On Dying and Social Media

A few days ago, a blogger died. Scratch that -- a mother, wife, daughter, and beloved friend died. I didn't know her. In fact, I didn't read her blog. I saw tweets about her passing, so I ended up going to her blog to read some back posts. This, sadly, is not the first time I've done this. I've been alerted about other people who have passed away who maintained blogs, so I've found myself reading people's archives after they are gone with an odd sense of curiosity mixed with profound sadness. It's so sad that this person is gone. I wonder if I read long enough, if I can find the secrets to life in his/her words.

I have yet to find the answers to life's mysteries in a blog post, but I DO find incredible life lessons. These lessons are not what you would expect -- they usually aren't deep or unique. They're simply posts about spending time with family, friends, children. Some dribbles about housekeeping or chemo treatments or wishes for the future. One person was killed in a car accident, so there was no illness ahead of time. The person was simply gone... POOF.

As a writer, I've spent endless days reading collections of "letters" or diaries left behind by the greats. I've always been drawn to these types of works because they allow me a peek behind the curtain. But often, I've found that there is nothing profound in the writing. They are simply letters that the people wrote to their friends, lovers, or children. You can say the same thing about blogging, I suppose. My own posts have no secrets about the meaning of life -- in fact, I'm often complaining about my lack of knowledge in that area. But there is something so very intoxicating about reading another person's words after they have left us behind. So yes, the personal works I've read by famous writers do move me, but the bloggers move me more.

When my mother had cancer when I was young, I often saw her writing in a diary. I knew not to read it. One of the greatest lessons my mother taught me was to respect other people's privacy. I was afraid that if I read it, I would read that she was afraid of dying, and that would have been too much for my young mind. I also gathered it was a kind of prayer journal, so that added extra weight to the privacy issue. But my mother was sick almost 25 years ago -- it was different back then. Cancer was private and hidden, scary. Contagious? People seemed to think so.

Today, people with illnesses have HUGE support networks online. As someone who has had a few major hiccups with my health, I'm grateful for this system. I've been able to share feelings, learn about medicines or doctors, and get support. I've been blessed (stops to knock on wood) to NOT be diagnosed with a terminal illness. But if I ever am? You bet your sweet a$$ I will blog about it. I think the loved ones of bloggers who have passed away are extremely lucky, and here is why:

• If my own mother had died, I would have read her journal that was most likely written in only on really bad or really good days. Bloggers write about all of that and everything in between. So you get to remember the "dumb" things about your friend, like how her sock drawer was organized or what she liked to eat for breakfast that NO ONE else liked to eat. You'll remember the little things that people think are silly or boring when someone is alive.
• If you are a child, niece/nephew, or grandchild of that person, you will have a treasure trove of information about your him/her when you are old enough to read it and fully understand it. You'll get to see a side of that person you didn't know about, such as how witty he/she was when responding to comments, random things that were randomly written about at 3AM, and how very loved your parent was by his/her community of friends.
• Because no one can "see" them when they're writing, bloggers tend to forget that their words are going out there into the universe. Personal hopes, fears, and memories come out that might not otherwise be shared in an entire lifetime. 
• The mere fact that someone has left a blog behind means you can still read it -- you can sometimes read 5-10 years back of his/her life. Sometimes there is a blog before an illness, sometimes not. In the case of an accident, you can go back and realize how special life was to the person, and that he/she was out there exploring the world or going on some kind of a personal journey or whatever -- the person lived. Not only died but lived.

Blogging has changed and morphed so many times since I first started out. I've heard all of the arguments for it and against it. I've heard: Oh, she's just a blogger. Like we aren't real people with real thoughts or opinions. I've also followed the rise, fall, and backlash against marketing, advertising, and flash-in-the-pan blogs. Despite all this, I've stayed here on Clark Street blabbing about my own journey for five years without truly knowing why.

But the other day, as I thought about the blogger who passed away, I was grateful for every single post I've ever written -- even the cringe-worthy ones. Because all of this writing shows that I have lived. And if I'm ever gone, I'm happy it will be here for anyone who needs it.