Grieving the death of a friend I never knew

I just learned that Dean Esmay lost a good friend. Her name was Dianne West, and while I'm sorry to say I never met her (because I heard so many good things about her from Dean), she lived right here in Ann Arbor, and when Dean would come to visit her we would get together. As she was not suffering from an immediately terminal condition, news of her death came as a shock to me.

I can't begin to imagine what a shock it was for Dean, whose beautiful words speak eloquently about what a wonderful friend she was to him (and obviously, what a wonderful person she was):

I will never again feel depressed and uncertain what to do, miserable and afraid for my kids or my future, and call to have her listen to me, and give me sound advice, and reassurance that I was doing the right thing-or warning me that I might not be doing the right thing, and tell me what maybe I should do instead. Or telling me what to look out for with an autistic child, what to expect, including how to expect the unexpected, and how to handle other people. How to deal with an older non-autistic teenager-she reminded me endlessly how badly he would need me in the coming years. She would endlessly remind me of what was important, and how important I was to both those kids and should never, ever, ever, ever give up in despair.

Or just have her tell me how happy she was to hear from me, and talk to me about... well, anything. We could talk about anything. Religion. History. Medicine. Politics. Raising children. Interesting food. Travel. Nature. Good books. What made the world an interesting place.

Dean is experiencing a gamut of emotions, like this honestly expressed reaction:
I feel very, very lonely. And as is the case sometimes, even though it's not right, I'm actually angry with her. Damn it Dianne, did you have to die NOW?!?
Speaking as someone who has been through the dying process far too many times, I feel obligated to point out that it is normal and healthy to feel that way, and we shouldn't be taught that it's abnormal and unhealthy. It is part of what grieving is all about, and it is very important to acknowledge and experience it.

And while Dean's post is very sad, it highlights something very important about the blogosphere, and the way people can connect. Dianne's last days were made happier because Dean got his other blog friends to help out:

Unable to leave, unable to afford to make many outgoing phone calls because of ridiculous hospital phone charges she couldn't afford. Stuck in a sub-acute care facility almost like a prison, because the hospital said she couldn't go home but didn't have room for her.

But I found out they had wifi, and members of this blog community helped me cobble together a laptop for her, and it got her back on Facebook and got her back to her email and she was able to contact her friends in the outside world and play her Facebook games, her Farmville and her fish tank and her virtual garden and such, and now I know-it made the last four months of her life less cold lonely and miserable, and I'm convinced probably extended her life. She had a purpose, she had connections, she could do research on things she needed to get done. The hospital charged insane phone rates, but she could email us, she could Facebook us, she could ask us to call and we could, or we could just send notes.

I think that's wonderful. Almost too wonderful for words, except there they are!

This stuff can now be shared. Total strangers can move us, we can help them, and when they die, we can honor them and grieve them in personal ways that were impossible in the days of three sentence funeral notices in the daily newspaper.

Right now, this whole experience is reminding me of a man I never met but came to love -- one of this blog's first and most famous commenters -- the legendary Steven Malcolm Anderson. He spent his time here and at Dean's World, and when he died suddenly, he was eulogized at both blogs. Countless other blogs noticed too. At the time Glenn Reynolds linked the Carnival of Tribute when a post about Steven was at the top) -- and keep in mind that Steven was a reclusive, quirky sort of guy who but for the love his comments engendered in the blogosphere would hardly have been known or remembered by anyone.

And now Dianne West has gone where Steven has gone.

One was a real friend even though I never met him, and the other is someone I heard about, never met, but feel as if I knew anyway. They won't be forgotten.

R.I.P. Dianne West

posted by Eric on 09.11.10 at 01:29 PM





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Comments

My friend Triticale went unexpectedly too. he was a great commenter. He stopped by here from time to time. I still miss him.

I first met him in Chicago at the CACHE Club. A computer club in the early days of the "hobby" - around '75 or '76.

It is never easy.

M. Simon   ·  September 11, 2010 04:41 PM

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