It’s hard to make friends later in life, but I’d made a great one in my 40s after a mutual friend connected us. We had a lot in common — both divorced and dedicated to our fitness and career goals. The first time we met, we bonded instantly and became close, fast friends. For two years, we talked weekly and made a lot of time to spend together, which isn’t easy when you’re a single mom and live 45 minutes away from each other. We meant a lot to each other.

She helped me through a really difficult time in my life and I was so glad to have her by my side. She was the friend who knew she could call me when she was struggling at any time, day or night, and I was there for her, and she did the same for me.

Then, we drifted. At the time, I figured we were both just busier and didn’t think much of it. We still saw each other on occasion and we still talked, but it wasn’t the same as it had been. I’m old enough to realize that all relationships go through seasons and everything shakes out all right. This was just a lag in our friendship, but surely we’d always be friends.

Then it got to the point where I was the only one reaching out, which I was fine with for a while. And then when we had plans, she constantly canceled or showed up late. I knew she was struggling a little with work-life balance, and I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to add any more pressure. She was already stressed, and I had other friends, my kids, and my career, and I was in a relationship at the time. But I did notice the change, and it did hurt.

I started to think it was me. Did I do something? Did I say something wrong? Her distance was telling me I must have done something. I asked her and she told me I hadn’t, so I quit asking.

Shortly after that, I sent her a text asking if she’d like to get together for lunch. She never answered, and about a month later I checked in again, asking her if everything was ok. Again, no answer. She was posting regularly online and seemed okay, so I knew she was safe and alive, but it hit me then that I was being ghosted by one of my closest friends. So, I just let the ship sink and I didn’t reach out again.

Yes, I was sad and hurt, but I’m not going to chase a friendship. That just feels awful.

Two years went by and she reached out wanting to have lunch at our favorite restaurant. It took me weeks to respond. It felt weird to hear from her all of the sudden, and I was upset she didn’t address the fact that she’d completely blown me off and sent a text like nothing had happened between us. I wanted more, and thought I deserved more.

I thought about it for a while, not sure what I was going to do. I didn’t want to just ignore her.

But in my heart, I believe my girlfriends all deserve a second chance. And I wanted to be open to see if maybe we could reunite and share the same friendship we’d had. I wasn’t ready to totally close the door.

So weeks later, we met for lunch. She apologized and explained she was going through some really awful personal stuff, and needed to keep to herself for a while. It was then I realized the ghosting, while it hurt, had nothing to do with me.

That was five months ago, and our friendship is even better than it was before. And while I still don’t feel like ignoring someone is the right way to deal with things, and I’m well aware she might do it again, I’m so glad I gave her a second chance and I’m not hanging onto any resentment or anger about it.

Really close friendships are rare. And no, they don’t always last. But I intend to be present when they are alive and thriving without wondering what will happen if they disappear. Because you know what? I’ve already been through that and I came out of it completely fine.

Diana Park is a writer who finds solitude in a good book, the ocean, and eating fast food with her kids.