An Ode to a Friend

“Congrats on finding the courage to put this into words-most never could. You always were the best of us-now other people get a chance to see it too.”- March 14, 2025

His wasn’t the only heartfelt response that I received after putting some of my most vulnerable moments out into the universe. But it was an opinion that, for the last twenty years, I cared about, good or bad. The sentiment of an old friend who I wanted to do proud. Even though he wasn’t a big part of my life when I made the decision to go to treatment, and he didn’t know all of the details about what got me to that rock bottom, Ryan Goldschmidt (“Goldie”) was a constant, unwavering presence that I came to count on.

There was an era where we saw or talked to one another every day; he was a lead character in my world during the time between graduating college and figuring out what things would look like long term. We were never really more than best friends, although at times I thought I might be in love with him. It wasn’t just me- he had an uncanny ability to make everyone feel like they were the center of the universe. In his eyes, you were the funniest, most attractive, smartest and most interesting person in the room. This, paired with his sharp wit and an infectious laugh meant that he picked up admirers wherever he went.

But it wasn’t his undevoted attention or the encouragement or his perpetual smile that made him so special. It was how he conveyed that there was nothing I could do that would change how he felt about me. When all I cared about was what other people thought, and my self-worth was completely tied up in how I looked, I needed a friend who let me be authentic. Without judgement, he offered me a space to let my guard down and take a break. I came to crave the understanding and rapport between us, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.

In spite of his support, he couldn’t pull me out of the quarter life existential crisis I experienced during that time. I was severely depressed and completely lacked the direction or motivation to do anything with my life. I wanted to start over and I didn’t think I could do that without a drastic change to my environment. So I made plans to drive 500 miles south to a place where I hoped that I could finally grow up. The decision to abandon this life and the people in it without knowing what lie ahead was not an easy one, but leaving Goldie behind hurt the most. He was my Scarecrow; I knew things would never quite be the same between us, and that I would miss him the most of all.

Knowing that I was a serial dater and felt completely adrift without a boyfriend, Goldie’s advice was, “Just don’t start dating someone as soon as you get to Charlotte.” I promptly ignored him and when he came to visit for the first time on my 26th birthday, I’d had a new beau for about six months. While it wasn’t easy for any of my boyfriends to wrap their heads around the fact that I had a male best friend, those fears were quickly eliminated when Goldie showed up. It was impossible not to enjoy his company, and the way he could integrate himself into any situation was truly a sight to behold.

I spent years desperately chasing relationships that made me feel how I did inside of our friendship; confident, relaxed and worthy. When I met John and those things existed between us as well, I knew that I didn’t have to look any longer. And inevitably, John became my best friend. Which is how things are supposed to be. After our wedding and the birth of my two children, Goldie and I saw each other less frequently and knew less and less about the everyday occurrences in each other’s lives. My plan had worked and we had both grown up, but it was not without some significant change and loss.

But every year on July 7th I sent him a video of my kids singing him happy birthday. It always took him at least 24 hours to respond, but when he did it was thoughtful and appreciative, and would inevitably lead to an easy back and forth where we told jokes and reminisced. And I was comforted that our relationship was still intact in spite of the lack of effort it would normally take to nurture a friendship. I knew I could get in touch with him whenever without feeling self-conscious about the long pauses in between.

On May 2, 2025 I talked to him on the phone for 14 minutes. Something made me call him and something made him answer. There was no discussion of anything relevant; nothing but laughter and old memories. I hadn’t heard his voice in ages and listening to him call me “Ellis” (even though that hadn’t been my last name for almost 15 years) was incredibly good for the soul. My heart was full as we promised to call more often, and he went back to being surrounded by the group of people he’d walked away from just to take my call. It wasn’t the last time we conversed, but it would be the last time I would hear his voice.

He has left a hole in my heart; I know that I would not be the person that I am today without his friendship. I never told him that; I was too busy letting him build me up. There is nothing that I can say now that will do his life and his legacy justice, but I couldn’t let him leave me behind without saying that I will still miss him the most of all.

Authentically Yours,