We've been friends over a lifetime with an artist from the Indiana Dunes. His son has been posting updates on his recent illness and his death this morning. It's been years since we spent time together, or even wrote. And yet we still consider him a friend. We mourn his passing and celebrate his life. We remember the long walks on the National Lakeshore, sitting in his living room playing music and laughing, watching him run his train set in the room dedicated to that narrow gauge Rocky Mountain railroad. His smile is etched in our memories: it always made you imagine you were part of something magical.
When I scroll over my list of friends on Facebook I see friends with whom we no longer have physical contact, friends we only know through Facebook, friends whose lives have diverged so far from ours as to have only marginal connections, and old friends who have passed in death, but whose names still appear. There is a feature on Facebook where you can actually turn a page into a memorial page, acknowledging that the person behind that profile is no longer living on this earth. Unless a profile is made into a memorial page, Facebook doesn't know that the person has passed. We do. The smile that their mention with an anniversary of some event brings to us is accompanied by a wistful feeling of how much we miss their immediate presence.
"But I always thought I'd see you sometime again ...." rings its truth to our daily lives. When you reach the age that most of the people you knew in your youth are no longer physically present on earth you may also realize that each encounter with a friend may be your last encounter with that friend. It's always true, even when you are young and immortal. The realization of that truth is what makes it so hard to said goodbye to children and grandchildren when visits are few and far between. A Facebook presence eases the pain of saying goodbye, but it can also serve as an excuse for abbreviating physical presence, and it is no substitute for one to one sharing of feeling - whether through a hug, laughter, tears, or a held hand.
The lesson in this trying time of COVID 19, where physical closeness is restricted, is that we need to treasure and savor those moments we are given, and not to fear letting the people around us who give us joy to know how much we appreciate that gift - and that it is a gift. And later, on facebook, or email, or a real letter, remind them of how much we value their friendship, their help, or merely their presence.
It has often been said that the present is a gift. I am grateful for the memories of shared times, but I suspect that I am the only one who knows how much those times meant to me. I resolve to be better about saying "You make a difference for me. You make the world a better place." Because you do. Especially when you smile.
Happy Birthday, Sara Katharine Hoyt. RIP Dale Fleming.
