FAIR-WEATHER "FRIENDS"

So, it's over. I will need time to mourn. It was never perfect, but I accepted it the way it was, and always will be in the reruns that populate any given television day.

How do I begin to process the end of something that's been with me for a decade? Throughout the weekend, as I continue to ponder life without the six of them, I experience a range of emotions.

Denial: How could it possibly be over, like forever kind of over? The endless parade of self-congratulatory/promotional appearance by the cast members (and yes, even The Rembrandts) on talk shows and entertainment/news magazines, while they seemed to indicate that there was indeed a final show to promote, simultaneously seemed to indicate that the six icons were in no danger of fading into memory.

Anxiety and fear: How would I ever fill the void of on-target, age-appropriate humor that Friends always brought into my living room/kitchen/dining room/study/bedroom/bathroom? Reality shows, upon which I am certain to pontificate another time, don't do the trick. And other sitcoms seem lame in comparison.

And then there's the betrayal. First, of course, was Matthew Perry's refusal to convert to Judaism and admit that he really wanted to be with me. That was hard enough. But when it comes down to betrayal's nitty-gritty, just look to the ditty. Weekly, that theme song promised that they'd be here for me, 'cause I'm here for them too. But now I know that it was all a lie. Or at least a truth of limited duration.

At the end, there's a wistful sadness...It reminded me of the time that my best friend moved to Canada. We swore we'd keep in touch, and did for a while. Then we faded. I was upset, then angry, then accepting. That was life. Change happened. The question was, how to deal with it...

Friends transition in and out of each other's lives. And just because our friends (or our Friends) aren't always going to be there for us in an active way, we can be grateful for their past support, and look back on the times we laughed and cried together. Because we'll always have our memories, rerunning in syndication.

FAIR-WEATHER "FRIENDS"

So, it's over. I will need time to mourn. It was never perfect, but I accepted it the way it was, and always will be in the reruns that populate any given television day.

How do I begin to process the end of something that's been with me for a decade? Throughout the weekend, as I continue to ponder life without the six of them, I experience a range of emotions.

Denial: How could it possibly be over, like forever kind of over? The endless parade of self-congratulatory/promotional appearance by the cast members (and yes, even The Rembrandts) on talk shows and entertainment/news magazines, while they seemed to indicate that there was indeed a final show to promote, simultaneously seemed to indicate that the six icons were in no danger of fading into memory.

Anxiety and fear: How would I ever fill the void of on-target, age-appropriate humor that Friends always brought into my living room/kitchen/dining room/study/bedroom/bathroom? Reality shows, upon which I am certain to pontificate another time, don't do the trick. And other sitcoms seem lame in comparison.

And then there's the betrayal. First, of course, was Matthew Perry's refusal to convert to Judaism and admit that he really wanted to be with me. That was hard enough. But when it comes down to betrayal's nitty-gritty, just look to the ditty. Weekly, that theme song promised that they'd be here for me, 'cause I'm here for them too. But now I know that it was all a lie. Or at least a truth of limited duration.

At the end, there's a wistful sadness...It reminded me of the time that my best friend moved to Canada. We swore we'd keep in touch, and did for a while. Then we faded. I was upset, then angry, then accepting. That was life. Change happened. The question was, how to deal with it...

Friends transition in and out of each other's lives. And just because our friends (or our Friends) aren't always going to be there for us in an active way, we can be grateful for their past support, and look back on the times we laughed and cried together. Because we'll always have our memories, rerunning in syndication.