Hardly a week goes by that I don’t think of you

So began a recent e-mail from a former close friend still in the movement we left. How are you? he asked, are you getting our news?

I wrote back that I’d last heard from him a year ago, at which point I said I would be happy to keep in touch if he was ready to hear us out on our story. This year, I went down the line a little, saying that the movement and its leader were behind my removal, that no-one among them would take any responsibility for that or any of the subsequent mess, and that this had led us to call a lot of things into question. I reiterated that I’d be happy to keep in touch if he was willing to hear us out. I also asked him what his perspective on these events was.

It’s now ten days since he wrote.

For the first seven of those ten days, in spite of myself, I was willing to take him at his word and believe that he did really think of us that often. Having put him out of my mind for most of the last year, day and night I found myself hoping for some renewal of meaningful contact. After all, if he thought about us that much…

Now the disappointment is back with a renewed vengeance. That opening line seems to have just been so many words in the wind. Like so many others, he’s apparently carrying on securely in some comforting version of reality. Meanwhile, here, it’s back to the bafflement of how people who supposedly place such a high value on integrity can be so hypocritical.

Or perhaps he’s on holiday?