A dear friend

This is a long post, but one of the most important I've written, I think. One that marks something big in my life. If you do have time to sit and read it, thank you..........


I first got online in 2000.
Back then there were no blogs and few 'forums' as we know them now. In fact I didn't have much to do with the internet at all in those days. I stuck to email, and what we did have back then was newsgroups. These were like a message board, but not on a website. You joined the newsgroup and any messages you emailed to it went to everyone else in the group. These came out as a page of postings. It sounds a little archaic now, come to think of it!

Well I joined a newsgroup set up for people with depression. Most of the groups started with the prefix 'alt.' but for some reason this one started with 'alc.' which I did't even notice for a while, but I think it was a joke from someone somewhere, meaning we were a bit tipsy :) because of the strange name- 'alc.suicide' not many people found or joined it. We had about a dozen members from over the world, and we all seemed to share the same sense of humour. I would log on in the evening and spend hours in stitches sometimes.

Some members were very strong, others weren't. Some 'lurked', which was the term for someone who read but rarely posted.

We all had a history of depression in common. When one of us crashlanded the rest of us rallied round and supported them. There is much to be said for the intimacy of a smaller cyberspace!

In time lots of us moved on. I don't know what happened to the newsgroup. It continues for a while via a website, but I don't know how long it survived.

A few weeks ago I went searching for it. After hours, I found some of it saved in old cached pages. I was able to read 6 months of conversational threads from 2000. It took time to recognise some of the names but soon the in-jokes were back. It was very odd to read things that I had posted. It no longer sounded like my voice. I must have changed a lot. It was a very, very eerie experience to come across these old threads still out there, like disembodied ghost voices from my past.

And there there was Donna.

Donna lives in Missouri and I met her through this newsgroup. We started to email each other outside of the group as we got on so well. Donna has MS and sometimes wasn't able to get out of bed. Other times she'd be up but still only had the computer for communication with the outside world. She loves animals and her husband, John, is a vet who brings home anything he takes pity on. This meant that at one point they had about 14 dogs.

Over the years Donna has had some really scary times, like when she lost her sight for a few days and no one knew if it would come back.

We stayed in touch via MSN Messanger- conversations that lasted hours- and then email. She helped me when Luvbug went away to Ecuador and I didn't know if we'd ever be together- heartbreaking. She helped me through very black depression and worries and helped me make decisions when I needed to.

I've tried to help too, through some difficult times that her family went through, and through the various ups and downs of illness.

Lately we haven't emailed as often as before, just updates, rather than daily contact.

The latest update is devastating. She has been diagnosed with leukaemia and has been told she may have 6 months.

We always thought we would meet up, just took it for granted. Now it seems that would never happen.

Last night Luvbug and I tried to hatch a plan. He could stay here and look after mum and Scooter, I could fly over to Missouri on a Friday, stay the weekend, return Monday... a long way for a short trip, but mum reacts badly to change of routine, and at least me and Donna would finally meet.

The more I thought of it, the more I wanted this to be possible. And I'm convinced that if I don't at least try this I'll always regret it. When the reality set in, the long journey on my own, the strangers, the distance, I started to feel panicky. But I went to Australia on my own when I was 19, and I just have to take a deep breath, 'gird up my loins' (!) and be as brave as that pushy teenager I once was.

Now over to Donna. I asked her what she thought about it, and also which airport was nearest! (Kansas, apparently.) She said she is jumping with excitement and can't wait. It will depend on how well she is after her next chemo in a few weeks. She hopes she is up to it. So do I.

I told her don't worry, I'll get there somehow. And I told her to stop bouncing, that just can't be good for her!

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Seriously, anyone out there lived through losing a friend? I've lost friends, but only been told they've gone after they've gone. I haven't been *through* the leaving part before, the goodbye. If you've been there, I'd appreciate some advice. Other than trying to be strong for her and smile, I don't really know what else I should do.

This is where people with faith have an advantage over those of us that don't- we don't really know what to do at this point. In a past life I'd be praying and having Mass said for her. Now I think I might plant a tree....