Wicked Wednesday

I Miss My Friend

I have two best friends – not including John Brownstone. They’re closer in age to my mother than to me. They both entered my life at big turning points where I had to decide to go this way or that. They watched me do stupid stuff and loved me anyway. They are rocks in my life, immovable, sturdy, solid, always there.

They’re the type of friends you don’t have to talk to everyday. Hell, we’re all too busy for that anyway. When we see each other in person, sometimes once a year, sometimes less, it’s as if we’ve been apart for five minutes. The two of them were supposed to finally meet each other, these two great influences in my life, in October at the wedding.

One of my best friends died last night.

She told me about her cancer diagnosis at Christmas and two months later, she was gone.

She didn’t want me to tell her how sorry I was for. She didn’t want me to cry. She didn’t want me to fret or worry.

“Just be your sarcastic, snarky self and make me laugh.”

It’s the only thing she ever asked of me. Ten years of friendship and that’s all she wanted.

I tried. I really did. But I thought there was more time. I thought I’d see her later this month. I thought she’d be at the wedding – worse for the wear, of course, but there because she was a fucking warrior.

She taught me how to be a single mom. She was the friend she wished she’d had during her divorce 20 years before mine. She showed up even when I didn’t know I needed her. She wouldn’t let me pay for anything. She included me in her family. She was everything to me at a time when I thought I had no one.

What did I give her in return? I don’t think it was very much. Certainly not comparable.

Her daughter, a few years younger than myself, called me yesterday. They sound so much alike I thought it was her. I was ready to give her hell and make her laugh. Instead, it was a terrified young mother watching her own mother die.

She let me say goodbye because she knew how much we meant to one another. My friend, through moans of pain, wailed, “I don’t want to say goodbye yet!”

I told her, in no uncertain terms, this wasn’t a fucking goodbye. Because I didn’t want it to be true. Because I didn’t want a goodbye. Not ever. I told her I loved her, that the boys loved her, that she was the best friend I’d ever had.

But I didn’t lie to her and tell her she’d beat this. We both knew this was goodbye.

After the call ended, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing, trying to call John Brownstone. He was where I couldn’t reach him. I was alone. I haven’t been truly alone in a long time, in part because before there was him, there she was. The birth of my youngest. The day my ex became violent. The day I met John Brownstone.

My mind clicked off. I don’t know a lot about disassociation, but maybe that’s what happened. I went back to work. I took a phone call and did an interview. I planned dinner. I started packing for London. Tears trickled slowly and silently down my cheeks through most of it.

In the very back of my mind, a voice whispered, “What am I going to do?” Did I run to her, several hundred miles away? Did I keep packing? What do I do? What do I do? WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo?

She answered for me, without even knowing it.

I got the text late last night. She was gone. The service won’t be for another couple of weeks.

I cried again. This time, John Brownstone was there to catch me.

Then I stopped again. Can you be both numb and filled with guilt? Maybe so.

What had I ever done for her? Truly done for her? Had I ever been as good a friend to her as she was to me?

I still don’t have an answer to that. She was the shirt-off-her-back, help-a-stranger, do-the-right-thing-no-matter-the-cost kind of person. She was better than almost anyone I know, especially me. Maybe I was never meant to give her what she gave me.

Maybe the legacy is that, hopefully, I can be that type of friend for someone else. Be the support, be the rock, be the cheerleader – all without asking for a damn thing in return other than friendship.

I’ll go to London because sometimes the only way to survive is to throw myself into something else. For a few more days, I’ll pretend there isn’t this new reality with a big fucking gaping hole in it.

But goddamnit, I miss my friend.

This is probably my most depressing Wicked Wednesday ever. If I brought you down and you need cheering up, you know where to go. I don’t want to be the downer this week, but I also need to feel connected to something and someone, and this sex blogging community of ours is a good place to not feel so fucking alone. So here I am…

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am a sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, international speaker, kink educator, and all-around kinky woman. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have happy healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!


  • I am so very sorry to hear about your friend Kayla. I am really looking forward to meeting you on Friday, and if you’ll let me, I’d like to be your friend and give you a hug and whatever else you need. Safe travels and see you soon.

    Anna. xx

  • I am so sorry for your loss!

    You mentioned disassociation and I wondered if that’s not what I am ‘feeling’ since my mom is so ill… everyone is worried about me and I just keep on telling them I am okay, and somehow I feel very little, even though deep down I am sad. I live from day to day and don’t want to think about the immediate future too much…

    I hope Eroticon can offer you some distraction.

    Rebel xox

    • I think that sometimes our minds protect us from the worst of our emotions. Maybe this is how it’s doing that for both of us. Eroticon was wonderful and let me ignore reality for a short period of time. I thought of you often, and hate that you’re going through this with your mother. ((HUGS))

  • I am so very sorry for your loss…
    You were a great friend to her too.. probably more than you know dear.

    She lives on forever in your heart…

    Hugs and prayers to you.

  • So sorry for your loss. You can honor her memory by going to London and kicking ass. I’m sure that’s what she wanted for you. ((hugs))

  • My darling sweet lady, I am so sadden to read this. Loosing a loved to cancer is simply horrid, but loosing a best friend is the worst thing in the world! I’m not going to say I know how you feel, as grief is a very personal thing. I do know what it is for a best friend to die, I lost one of mine to complication of cvid 3 years ago. So I offer 3 pieces of advice , that helped me a little, from my darling nana(yep I’m a child , but my nana rocked!) 1)feel what you feel, scream , cry and rage, but let it out. 2) talk , talk and talk, it helps 3) drink tea , eat fruit cake and hugs yourself . (Ok so drink coffee and eat what ever cake you like, I’m a tea and fruit cake girl) . What she meant take care of yourself and love yourself !

    We will all keep you and you friend in are thoughts and prayers!

    Love and healing thoughts ,

    Mouse , kitten , Babe and little bear x x x x x

    • Thank you, all. Unfortunately, I too have had to deal with this grief before (cancer sucks) and I agree completely. I’m trying to let myself feel what I feel and go from there. ((HUGS))

  • You didn’t bring me down. You needed to say this and I’m glad you could. I know from experience that if you try to hide from it and ignore your grief, it gets you in another way. I also know that grief is like a spiral, coming and going as it uncoils through out your life. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to share it all. Many of us have been there.

  • I am so glad you got to know and love this wonderful lady, and be so blessed by having her in your life. Grieve how you need to and keep the memories of her close to your heart. I think best way to repay her is to pay if forward. You have my deepest sympathies.

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