Dear “Mark,”
For years, I proudly called you my best friend so I could have never imagined the reality that exists today between the two of us. Your wife worked for me, our families vacationed together, we did psychedelics together in the Tennessee countryside, and we spent many nights celebrating life together. You were an uncle to our daughters and a fixture in our lives and then, I lost you. My actions pushed you away, my words ended one of the most fruitful professional partnerships that I’d ever had. Your wife was a rock in my professional world and she deserved more and better. I am forever grateful for the friendship that you and I shared and the work that “Margaret” and I were able to accomplish at 2PM. There aren’t many things I wouldn’t do for the chance to fix it.
In our time as close friends, it was your patience and poise that always impressed me most. You were never too high and never too low. You were methodical in your goals and your ethics; you were patient with me and strong in your belief that I’d be worth your time. You taught me the value of that patience and that good or bad, life has a compounding effect.
Our last conversation was in October. Through your subtle demeanor and careful words, you expressed so much anger and disappointment in me that you wouldn’t communicate to me just how badly I’d ruined our friendship. You once said to me: “three of us cannot be friends, it’s four or nothing.” I understood what you meant; two couples cannot be the friends that they are capable of if there is friction between two of them. But that was when there was still hope for reconciliation.
When I made the attempt to work things out with Margaret, I lacked the humility to take responsibility in that moment for a tweet that minimized the work of a company that was near and dear to her. Taking responsibility for amplifying that tweet was the right thing to do and I should have. But instead, I relied on the instincts that have gotten me in trouble, time and time again. I isolated myself and dug in my heels.
What I learned about myself in these moments is that I am often incapable of seeing through the dense fog of my own ego, even when I know that doing so is would be in my best interest. I am not sure that we will ever speak again, at least not like we used to, but just know that it leaves two voids and I believe them to be unbearable. I wish that I was a stronger friend in some ways and a more flexible friend in others.
Lesson: if you have a shot to fix it, go all the way.
Web Smith