The kind of tears you shed for a friend when it's theirs and not your heart that's broken, though you wish you could take their pain and spread some on yourself so they don't hurt so badly.
Just spent some time with good friends, one of whom has been abominably hurt. The noise we made was pregnant and silent, and once again we found ourselves with the iceberg syndrome, where what you saw (or, rather, heard) was only the tip of everything else that was there but had no decibel rating. A perpetual group hug even as we sat separately in different spots in the room.
[The trouble with being an introvert is trying to gauge the balance between being an active friend (versus a passive one) and avoiding being intrusive. I wish I'd know what I could do to ease their pain. But that's self-conscious babble. This is not about me.]
How to be a friend when shit happens.
Sometimes you can be there as a shock absorber and topical analgesic.
Sometimes you can be there for them when they need a sounding board.
Sometimes you can be there for advice (when asked).
Sometimes there's nothing to say, and no need - you can be there as silent but sure support, a reminder of how much they're still loved by you, even if it's not the kind of love they have just lost.
Lots of other kinds of love is still better than love betrayed.
We love you, dear.
P.S. We ate your cake, MoFo. And it was GOOOOOOOD.
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