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Humans have struggled with the knowledge of their own certain death since time began; indeed, many have suggested that this is what makes humans unique. Philosophers and religious leaders have offered their own ideas, but in the end, each of us has to 'walk that lonesome valley' by himself. Impending death seems to be particularly difficult around the holidays, and the death of a loved one at this time of year frequently becomes associated with the holidays in our minds. As those around us are enjoying 'the season to be jolly,' we can only seem to recall the loss that occurred during the holidays many years ago. I have two daughters, but growing up I was one of five children. Like many of us, I don't know how my parents did it, and did it so well. My older brother died suddenly and unexpectedly of a blood clot which blocked a vessel to his brain, on December 23, 1977, at the age of 31, leaving a wife and three children ages seven, five, and two. My sister-in-law has successfully raised them to adulthood in spite of it all. She is a most impressive woman. One of my sisters is now near death. A year ago she was a perfectly healthy 43 year old woman, happily married, and raising two children of her own. She has brain cancer which is gradually destroying normal brain functions. As she lays in bed near death, she can no longer remember most of the events in her life that shaped her wonderful personality. I am not sure which is the better way to go, suddenly with no advance warning, or gradually, over a period of time, hoping that perhaps medical science can somehow reverse the process, praying for a miracle, but finally realizing that it isn't going to happen. I wonder how I would deal with the death of one of my daughters. Certainly the death of one's child has to be one of the most difficult experiences in life. My father passed away eight years ago. He had to deal with the death of his oldest son. My mother is now having to deal with the death of a second child, watching, as I am, the disease eat away at the very personality and thought processes that make each of us unique. In 1977, the Internet as we know it today did not exist. We were informed of my brother's death in a shocking long distance phone call as we were involved in celebrating the joyful Christmas holiday. Every year we all recall the event with grief and tears, just as the holiday celebrations are nearing their peak. Now we will have two deaths associated with the holidays. A minister friend once said that God doesn't give us anything we can't handle, although he might give it to me, or to you. As Christians, we are the body of Christ. Individually we may crumble under pressure, but if we stick together, lending each other support in times of crisis, we will get through it. By the time I first heard that something serious might be wrong with my sister, the Internet was a part of my life and a part of our culture, and its use as a tool in dealing with the crisis, as a method of pulling us together, seemed very natural. My sister and her family had moved to the west coast after living in Boston then Buffalo. They had literally hundreds of friends scattered across the country. All were concerned about Betsy's illness and were always calling to find out the latest news. Her husband John quickly set up a list of email addresses of these friends to make communication easier. After each development, he wrote a quick summary and, with the click of a mouse, had informed everyone of it. Each change of doctors, each new diagnosis, the highs and lows, the optimism and pessimism, were passed on to everyone concerned, quickly, easily, and cheaply. Betsy and John are Episcopalian priests who believe in the power of prayer. At critical times during the year, they sent out prayer requests electronically. Immediately hundreds were offering their prayers, asking God for help. The Internet also offered an easy method for reading about Betsy's disease. We were able to review the latest cancer research, and to read about the most promising treatments. We read detailed descriptions of how the cancer might spread, of the changes that were taking place in the brain cells inside my sister's head. Somehow it helped to occasionally step back from the deeply personal experiences we were all having and to approach the cancer from an objective, scientific viewpoint. We also found web sites which were really diaries kept by people who had gone through, or who were going through, attacks on their own brains. We shared the euphoric highs when a total stranger told us of the latest good news, and shared the depressing lows when a particular brain tumor began to regrow. These were stories told in the first person by patients as they were actually experiencing them. The process was surprisingly moving and deeply personal, even though the only contact we had with them was through words appearing on our computer screens. My family and I flew to the west coast to spend Thanksgiving with Betsy. It was her last holiday in which she was still aware of everything around her, and in which she remembered her family and her past without huge gaps. I took family pictures of the kind most of us take on such occasions: carving the turkey, saying grace at the Thanksgiving table, drinking a toast, watching football on television, the children playing Nintendo. When we returned, I posted the pictures on the Internet and sent out a quick email message to everyone on the list. The responses I received from Betsy's friends assured me that the pictures were highly valued. It was almost like we were all their with Betsy, one message said, sharing a last supper. I have also posted one of Betsy's sermons, written when the end was clear, but while she was still in complete possession of her mental faculties. It is an expression of her great faith even in the midst of tragedy. The Internet offers all of us unprecedented opportunities to reach out to our fellow humans, to offer deep, meaningful support, to share our hopes and fears. As a communications medium, it is instantaneous. It enables one person to speak to another one, or to speak to many thousands, all at virtually no cost. We can share pictures, written words, and even spoken words in a manner almost unbelievable just a generation ago. The Internet truly brings incredible power to people. Yes, we must all still, eventually, 'walk that lonesome valley' by ourselves. But we can certainly make the days and hours preceding it an experience shared by friends. |