The internet is a wonderful thing. It allows me to do a job I love, from my home. It lets me share the things I love with others who also love them, and gives me resources of information and materials that extend far beyond this small town I call home. And on days like today, it leaves me struggling to explain it to people who aren’t as active in that world as I am how the internet, and the people that I’ve met on it, can touch my very soul.
I am a very active member of the online scrapbook community, visiting regularly on several forums with a large group of women. Some of us are part of the scrapbook world professionally, some are passionate hobbyists. All of these women share a large part of themselves through their creative endeavors and their socializing with each other.
I’ve met some very special women in these forums that I am proud to call my friends. They have cheered my victories and lifted me up when I am down. I’ve anxiously awaited the arrival of their new babies (and excitedly bought gifts!), and sent condolences on their losses. Some of these women I’ve been fortunate to meet in person at various events, but some remain on the other end of the internet, modern penpals via email and message board.
Last night I received the horrible news of the unexpected death of my friend Alleen. She died suddenly at age 48 of a brain bleed, leaving behind a husband and two school-aged children. Despite the fact that I never met Alleen in person, she had been a presence in my life for a long time and the news of her loss was hard to fathom. Both of us were writers and both of us suffered the loss of baby sons. For those reasons and many more, I always felt she was a sister soul of mine. A day later, it still doesn’t seem possible that the warm woman with the wicked sense of humor who cherished her family (and her cats) more than anything was just taken in an instant. And even more than seeming unreal, it doesn’t seem fair either.
Rest in Peace Alleen. I hope you are with your angel Duncan, cradling him for all eternity. I for one am better for having known – although never having met – you, and will never forget you.