ones and zeros

Comforting someone who has suffered a loss is the hardest thing to do. They've come to you seeking some sense of understanding, but all you can give is a sympathetic nod while you search around inside trying to remember the last loss you suffered and if anything could have helped you then. When it comes down to it, the closest you can come to helping is just listening, since what words of encouragement you may speak ring hollow even to yourself.

It's even harder over the wire. A message popped up on my screen two nights ago that put me into that kind of situation. Just a frowning emoticon sat there, prompting my inquiry, probing to discover if anyone was actually there on my side to listen. Snagged by the hook and somewhat bored, I responded with the awaited inquiry. His friend of 18 years had passed on the night before, bowing out quietly and without complaint .

The internet widens the gulf that is already so daunting between human beings. For all the connections available, sometimes it only barely suffices the minimum conditions of interaction. The range of options is just a false front.

I read his messages, which came broken with large silences in-between. The chat window prompted responses, some way to know that his words didn't just pass through unseen, so I did what I could to be there.