Someone whom I knew from my online activities died recently. To say that I was close to this person is a bit of a stretch. They were a very involved, even popular, figure in a community in which I am but one of many participants. Still, I was struck by their death, not least of all because I was not aware that they were ill in the first place, but also because I’m not entirely sure what to do now.
The (at this point still weak, and open to interpretation) scientific consensus is that while the formation and definition of bonds in online communities may vary from real life, and that, in certain edge cases, this may lead to statistical anomalies, online communities are, for the most part, reflective of normal human social behavior, and therefore social interaction in an online setting is not substantially materially different from real life communities[1][2]. Moreover, emotions garnered through online social experiences are just as real, at least to the recipient, as real life interaction. The reaction to this latter conclusion has been both mixed, and charged [4][5], which, fair enough, given the subject matter.
I have been reliably informed by a variety of sources both professional and amateur that I do not handle negative emotions well in general, grief in particular. With a couple of exceptions, I have never felt that the times when I felt grief over something, that I was justified in it enough to come forward publicly. I had more important duties which I could not reasonably justify taking my attention away from. Conversely, on the one or two occasions when I felt like I might be justified in grieving publicly, I did not experience the expected confrontation.
When I have experienced grief, it has seldom been a single tidal wave of emotions, causing catastrophic, but at its core, momentary, devastation to all in its path. Rather, it has been a slow, gentle rain, wavering slightly in its intensity, but remarkable above all for its persistence rather than its raw power. Though not as terrifying or awesome as the sudden flood, it inevitably brings the same destructive ends, wiping away the protective topsoil, exposing what lies beneath, and weakening the foundation of everything that has been built on top of it, eventually to its breaking point.
In this metaphor, the difference between the death of a person whom I am extremely close to, and the death of someone whom I know only peripherally is only a matter of duration and intensity. The rains still come. The damage is still done. And so, when someone with whom I am only tangentially connected, but connected nonetheless, I feel a degree of grief; a degree that some might even call disproportionate, but nevertheless present. The distress is genuine, regardless of logical or social justification.
It is always challenging to justify emotional responses. This is especially true when, as seems to be the case with grief in our culture, the emotional response demands a response of its own. In telling others that we feel grief, we seem to be, at least in a way, soliciting sympathy. And as with asking for support or accommodations on any matter, declaring grief too frequently, or on too shoddy a pretext, can invite backlash. Excessive mourning in public or on Facebook, or, indeed, on a blog post, can seem, at best, trite, and at worst, like sociopathic posturing to affirm one’s social status.
So, what is a particularly sensitive online acquaintance to do? What am I to do now?
On such occasions I am reminded of the words of the poet John Donne in his Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, and severall steps in my Sickness, specifically, the following except from Meditation 17, which is frequently quoted out of its full context. I do not think there is much that I could add to it, so I will simply end with the relevant sections here.
“Perchance, he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God’s hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness.
[…]
The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that this occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.“
Works Consulted
Zhao, Jichang, et al. “Being rational or aggressive? A revisit to Dunbar׳s number in online social networks.” Neurocomputing 142 (2014): 343-53. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://arxiv.org/pdf/1011.1547.pdf>.
Golder, Scott A., et al. “Rhythms of Social Interaction: Messaging Within a Massive Online Network.” Communities and Technologies 2007 (2007): 41-66. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://arxiv.org/pdf/cs/0611137.pdf>.
Wilmot, Claire. “The Space Between Mourning and Grief.” The Atlantic. Atlantic Media Company, 08 June 2016. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/06/internet-grief/485864/>.
Garber, Megan. “Enter the Grief Police.” The Atlantic. Atlantic Media Company, 20 Jan. 2016. Web. 27 May 2017. <https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/01/enter-the-grief-police/424746/>.
