Incompatible, irreconcilable differences, parting of ways…it doesn’t matter how you phrase it, but a long-term relationship has ended for me. I’ve known him a decade longer than I’ve known my husband, and he has outlasted any girlfriend I’ve ever had. Joe has been present in times of tremendous joy, pain, sorrow-he has seen it all, and he sat and listened without judging. That’s hard to come by these days. And the relationship ended so abruptly that I haven’t had much time to process my emotions until now.

My first memory of Joe is from the third grade. I was eight, and he came with me to the bus stop every single day. Perhaps it seemed odd to my teachers and friends how tightly I hung on to Joe, but he was my comfort, much as the pink blankie is to my daughter Lexi. Even when people teased me about my relationship with Joe, I never wavered. I was made of sterner stuff than that, and I wouldn’t be bullied to give him up.

In middle school, I developed a horrendous case of acne, and it caused me pain. Physical pain. My face hurt from it all, and I didn’t want to face the world. And I certainly didn’t want to take school pictures. I lost a best friend that year because I was too ashamed to tell her that I didn’t want to be around her because of her too-perfect skin. Years later, she asked me why I withdrew from the world during those years, and I didn’t have a very good answer. But I do know that I turned to Joe during those years. Maybe I felt comfortable with him because of his skin tone-brown or black and with imperfections.

Through high school, I was on again-off again with Joe depending on my fickle mood. What can I say? I chose Joe when it suited me and when I was sure that other people around me liked him, too. But I made up for my ever-changing moods in college. He came with me. And when I met my husband Tripp during my freshman year, I explained to him about my relationship with Joe. He admitted that he was puzzled and wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to Joe, but every Monday night, Tripp would faithfully pick me up at 10:00pm after my work-study job and take me to go see Joe. And in time, Tripp really learned to love Joe as much as I did.

My most memorable moment with Joe was on 9/11. I was an hour into a new job when the world changed forever. People came in constantly to see me and Joe and share their anguish, their fears and their pain as they watched the television and wondered about the fate of loved ones. Joe and I didn’t know these people, but we were all bonded together during a very stressful time and shared it together.

The first several months of motherhood were exhausting, and I remember that during Lexi’s middle of the night feedings, I would think about Joe obsessively. I know! I look back now and wonder why I wasn’t able to appreciate those times with her more. Over the past few years, though, Joe has become an addiction, a compulsion. A colleague once suggested that I seek therapy, but I always knew I could walk away if I really wanted to.

I just never banked on saying goodbye so suddenly though. These past few years have been intense. I took him with me to Iraq. I sought him out in Guatemala. But more recently in Uganda, he was elusive, and I came home and realized that things that changed. Either I had changed or he had, but we weren’t buddies anymore.

It has been a wonderful relationship, and I appreciate how long it lasted. I have to recognize that we go through seasons of life. People have come and gone throughout my life, but I was sure that my love affair with coffee would never fizzle like this. So I’m resigned to never cry or laugh with a cup of Joe anymore. Tea pales in comparison, but I’m sure I’ll become addicted to it over time.

Now, the only addiction I have left is chocolate, and I’m holding onto her tightly!