Aren't We All in This Together?

Or: Why I Love Facebook

I occasionally field questions from real-world friends who wonder why I have a profile on Facebook, what I get from it. I have to admit that on the mornings when I wake up with only a cat in my bed, the first thing I do is reach for my iPhone.

First I flick through my e-mail, quickly deleting notes I have no interest in, sending spam to the appropriate folder. I glance at the remaining notes, mentally noting the ones I want to read later on a big screen, and scanning the ones I deem important enough for immediate attention.

Then I turn to Facebook. I flick down through screen after screen of status updates from friends, neighbors, and companies I like. I marvel that so many people have so much to say. I read the comments people have written to my posts of the night before, and note who has "liked" something I've said. I post "likes" where a friend has accomplished something difficult. I write an encouraging comment where someone has faced a difficult challenge. I laugh and I sigh and I shake my head. I make a mental note to find more good information to post to several business sites for which I am responsible.

And I feel connected.

Yesterday I posted that I was thinking of John on the anniversary of his death. I don't say much about him any more, out of consideration for my new beau's feelings and the fact that my life is moving on from "me" to "us". But the anniversary of John's birth and our marriage and his death are big days to me. He was huge in my life, and I will forever be grateful for how my life changed as a result of knowing him.

And then several old friends who knew him posted comments to my post. That meant the world to me.

We all plod along in our lives, one foot in front of the other, absorbed in our activities and our thoughts. We think about our friends and the people we come into daily contact with, but we don't think quite so much about whether anyone else is thinking of us. For me, Facebook helps me see that many kind and gentle people are plodding along a similar road to mine.

In the old days, years one through—oh—six of my post-John life, I would think of him. But no one else ever noted the date. None of his family members ever called or wrote me to share a memory or say they missed his smiling face and active sense of humor. I felt totally and completely alone. I felt I was the only one who remembered this bon vivant with whom I shared ten years on this earth.

Nowadays, I might post a memory of him on Facebook, and without fail someone will comment. His pre-me wife and I are friends and she is quick to share a thought or feeling; his sisters-in-law tell me when they remember something funny or meaningful that he did. Our friends with whom we sang in The Washington Chorus are extremely generous in sharing their memories with me.

Yes, life goes on, but our memories keep us grounded in the lives that brought us to where we are today.

People say, "I'm not going on Facebook. I don't want anyone knowing my business." For me, having people who know my "business" gives me the courage and strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

To quote the "Golden Girls" theme song, "Thank you for being a friend."