Jessica's* family was so close to mine that we spent holidays and vacations together, and my sister and I called her parents our godparents. We'd spent the first 30 years of our lives in happy compatibility, and I assumed it would always be that way.

Jessica was 11 years younger than me. When I got married, she was in my wedding. When it was Jessica to have our babies, we threw baby showers for each other and made sure we always honored the special friendship we'd grown. We were at the hospital for the birth of each other's first babies, lovingly gushing over the newest addition to our new three-generation deep friendship.

Both of our families were over the moon to learn that Jessica was pregnant with her second child — a girl! I already had three young daughters and my sister had one, so we were thrilled to be able to welcome another girl into the mix.

One day I received a text from my sister and all it said was, "did you hear what Jessica is naming her girl?"

"No, what is it?" I responded, feeling excited for the big news.

It turns out Jessica had decided to name her daughter the same name I had chosen for my daughter: Elsie. My daughter's name was very special to me. I had chosen the name for my daughter a long time before I had even conceived her because I had seen it in a special book, and I loved it instantly. I chose this name because it was a very unusual Jewish name (at the time), and I knew no one else would have it (later it became very popular).

My heart sank. Why would she do this? There are so many names to choose from, so why would she choose my special name? And if she wanted my name, why wouldn't she at least ask me if it was OK — out of respect?

I thought about it for a month. I went back and forth about whether I should say something or not. I talked it over with my mom and sister, and we decided it would be totally acceptable to send an email to Jessica sharing some of my feelings.

It was important to me to convey my message in a kind and loving way, so I took my time to compose what I felt to be a well-written email. I told Jessica I was feeling badly that she chose the same name as me, and that I wished she had talked to me about it first. My intention was to share my feelings and get them out in the open so I wouldn't have to endure a lifetime of resentment every time I saw Jessica and her daughter.

Jessica responded hatefully. Her anger toward me was palpable. She heard not a word I said. She understood not a single sentiment of my feelings or opinion on the matter. She took my attempt at "lets communicate about this and move on" and crumpled it up and threw it away.

That was three years ago, and no one has spoken to her since. We invite her to do our annual pumpkin picking and she is busy. We invite to our Christmas Eve celebration, which we've done since we were children. She has other plans.

I've contemplated my email many times over the years. Was it right? Was it wrong? I think, it was just a name, after all, and maybe that was just something I should've let go. But I made the decision to send the email because so many of our gripes with people or situations are left unsaid, inspiring resentment.

I wanted to rise above that and be the person who opens lines of communication. I wanted to send a kind message expressing my feelings. I don't want to keep everything I feel bottled up inside me. I want to let go of regret. I want to let go of resentment.

Shouldn't we all be allowed to express ourselves to our friends and family as long as it is done with kindness and respect?

Because of this, I have lost a friendship and greatly strained a longstanding family connection. I also think, if this friendship ended over a name, surely it couldn't have been a very strong one.

I have thought a lot about friendship and forgiveness since this all happened. I've thought about what it means to be able to love and forgive people for their mistakes — whether those mistakes are temporary lapses in judgment or a fundamental breakdown in what we each deem as right and wrong.

Why is it so easy to remove someone from our lives when they once represented something valuable and irreplaceable?

Sometimes relationships break down over the years. We go our separate ways as we evolve into different people with each turning decade. Now, I recommend we take a deeper look inside ourselves if we're willing to let something go so easily. In my case, maybe it was more than a name.

* Name has been changed.

Megan Woolsey Megan Woolsey lives in Northern California with her family of six, including triplets and a vivacious big sister.

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