How do you write with feeling about someone you have never met who has died?
The internet is a curious thing. For decades hippies have wittered on about the global village, about global consciousness.
It all seemed like pie in the sky. An example of yoghurt weaving as it is known around these parts. How can people feel the same sense of connection with people hundreds if not thousands of miles away that they feel with their closest neighbours? It’s just not possible. It would be wonderful if it was but it just isn’t.
And then the internet happened. And social networking. And blogging. And for all the bad things they bring – yes, they can be as shallow, small minded and abusive as, well, people basically – they have also undeniably connected people at an emotional level.
We’ve seen it on the big scale. Revolution in Egypt. The outpouring of support for the disaster in Japan. People talking, responding, connecting. Caring. Suddenly we are all close neighbours.
It happens on the small scale too and the effects are just as big.
This morning I learnt of the death of a blogger whose writing I loved, dearly. I’d never met her. Never spoke to her. Never even Tweeted, Poked or Skyped. It was all in the blog.
Always archly funny, witty, pithy, Kaz’s words were always elegant, clever and incisive. A fiercely poised and intelligent lady. It was an honour when Kaz visited my blog and left a comment; when she took the time to express a feeling of connection.
She did so less as her illness took hold. She posted less on her own blog. Posted less words. Her energy was waning. Never her will. She knew what was coming. There were no sentimental “what if” posts. No wistful words published for posterity. The tagline of her blog still reads, “Even Idler”. I have no doubt that wherever she is now, she’d be finding that absolutely hilarious.
For those of you that frequented Kaz’s blog, I think today we will all be connected in our sadness, connected in our regret that the light of a real diamond has gone out. For those of you that didn’t, well, her blog is still there. A wonderful testament to an amazingly bright mind.
How do you write with feeling about someone you have never met?
The internet, this global consciousness, is a curious thing...
24 comments:
I'm shocked, Steve, and saddened. Like you, I've read Kaz's blog over the years and, well, it feels like losing a friend, whatever.
It is a truly wondrous thing, the web effect of the web. This is a beautiful tribute to a blogger I have not previously come across. will make sure I check out her blog now.
It certainly is a curious thing. Having "met" lots of people online, I do feel as though I know them personally even when they live overseas. So many I would never meet, some I would never want to meet, but many I would be honoured to meet.
A wonderfully written tribute.
CJ xx
"How do you write with feeling about someone you have never met?"
you just did...beautifully.
I hadn't come across Kaz's blog before which is such a shame.
I think we sense a bond with someone whether we have met them or not: the connection is the thing. I feel just as much worry, anguish and sadness (and joy, relief and affection) for online chums as I do for people I have met in the flesh.
It is curious and you have written beautifully about someone you have never met. I am about to visit her blog, strange as that is in itself.
My first blogger bereavement occurred in May of last year, when 'Mutley' (aka Rob Chambers) passed away in his sleep. I didn't know Kaz well, but I knew she was a card, and her regular readers will surely miss her.
I've just read several of Kaz's posts - for the first time - and they are really refreshing and down-to-earth. I wish I had known about her before. Thanks.
I’m truly sorry for the loss of your admired, revered and talented Blogger friend Steve. A sad and poignant post for which you have penned a warm, eloquent and fitting obituary, worthy of her writing calibre and finer human qualities. She will be moved by your words, I am sure.
I will visit her Blog. Thank you.
Well I think you did beautifully. I just took a look at Kaz's blog and she was clearly a pretty amazing woman - I'd have gone to pieces.
I think some blog relationships are just a new form of friendship in this new cyber age...
I'd not come across her blog before, but you pay her such a wonderful tribute.
It's interesting how much we become entwined with the people whose blogs we read and how much of a profound effect they have on us.
I had not come across her blog but I think your tribute was lovely. The world has been shrinking for many years and the internet has made it even easier for us to get to know people we may never meet.
Steve your post said it all........
A good thing I think that a blog can live on after the blogger is gone. If one hasn't been published or had music recorded or left paintings or galleries full of photos, what better way to say... I was here ?
Condolences Steve. I'm off to visit Kaz's place.
That is really sad, you have posted a lovely tribute Steve. I used to visit her blog as well.
What everybody else said...that's all.
RIP Kaz.
Steve - you are a Knight of Camelot for sure ;)
That is just so sad.
Oh I am so sorry to read of this Steve - I'd seen her pithy comments here and there and did read her blog and never knew she was so ill.
You wrote such a good tribute to her though and summarised just how wonderful is the connection between all of us, despite never having met.
Lovely tribute Steve.
Am sure she is smiling, wherever that may now be.
LCM x
Steve, what a lovely tribute. I considered writing one to her on mine but feared I couldn't possibly do her justice.
Yes, receiving a comment from Kaz in return was like receiving a visit from Royalty. And she was. Blog Royalty!
Never a word wasted. And she had the ideal arrangement with Kev the boyfriend (twin flats across the lobby from one another and regular holidays together).
I too spent the day of 21st in some degree of shock, even though I knew the prognosis for ovarian cancer was pretty lousy. Thank goodness she had the evidently wonderful Kev to support her through such an appalling ordeal. I was sad she didn't feel up to blogging though, and prefer to think that maybe she'd just run out of inspiration owing to her illness.
She was far more impressive than her alter-ego - Patsy from Ab Fab anyway. Kaz was someone you'd actually really want to have a drink with.
I'm not sure how, but I think you did it extremely well.
We know that 'knowing' someone via their blog is the same as physically knowing them - and yet I can empathise with the sense of loss.
Didn't know Kaz but I shall look at her blog now,
I've never read Kaz's blog but I've just had a look now and realized what I missed over the years. I hope Kaz has found her peace now and I'm glad that she will remembered by people like you. Ciao.A.
What a beautiful tribute
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