I'm kind of persona non grata these days up here in Northern New England. I don't mind. I mean, if people are really your friends, they are really your friends.
I'm not sure any of them were. Some of them have never experienced the love of their lives, and some of them live in a state of quiet desperation.
But I have one friend. He's not alive anymore, but he was the love of my life. His name was Terun, and he was a Kossack, and here he is: 
When I was awash in grief, for his loss, I was abandoned by my friends who showed up for a funeral and even gave money for a planting which I still have yet to get around to (I live on an island). I said horrible things to people. To people who like to gossip. To people I love, and hoped to have an ongoing relationship with. They abandoned me. To a one.
I wish I could be as strong as my neighbors who have also experienced loss. Though what I have learned is that they have never lost the love of their lives. Most of them remain single or miserable.
I won't be at Pride this year because it would be my anniversary (and GreenMountainBoy02 and I were actually married) and it would be his birthday.
I won't be with the people I thought were my friends because they are happy to not have me around.
What a community, indeed.