My Skype call tonight with the newly widowed woman with an elegant voice was presumably about blogging: which platforms rock (Tumblr) and which ones suck (all the other ones).
But the conversation wasn’t much about blogging.
It was about her larger-than-life husband and their five trips to Rome. About how they sold everything two years ago to move to Panama for the hell of it. How he’d survived a major surgery only to die of complications afterward. And about how wretchedly long two months feels when you’re still measuring time in days.
Her voice contained none of the selfish edge or panic that mine had at six weeks into the widow’s walk. In its place was a wisdom and peace that I’m not sure mine will ever contain.
Yet in the space between my goofiness and her grace was the immediate kinship of shared loss. A finish-the-other-person’s-thought or sob-quietly-in-unison kind of kinship. A profoundly human connection made possible by Google search, social media and Skype.
boquetebella 
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