No one talks about how much it hurts to lose a friend.
Not a fling.
Not a relationship.
But a friend a person you laughed with,
cried with, grew with.
When that ends, it’s a different kind of pain.
Quieter.
Longer.
Often, lonelier.
We made plans for the future.
Said, “I got you” and meant it.
But somewhere in the spaces
between missed calls, side glances,
and unspoken words, something broke.
And I kept trying to fix it—
patching cracks with effort,
silencing my hurt with grace until I realized…
I was grieving alone.
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity.” — Proverbs 17:17
But love, real love, isn’t silent when you’re hurting.
It doesn’t punish you for being sensitive.
It doesn’t fade when you finally speak up.
So how do you heal when a friendship dies,
but the memories still feel alive?
You start by telling the truth.
To God.
To yourself.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
I whispered prayers between tears.
“Lord, why does this hurt so much?”
And His answer came softly
Because you loved deeply.
And that love was real,
even if it wasn’t returned the same.
So now I’m learning:
Healing doesn’t mean forgetting.
It means forgiving.
It means making peace with the goodbye
you never got to say.
“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”— Colossians 3:13
I still think of her sometimes.
Not with bitterness,
but with a strange kind of thankfulness.
Because even though it ended,
I learned how to set boundaries.
I learned how to love myself better.
Healing after a friendship breakup
isn’t about moving on quickly.
It’s about growing through it,
with God holding your hand
through every silent ache.
So if you’re here, in this space between loss and
healing take your time.
Cry if you need to.
Pray when you’re empty.
Rest when it hurts.
You’re not alone.
You’re healing.
And one day,
your heart will feel whole again.
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Meeps Mama,
I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.
But I wanted to say something—to someone who might understand.
They say traditions are fading.
That people don’t eat at the table anymore.
Don’t clean up after dinner.
Don’t pray. Don’t dress with pride.
Don’t respect their elders.
Don’t make time for family.
Don’t read. Don’t keep their word.
But I do.
I still sit at the kitchen table.
Still wash my plate when I’m done.
Still believe in bedtime values, even if the world’s gone restless.
I don’t eat in bed. That’s not how I was raised.
I still pray.
Not always loud, but honest.
I still carry respect—for the ones who came before me.
I still make Christmas morning matter.
I dress like it means something.
I read like it feeds me.
I keep my word, even when no one’s watching.
I haven’t lost my religion.
It’s changed, sure—but it’s still mine.
I visit family.
I listen.
I remember.
The world might be drifting, but I’m still here.
Still holding on.
Still honoring what made me.
Thanks for this excellent read.
Your words are rare—real and genuine.
Thank you once again.
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You are a star. I appreciate your very kind words 🥰
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Very welcome
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