Death is the one universal (With the possible exception of taxes, but with the news as it is, I’m less sure about taxes nowadays). It comes to us all, sometimes stealing up on us in the night, and sometimes all guns blazing. And the death of a close friend or a relative is a very difficult thing to deal with, albeit something that occurs more and more as one ages.

Stranger than this, however, can be the death of an old enemy. A sparring partner, a fighter. There’s the old adage about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, and perhaps thats a truism, rather than trite advice. Well, this is something that happened to me recently. Suddenly, even in my own hindsight, my old enemy becomes somewhat rose-tinted.

And I miss her. All of a sudden, the shouting matches, the passive aggressive silences, the little disagreeable notes across Facebook, all over, all finished. I miss all that. How does that work? How does it even make sense? Perhaps it’s an oddity within me. I can feel alive under those situations. When I can feel angry, upset, when I shout, all of a sudden I’m most me. No tact, no diplomacy. No polish. Nothing between me and the world to say “Like me.”

It’s not as easy to be that person around a friend. A friend will try to cheer you up, and buck you out of it. A friend will hold up a mirror, and show you what they see. Which is good. Until you feel you can never match up to what they see. Whereas when an enemy does the same, there is a drive to be better than what they see. There is a wave of anger to ride, to surf into a brighter future. In the wild parts of emotion, there is truth and a drive to move forward.

It’s a phenomenon seen in fantasy novels. The hero comes alive when set up against the nemesis. The hero gets the kick up the butt he needs. When a friend is a friend, there’s a lot less butt kicking. When Sam is kicking Frodo’s butt up Mount Doom, he’s doing an awful lot better than when he’s acting as a crutch. When Hermione is raging at the dynamic duo, she’s really dong a lot better than when she’s just supporting.

Strength can come from dissent, just as it can come from pulling together. Sometimes, dissent is necessary. Sometimes, you need an enemy just as much as a friend. Sometimes, you need an enemy more than a friend, to cut through the mists of self-pity and anger, without worrying about the effects. Because in such things, catharsis is found.

And there is is. I miss that dynamic of anger, the chance to justify anger within myself. I miss the opportunity to become better than the worst others see in me, because sometimes to be the best that others see in me is such a strain. I miss all of that, and I miss a person I was pleased to think of as a nemesis.