This weekend made me realize just how much of a real community I am now a part of. I know it seems silly that I consider my fellow blogging companions my 'friends', but they truly are, in every sense of the word.
When I first started my blog, it was Chez who contacted me with an idea on how else I could honor your memory; when I was hurt by a comment someone annonymously left me here, I immediately deleted it and e-mailed Nancy for advice; and when I learned that Daria, a blogger I have followed since the summer, passed away from breast cancer on Saturday, Carly's inbox was instantly flooded with an overly-emotional message from yours truly. These people, among others, have quickly woven their way into a huge part of my every day life, and I am so thankful for each moment they are a part of it.
Over the past few days, I have seen numerous posts acknowledging the heartache and sadness that has overtaken many of my blog friends' hearts after discovering that Daria had died. I guess I never really thought about the fact that we not only read each other's blogs, but follow the same blogs as well, making us even more interconnected.
While I commented on Daria's blog half a dozen times or more, she never wrote on (or maybe never even read) mine. It always confused me. Did she not find my life's story interesting? Did she think I was too young to befriend? No matter the reason, I became addicted to her journey with cancer and hung on to every word each week.
It wasn't until Daria's husband posted that she would no longer be able to write on her blog herself that I finally had an epiphany-- Daria may not have wanted to know my story. And I can't say I blame her. Maybe she didn't want to read about the struggles of a child trying to carry on without her mother or the recollections of the toll that death took on a family. My blog is really the epitome of every cancer patient's worst nightmare: that there's a chance they might not beat it; that there's a chance their loved ones will be left to pick up the pieces of their shattered hearts. I am the constant reminder to mothers with cancer of the heartache and emptiness their children will feel if they are forced to say goodbye. Sometimes I don't even want to know me, so why would they?
This realization made my head spin. How can any of my closest blog friends even read some of the things I say? I will never fully understand why or how they find the strength to be a friend to me. Even on my weakest days, that's when they send the most heartfelt messages. They put aside their fears and worries for me, a person who just a few months ago was a complete stranger.
These women are nothing short of a gift, and something tells me I know exactly who sent them. Thank you, Mom.
Take good care of Daria.
I love you,