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The house next door to me is occupied, but for me, it hasn’t been the same for several years.

That’s because my dear, lifelong friend moved out when she found happiness and got married.

It was sad for me to lose a great neighbor who was always there when I needed something — especially her red soup that reminded my of my mother’s recipe of my childhood.

The sad news was she was moving out — the good news was she would be living in Dallas, not that far away. So I would still be one of the beneficiaries of her red soup, her Missouri, her chili sauce and, most importantly, her friendship. She was always there to tell me where the best bargains were, who had what on sale, where I could find a particular item, or when I needed to borrow a ladder, for instance.

And I was the one she called when she needed anything from apples to a corkscrew to hanging outside Christmas lights, cutting the grass or clearing snow.

Friends are always there for friends.

So for the last seven years, our friendship has remained intact, in fact it has grown and she and her husband are real friends. I talk to them every day. I visit them often. We still laugh and tell stories, share holidays and, yes, that awesome red soup.

But things will change this week. They are moving to Florida. They leave Thursday.

Forever.

I am happy for them. Seriously. Her daughter lives in Florida, and they will be living close to each other. There are other reasons that this news is good news — more on that later on, perhaps.

A new home in a new state with a new life is awesome for them. Trust me, I will take them up on their offer to visit. Even if it’s just to pick up a gallon or two of frozen red soup.

My point is, despite the more than 1,000 miles that will be between us, the friendship will continue. Daily phone calls will also continue — especially during “Wheel of Fortune” final puzzle time.

But as happy as I am that she will be near her daughter and in a new home and all that, yes, there is sadness.

I will manage to get by and I will rely on memories and those stories to get me through.

When she moved out of the house next to me, I wrote this poem:

“The house next door is empty most of the time.

There’s a “For Sale” sign out front.

Becky used to live there.

But she’s gone now.

Easter is coming.

Another vacant holiday.

Not the same since ‘68 and ‘95.

Life goes on they say.

Day by day just passes by.

Hope remains, but fades and fades.

More than the house next door.

Is empty.”

Yeah, it does sound a bit melancholy, but there are reasons for that. Becky, mentioned in the poem, was her dog, a lovable white Bichon Frise that became a member of my family as well and a constant companion of my cat, Lily.

The two years referenced — 1968 and 1995 — are the years my parents died, creating voids that could never be filled, But the memories of them never fade and the few photographs I have remind me of cherished times with them.

It would be very easy to slip into a deep sadness at what life for me will be like after Thursday — Barbara and Vince’s departure date. But that won’t happen.

Instead, I will choose to continue our friendship from a distance, knowing that we will always be friends.

I wish them well. I know what is ahead will be years of much happiness and reward.

They say they will get a dog once they are settled in their new home.

And maybe I will try to make the red soup.

Beyond the Byline: Friendship across the miles