I checked in on an old blogging buddy who wrote in his last post of April 7th that his lung cancer and pulmonary fibrosis were definitely getting the better of him and that his docs had given him less than a month to live. He wistfully wrote that he thought he'd be around for his grandson's birthday and Memorial Day. But there were no updates or comments from him. He did say it would be his last post, but still, NOTHING. Roger and I were on his email list, the one he sent to his family and (real, not virtual) friends. The last email was sent on April 27th. Then, nothing.
On Sunday, I remembered his full name. He had
once, years and years ago, in an act of kindness and compassionate
generosity, made a CD of big band music for my mom. He loved that era of
music and so did she. I remembered the emails we had sent, and I
remembered his name, so I googled it. I found his obituary. He died on
May 17. I went back to his last blog post and typed in a comment. I
wanted to let his other blogging friends know that he was gone. I put in
a link to his obituary. I ended the comment with, "Rest in peace,
Ah but poor Alan has comment moderation on, and
that comment will sit somewhere in internet dark space forever and never
see the light of day.
I know another blogger who
has not updated her blog in several months. She was struggling with a
difficult illness. Her blog also has comment moderation.
it made me think about what we should do at the end of our lives, in
the event that we know our demise is imminent. Tell a trusted someone
your passwords. Leave word about how to handle these beautiful online
journals. Don't just let them languish without closure.
my heart of hearts, I think we have created a community here in the
blogosphere. I want us all to say our heartfelt good-byes in zeroes and
ones that will last forever.
So, rest in peace, Alan.