We don’t know each other.
We’ve never met nor spoken on the phone. I couldn’t even tell you what she looks like, but I follow her blog and learn about the parts of her life that she chooses to share. Intelligent, thoughtful, and caring are just a few of the words that I would use to describe her. Many comments to her blog go unanswered, which is usually a no-no for me, but for her, I make an exception.
She’s suffered heartaches.
Real ones. Somehow she keeps moving forward.
I can usually find the bright side in anything. It’s an aggravating trait to some, because many people are quick to point to the negatives in life as examples of how things are; of how they will always be. Those who have that mindset harp on “what’s wrong” instead of celebrating “what’s right.” They curse what is lost and neglect what they still possess. Venting comes as easily to them as taking in a breath.
Alicia is not one of those people.
I have problems. We all do. The world has problems. Lot’s of them: War, famine, economic tumult, and a seemingly endless string of natural disasters. We become numb. The size and scope of the world’s problems are just too much to take, so we insulate ourselves from the horror and begin to forget how to feel.
There’s a bond that is formed between people who follow each other’s blogs. We read most every post and grow to feel that we know each other better than we know some of the people with whom we share air. I have a handful of relationships like this. These connections are often difficult to explain to others. People tend to reveal more of themselves on their blogs than they do in their day-to-day lives with acquaintances.
I know that I do.
Last night, Alicia wrote about the anniversary of her widowhood. Seven years is a long time and minds have a tendency to bend toward forgetfulness, but I suspect that she has a clear memory of every time that she has begun to call his name, turned to look for him, or woken up expecting to see him lying there beside her.
I can’t imagine the hurt that follows in the next moment when reality returns.
This morning, she posted a vignette from last night. This one brief personal story of her and her boys struck me very deeply.
She’s been on my mind all day.
The clumsy comment that I left on her post did not adequately express how I feel about her. I hope that I’ve done a better job here.
I think that we’ve become too accustomed to our world of harsh realities. We may feel for each other, but I don’t think that we empathize with one another – at least not often enough. As I read her words this morning, her pain was in the room with me, and through that pain I felt connected to her in a very real way.
Read her story.
It will make you sad, but it will also make you feel.
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Ray } – 
