I spent most of last night tossing and turning; I thought about getting up and playing online for a little bit, or opening up the current manuscript and working on that, but I just didn’t feel like it. I felt like lying there in bed, being annoyed that I couldn’t fall asleep.
A year ago, I was sleepless on the same night, but that was because I had the TV on and was pretty much glued to coverage of the tsunami in Japan. I stayed at my desk with the TV on and I hung on Facebook, then crawled into bed with the TV on and I went back to Facebook using my iPad.
I wasn’t alone in that; a lot of people were using Facebook to connect, and Kurtis Ming from Sacramento’s CBS channel 13 used FB to keep the sleepless updated from the newsroom. I spent a lot of time talking to one person in particular, Kay Lee Kelly; we watched different networks on TV and talked about what we were seeing, we talked about my (I now know irrational) fear that when the waves hit the west coast of the U.S. that my son would be close enough to the water to get hit.
Having someone to talk to through the night helped.
I finally went to bed at around 6:30 on March 11th, 2011; I don’t know what Kay did, if she stayed up or went to sleep, if she had somewhere she needed to be that day or not. I only know that someone who knew me through Max’s blog and had friended me on Facebook stayed up all night and kept me company, sharing my horror at what was happening to the people in Japan.
Five days later, she was gone.
Her son posted that she died from heart failure on March 16th. I never got to meet her in person and I knew little about her personal life, but I do know that she was sweet and funny, compassionate and caring, and that I miss talking to her on Facebook. I miss the way her phone-generated updates and replies looked like Haiku, one short line after another. I think it says something about a person, when even though I didn’t know her well, I still miss her.
I wouldn’t wish a disaster like last year’s tsunami on anyone, but I am grateful, in a way, that I stayed up all night when it hit, and spent a few hours posting back and forth with her. It's not often that you can pinpoint the last conversation you ever had with someone, but as long as Facebook exists, it will be there, on both our Timelines, and in private messages.
And that's some kind of cool.
A year ago, I was sleepless on the same night, but that was because I had the TV on and was pretty much glued to coverage of the tsunami in Japan. I stayed at my desk with the TV on and I hung on Facebook, then crawled into bed with the TV on and I went back to Facebook using my iPad.
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| Kay Lee Kelly's FB profile picture |
Having someone to talk to through the night helped.
I finally went to bed at around 6:30 on March 11th, 2011; I don’t know what Kay did, if she stayed up or went to sleep, if she had somewhere she needed to be that day or not. I only know that someone who knew me through Max’s blog and had friended me on Facebook stayed up all night and kept me company, sharing my horror at what was happening to the people in Japan.
Five days later, she was gone.
Her son posted that she died from heart failure on March 16th. I never got to meet her in person and I knew little about her personal life, but I do know that she was sweet and funny, compassionate and caring, and that I miss talking to her on Facebook. I miss the way her phone-generated updates and replies looked like Haiku, one short line after another. I think it says something about a person, when even though I didn’t know her well, I still miss her.
I wouldn’t wish a disaster like last year’s tsunami on anyone, but I am grateful, in a way, that I stayed up all night when it hit, and spent a few hours posting back and forth with her. It's not often that you can pinpoint the last conversation you ever had with someone, but as long as Facebook exists, it will be there, on both our Timelines, and in private messages.
And that's some kind of cool.
7 comments:
I too spent that night on the internet while having CNN Asia on the TV (we since have turned off the sat dish to save money and my sanity). I had a similar online buddy like you did. I never met Linda but we had just reconnected after a 10 year absence after a long illness of mine. Before that, we had "met" thru a comic book fan newsletter and exchanged letters (long before internet and emails). She married an editor from DC comics and I became a grandmother twice. We both were in the same political crowds and played Farmville intensely. While listening to old time jazz in the backgrounds. She invited me to Connecticut so I could finally get my wish of a run in Central Park while saving money and dropping on the sofa in her home. She had been outside John Lennon's apartment the night he died and we often talked about it, and my intense wish to see NY and settle the weird dreams I have about living there, even tho I have never even been there.I never got the chance to tell her another grand baby was on the way. Late May almost two years ago, we each planted some crop, said good night and see you tomorrow. Tomorrow came around and Linda wasn't there anymore. Overnight at 60, her heart died. I left out farms as they were,never going back to them and it's strange to see her name and photo pop up with horoscopes and game invites. I still expect to log on and see a message from her-saying HA HA! Another friend died in October after a long illness. He was like an adopted brother...maybe the brother I should have had instead of the ones I ended up with. When I die, do I tell someone in the family to delete my account or leave it? I haven't decided but sometimes it can be traumatic to have those faces pop up since I still haven't gotten over the loss.
I know that I still go to the FB pages of friends who have died..might seen funny, but I like to leave the occasional message. I'd like my FB profile to remain when I'm gone, and then hope someone misses me just enough that it makes them feel better to leave a note now and then.
That was a horrible day ans night that we will all remember. I am glad you had a friend to keep you company through the night. i am so sorry that you lost her so soon after!
A story of mine to share: Last August I got to thinking I hadn't talked to Cathy Davis for nearly a year and couldn't get it out of my mind that I should give her a call. I let a week or more pass thinking of it now & then and finally followed up on it. We talked a long time, catching up on our lives. I confided that I had considered taking my life during a deep dark depression earlier in the year. She told me if I ever felt like that again I should call her day or night to talk because it is just one moment in time and it will pass. 9 days later she was gone. I can still hear her sweet southern voice saying "just one moment in time" This kind, caring woman offered to be my lifeline, but it was her life that was taken.
-Lynne
Cathy was a sweet, sweet person and I wish I had known her better. She IM's me on FB a lot (until I had to turn the chat function off) but it was always as Beau trying to talk to Max.
I am truly glad you got to know her, Lynne. Her faith was strong enough that if you ever need that lifeline she extended, just start talking. She'll hear you.
That was a horrible night. Maybe the memory of it was what kept you awake last night. I am so sorry that you lost your friend.
Thanks Thumper.
You are correct.
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