All I Need is a Cape and a Side-kick

I had one once.  A side-kick that is, I still have a cape or two.  We'll call her Marie.  I lost her before my divorce, which sucks because that's one super-hero kind of mission I could have used a side-kick like her for...

A few months ago a friend and I were talking about relationships and the process of letting people "in" to the deepest places of ourselves- exposing vulnerabilities, trusting completely.  As we were talking I realized that every now and then, you meet someone that you don't actually have to "let" in.  Somehow, there's an effortless connection that can't be explained.  There's understanding and knowledge that comes without experience.  I suppose this is where the term "soul mate" comes from.  Marie was that kind of side-kick to me, so you'll understand when I tell you that this story is the deepest, most troublesome one I have yet to tell.  In fact, I promised to never allow myself to lose someone like that again and just to be sure- I promised myself I wouldn't allow that kind of connection with anyone again either.  (Silly me, when I decided that- I had forgotten about the "I didn't let anyone in" part...)

I met Marie when I was 5.  She was younger- kind of a crybaby actually.  I didn't mind her in the beginning.  Then it turns out, she was ALWAYS around.  She really irritated me after awhile, but I still sorta cared about other people making her cry.  It annoyed me that she looked up to me so much.  I obviously didn't have stuff figured out and I felt a lot of pressure to not mess up in her eyes. Sometimes I would rescue her from her annoying (her words) little sister and take her to a fancy restaurant for dinner- especially for her birthday.  I taught her about cloth napkins, boys, annoying little sisters (I have two to draw on for intel), the importance of listening to her parents...

I moved away from that town the summer before she started high school.  Then her parents moved her family 3,000 miles away.  That was a rough year for her, so we talked a lot.  That's the year I met the guy I married.  She came back to be in my wedding.

Eventually, she moved back to Montana and lived with us to help nanny and to get a fresh start for herself.  Over the years we did everything together.  I was the cautious balance to her free spirited nature.  I left her in Montana when we moved to Alaska, but not a single day went by that we didn't talk.  Eventually, I'm not sure when, she stopped being younger than me.  She had life experience that I did not have.  She had insight into people because of her experiences.  She was deep, in many ways- wise, funny, fun, smart, incredibly generous, spontaneous, compassionate...

This story is the hardest to tell, because I don't understand it.  She's gone.  It makes no sense.  I cannot seem to completely process the grief.  It's different than any other.  It is the knife that turns every day in my heart.  Sometimes,with something as simple as a glance at the clock, I nearly drown in a wave of heartache.  I miss Marie.

All I can possibly get out of this story is this:  We all have choice, every day.  Sometimes we make the wrong choice.  Sometimes those choices destroy the people that love us. That is all.