By Mark Schaefer
I was saddened to learn that a beloved person in my social media community, Del Williams, died of cancer this week. Del was one of my first online connections and a reliable pundit in my blog comment section, Facebook debates, and Twitter stream.
I loved to see Del show up in a conversation because she called out the guru BS and was not afraid of anything or anybody.
I think I was one of her favorites. Earlier this year she told me I was an honorary black person!
But Del was a typical social media friend. I knew her only on a superficial level.
I never met her or even called her.
I don’t know much of her “back story” beyond her LinkedIn profile.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get to know her more deeply. It was just that amid the social media cacophony, there was never a reason to collaborate specifically with her. And so we were constantly “in orbit” but never landed together in a truly personal way.
I learned of Del’s death through this Facebook post:
Del’s suffering is over. She passed peacefully this afternoon.
She was not alone when she died, thanks to the huge-hearted volunteers of No One Dies Alone. If you’d like to do something in Del’s memory, see if No One Dies Alone offers its services at a medical center or hospice near you, and support them as you’re able.
It appears that it was posted by this organization — in fact it is sort of an advertisement for the agency, isn’t it?
This is how they describe their mission:
No One Dies Alone provides bedside volunteers who offer a reassuring presence to dying patients who would otherwise be alone. No One Dies Alone provides a dignified death to individuals who have no family or close friends to sit with them at the end of life.
I was not aware of this group but it sounds like a worthy cause.
But that social media epitaph sent a chill down my spine.
Del had 550 Facebook friends, more than 500 LinkedIn connections, and 13,000 Twitter followers. Even a famous one:
And she died alone?
Her Facebook epitaph seems to indicate no one she knew was around for her in the final hours.
Del was proud and private. I don’t know what decisions she made at the end of her life. Maybe this is exactly what she wanted.
But my hunch is … no. She probably did not choose to die alone in that cold hospital room while the social media connections she loved bubbled on without her.
I felt sad. So much community and so alone at the end.
All those connections. Connections without accountability. I suppose that is the definition of social media community?
Go hug somebody in real life today.
Love you Del. Why did I never tell you that in person?
