REMEMBERING TO REMEMBER

I currently have 688 Facebook friends.

People often lament that NO ONE can have a meaningful connection with the hundreds or even thousands of "friends" they accumulate on Facebook. While it's true, there are definite limits to the quality of interactions when we engage with so many people, I make a genuine effort to keep up with what is happening with my many Facebook pals.

To that end, I will often scroll through my entire friends list and pull up any profile with which I don't have a clear memory of recent postings and peruse their page for latest developments.

Amazingly, even I, with a notoriously bad memory, will look at the thumbnail of someone's profile and think "he just moved to Florida" or "she just had a baby" or "his mother is very sick and dying".

It was through Facebook that I learned of the sudden, untimely passing of my friend Todd Kauchick.

I met Todd when I first moved to NYC in 1991. Todd was so upbeat and willing to extend himself to this stranger, that he instantly cracked my somewhat aloof facade. Four years after his death, Todd's Facebook page still remains active, allowing his many friends the chance to pay tribute or even write directly "to" Todd about how much they love and miss him.

Yesterday, Facebook prompted me to re-post a photo from "On This Day 3 Years Ago".

As I looked at the comments on that post, I saw several by Alec Tanner.

Upon seeing Alec's name, I recalled he had been having health issues when last we'd interacted, some time ago. With a sense of dread, I clicked the link to Alec's page, hoping to see some good news about his condition, or perhaps even a silly cat video. Sadly, however, above the name "Alec Tanner" was the word "Remembering".

In mid-August of 2014, Alec succumbed to cancer.

I didn't know Alec in any real way. We'd never met in person. We'd never spoken via telephone or webcam. We'd never even exchanged a private message or email. I knew Alec only though various photos and content he'd chosen to share, and the public interactions we'd had commenting on one another's postings on Facebook. It was through those disparate, random and fleeting clues, that I'd cobbled together an image of Alec as a lovely, sweet, and genuinely caring individual.

Quite honestly, seeing that word REMEMBERING left me utterly grief-stricken. That sadness has persisted throughout the day and night, to this very moment. The word 'remembering' also carried with it the sting of accusation. Because I had NOT, in fact, 'remembered' Alec until yesterday's prompt shocked me into doing so.

Had Alec and I actually known one another, I'd like to think it would not have taken a full year for me to notice he had gone missing in action. Of course, my awareness of Alec's condition had zero impact on his prognosis, so my feelings of guilt are best channeled as a call of duty to remember him as best I can - and so I do so here, with fondness.

It's not much, but I suppose the only real thing any of us can do for our dearly departed friends and loved ones is simply that: remember them.