A letter to a "friend"

It's been five years now since we spoke an amicable word. It seems like a long time, but it some ways it seems like yesterday.
I think we both know by now that we fell out for the right reasons. Things were not working for anyone in our group and it seemed there was no way out but to cut our losses and run.
It's still hard though.
You never did get to go to my wedding, or share the news of my pregnancy and you have never met my gorgeous son. You would love him. You always did have a soft spot for children.
You've never known of the depression that haunts me, or the fact that in the last 16 months I have laughed and cried more than I ever thought possible.
And I was never there when your relationship when tits up and when your ex got married. I don't know if you were okay with it, or if it still hurts.
I don't know if you are happy. I hear you are; and I hear occasionally from your mother and she lets me know what you are doing but not how you are doing.
As you know we have seen each other from time to time on the street and we both bowed our heads and walked on or mumbled a quick hello. Sometimes I know there is nothing to say; sometimes I wish I'd just said something.
I miss the "Jazz hands" and the memories of some mad things. I wonder do you still remember our "trauma tops" bought when you came to Belfast to escape a family row and went out on the lash?
We've both made half hearted attempts in the past to talk again- a passed on phone number, a letter or card- but the other has never been in the right place to accept that.
I don't want to be a huge part of your life; but a coffee or a glass of wine and the assurance that you are doing okay would be nice.
I won't send this to you. Just put it out there in the ether. If you are meant to read it, you will find it...