The day starts out joyful. The sun is shining, friends and family are set to gather for an outing. Laughter and stories are being exchanged, and tasty food is consumed. Pictures are taken of people smiling and acting silly, and posted on Facebook to share so those who weren't able to make it can add their goofy comments. One of the joys of the online world: we can so quickly include our friends and families in our activities even though they may live miles, and even continents, away. When we see them next it doesn't feel like it may have been as long as it has been since we've been able to keep up with their lives. We've viewed pictures of nieces and nephews as they've grown from infancy, kids of friends celebrated as stars on their middle school softball teams. We've seen announcements of upcoming weddings or been reminded of a forgotten birthday. When I was growing up we depended on letters and rare phone calls to find out what was happening, and often what we learned was out of date and limited.
But now, in an online instant, the day can change from joy to sorrow. Opening Facebook after posting a photo to see if anyone has commented and instead finding a post from a friend that a mutual friend has died. Within minutes the word spreads to all who knew him and the grief is shared. Staying connected in the online world means we know more people and stay in more frequent contact with them. We get glimpses into their lives we would otherwise miss, and for me, it means I am more likely to go out of my way to visit them when I am anywhere near them. Someone who would have been a passing hello at a conference or event I might attend has become a friend, linked through the internet.
At the church I attended while my children were growing up they had a ritual called the Sharing of Joys and Sorrows. Anyone wishing to speak went to the front of the sanctuary where there were two vases filled with flowers. You simply moved a flower from one vase to the other and shared your news. The belief behind the ritual was that a joy shared was amplified and a sorrow shared eased the burden. I found both to be true whenever I felt moved to speak or listened to the heartbreaks and joys of others. Weddings, baptisms, birthdays and funerals provide the same opportunity to tell our stories and hear the impact others have had on us. But distance means we can't always attend those events.
The immediacy of seeing the shared pain of those who knew and were now grieving the loss of our friend both intensified my own pain and somehow lessened it. Reading their reactions made it real in a way I wish I could still deny. Knowing I was not alone, knowing the community he touched was equally stunned by his sudden passing brought a tiny sense of comfort that those in my day to day environment couldn't fully understand. They could offer sympathy to me, but the connection via the online community who actually knew him, and knew the impact of this on the lives of those closest to him, meant so much more. Being able to reach across the world and tell stories perhaps has become part of the ritual of sharing joys and sorrows. It may be the best we can do when we can't be there in person.
