I have seen several posts, on this site and others, exploring why it is that we feel the need to turn to social media when tragedy befalls us. Why we get the impulse to tweet about it, post about it, virtually "shout" it to the world. Of course it makes a great deal of sense, when you stop to think about the proverb that sorrows shared are divided and joys shared are multiplied. I'm paraphrasing, but you get the point.
We turn to social media for the same reason we turn to real life friends and family: because we seek comfort. And virtually "shouting" to a room which may or may not be paying attention to what you feel and what you have to say about it... well, that's got at least a 90/10 chance of someone saying something to make you feel better, right? And that's a lot better than the 0/0 chance you've got if you don't "shout" to a virtual room full of the virtual avatars of real people, right?
So it's actually quite natural that my first impulse, upon learning of a loss which has yet to bore its way fully into my consciousness and yet still manages to leave a hollowness within me, should be to tell the world about it. Because at least if I do that, there's a chance that some notice of it might bring me some comfort when at last I do fully process what's happened.
My dog, the one who was poisoned a few months ago, is gone. It feels strange to say he died when I was not there to witness it. I came home from work and he wasn't there, and never will be again. He's simply... gone, and it feels so wrong to say that my breathing doesn't even seem to be coming at the right pace anymore. The whole world seems slightly wrong now, because this one aspect of it is so INHERENTLY INCORRECT.
I am not specifically asking for consolation, of course, only announcing that something in my life has gone wrong today... and that yes, of course, I would choose to announce it here on a social media website. After all, I like the odds of an 80/20 chance of likes and kind comments on here a lot better than the 0/0 chance I would have if I simply ignored it altogether.
If you've read this whole post, thank you. That's comforting in itself, to know someone cares enough to be aware of what has happened. If you stopped for a moment and simply allowed yourself to be silent-- no more than a moment, really-- then that's even more comforting still. It's wrong that he's not here, and I'll be glad if at least a portion of this vast universe takes care to acknowledge that.
