True connection

Do you use multiple social media platforms? Instagram, TikTok, YouTube? Someone asked me recently why Facebook is the only social media platform I use. My answer was pretty simple. Connection.

I’m not sure people realize how important connection is for widows and widowers. To go from always having someone at home to talk to, to having no one is quite the shock. I’m a talker by nature. Ask anyone who drops by for a visit. They can’t get a word in edgewise because I can’t seem to shut up. I talk to my dogs more than anyone else, so the ability to open my phone and see people, look at pictures, catch up on other’s lives in some small way – that is priceless.

I only use Facebook because I’m kind of technically challenged. I know what I know. I like what I like. I’ve been a Facebook user for a long time. My late husband and I originally had a joint page, but that quickly became too much to keep up with. He wanted to post race car stuff and talk barbecue shop. When we got our own profiles, I started using my page to tell the stories of our crazy rescue dogs Hope & Grace. We had a separate page for our food truck, and a page to keep everyone updated during Joe’s colon cancer journey when he was diagnosed in 2017. It was at that point Facebook became a lifeline for me.

There was a group called Colontown, filled with patients and caregivers all collaborating to help each other through this horrid disease. I joined and found instant connection with a group of ladies who were walking the same path as me. Nine years and many lost husbands later, we are all still connected, following each other’s journeys. Some into widowhood, others into survivorship. I have been hanging on to that lifeline ever since.

I’d be remiss not to mention my prayer warriors online. They have been so amazing over the years. They banded together to pray for work family, friends, and our own family. Their voices reached the heavens when Joe’s dad had his aneurysm, when both my parents went on hospice, and when my husband was in ICU for twelve days after his cardiac arrest. One evening we had well over 300 people online stopping at exactly 10:03pm to pray for my Joe. I felt every single one of them. After Joe passed away, we livestreamed his service right there on Facebook for those who couldn’t be here in person.

I don’t read the political stuff. I don’t debate the religious stuff. Other people’s opinions are just that. Not my business. I use Facebook to keep up with everyone in my wider circle. Out of state family, old high school friends, and everyone in between. I love reading about new homes, exciting vacations, kid’s graduations, new grandbabies, marriages, pets, and even what people are cooking for dinner. I love listening to so many of my very talented friends when they post songs, artwork, poetry or their gardening expertise.

For me, reading Facebook is like receiving a letter from an old friend. But rather than having to walk to the mailbox, I just open my phone and catch up. I post music I love, pictures of my family, my crazy dogs, and the wackiness that is my life some days. During the month of March, I post relentlessly about colon cancer awareness. And occasionally I drop Joe a message on his memorialized page to tell him how much I love and miss him.

Some people think it’s silly to put random things about your life out there for all to see. Some people probably think my messages to Joe are sad and depressing. Of course, if you really know me, you know I don’t give a shit what other people think. Speaking my truth has not only helped me heal but hopefully helps others along the way.

What a privilege it is for me to put my thoughts into the universe; and an even greater privilege to read about my friends and their families, and how they are all living this beautiful life. I feel like I’m right there with them. I’m praying for them when they need it, I’m laughing when their kids or pets do something silly, I’m crying when life knocks them down, and celebrating all their wins.

Some may say that’s not true connection, but I beg to differ.