It’s very strange how you can connect with someone you’ve never met, never heard their voice, are not really sure what they look like, and yet can miss them when they no longer keep in touch, and feel so sad when you find out, eventually, that they have died.
I can’t exactly remember when Michael (I’m calling him that) first commented on something I’d written and so can’t remember what he “said”. However, I always try to respond to anyone who jots a few words or more in response to one of my posts, and I’m sure I replied to him pretty early on. Before long he was commenting regularly on things I’d written – he’d been born and spent his early years in the UK in a place I knew well, so we would “chat” about it – he was interested in the old place even though he’d left as a child. In fact he had connected to me through my friend Andrew Simpson’s blog, about Chorlton-cum-Hardy in the Greater Manchester area.
https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/
Our conversations generated from one of my posts, were sometimes quite long, and he began to share stories from his interesting life. He had travelled a lot, had had different occupations, different relationships, and now in his older years was very happy with his life – especially since his wife was such a splendid cook! He mentioned the town where he now lived, and when I was on a trip to Portsmouth and found a war memorial to a Canadian a support ship on which his father had served, named after his town, I took several photos for him.
https://loiselsden.com/2016/03/15/let-there-be-a-way-through-the-water/
Michael often used to joke and tease – he was particularly amused about my love of lichen, and was convinced that because I liked taking pictures of big shiny motorbikes I was a secret ‘biker-chick’! He didn’t enjoy the more serious posts I shared – not because he disagreed or disproved, but I think maybe he was struggling with his health and other issues (I’m only guessing because he never said) he wanted to read about positive and light-hearted things.
When I hadn’t heard from him for a few days, I began to watch the comments more closely, and when there was nothing from him, I checked back to see when he had last written anything. Maybe he was busy with his family and friends, maybe he was away for a few days, maybe he was poorly, maybe he had tech issues, or maybe he was just fed up with being on-line, nothing to do with me. Eventually, after several months, dithering, wondering, and yes, worrying, about him, I did a little research about his home town.
Sadly, but by now not unexpectedly, I found some very, very sad news. I would never hear from him again, chuckle over his funny comments, ponder on his wise ones, research more about his interesting ones. I wondered about writing to his family, but thought it sounded too weird or might be misunderstood, or might be distressing. I didn’t know anything about his family – I only learned details from his obituary. In the end I didn’t do anything for quite a while, until somehow or another I came across a relative on social media. This caused me to dither more – to contact, or not to contact. After more months, I wrote, then rewrote, then wrote again – a message to send privately through social media.
I sent my sincere condolences, and was not surprised when, of course, I heard nothing from them. This was a year or more ago,, and I still think of Michael, and still think of the funny and interesting and friendly comments he used to make.
Lois Elsden 