saw one another regularly, from the time we were in first grade until she moved to California, we did laugh all the time. I can't recall the last time we laughed together.

When we were both working -- me in advertising, her in hospital administration -- we used to exchange long emails. Chatty and detailed. I know that, on my end, I'd add a few lines to the latest email between meetings or conference calls, or before I logged off for the day and went home. It seems counterintuitive that now, when we're not working, I never hear from her in any meaningful way. I kinda get this, too. Her life isn't going that well. She no longer has an apartment and is sharing a ranch house with three other seniors. They're like The Golden Girls -- they each have their own bedroom and share the kitchen, living room and bathrooms. I wish I thought she, Jonathon, Robert and Karen were like Rose, Blanche, Dorothy and Sophia, spending their evenings in the kitchen sharing their lives over cheesecake. I hope that's what's happening. The alternative is that she's consumed by depression or health issues. I don't like thinking that, so I brush it away. After all, there is nothing I can do about it from this distance. She doesn't pick up her phone and she doesn't answer emails. All I can do is give a "thumbs up" to the latest clip of old ladies laughing and falling down.

It bothers me that, as little as I know about her life, that's how much she knows about mine. She doesn't even seem curious. Naturally this hurts my feelings.

But I know she can't. With her bipolar condition, her health issues and her financial situation, every day must be a battle for her. Her cousin and her son, those two she loves more than everyone else, seem to have had enough of her drama and cut ties. I've concluded she just doesn't have the wherewithal to be an equal partner in this relationship. 

I love her. She holds my history and I honor that. So I will keep the lines of communication (such as they are) open. All that is required of me is to click on irrelevant videos. And to adjust to life without her. Because the friendship I knew is gone.