I certainly know what it's like to lose track of what anchors you in place and how easy it is to find yourself so overwhelmed that you drop out of sight. I'm prone to going underground for long stretches of time myself, as winter takes a toll on my energy and desires and disposition. For me, it's mostly work that encourages my occasional disappearing acts.
So, I understand when posts from other bloggers become few and far between. While updating this blog, I decided to visit each of the "Haunts" I've followed and delete the dormant ones. I was surprised by the number that haven't been updated in an extremely long time--like more than a year.
I couldn't help wonder where life had taken these fine bloggers. I hope that they are enjoying a long hiatus; that they are simplifying their lives and shifting gears. Still, the long absence of these well-crafted blogs, replete with memorable prose and dramatic photography, raises nagging questions. As I made my rounds, I recalled some of the exchanges I've had with these fellow riders. I poked around each blogspace reading and recalling fond memories.
Then the saddest memory of all.
When I visited this blog, my recall was instant. I remembered the death announcement when it was first posted there. I had forgotten, I think, or perhaps just suppressed a memory I preferred to deny. Then as now, I want to know what happened to Chris. Perhaps the mystery isn't what's important. Still, I couldn't help wonder how and why this life ended so young, so early. I paused there to re-read posts, which brought him back to life even if momentarily. I exited the site but not before re-reading the beautiful poem dedicated to this short and obviously rich life. This blog was the only specific confirmation that answered what happened to one of the missing bloggers. I never knew Chris, really, but we communicated nonetheless. His is a site that will live on my blogroll.
Experiences like this always make me relive my brother's death. They say you need a year to grieve. I know well that death is a fact of life. None of us gets out of life alive. Still, it's a challenge. My revisits to blog sites has taught me a lesson I keep learning again and again in different ways: letting go is not so easy. Even if a site is “dormant,” pushing "delete" demands more than simply depressing the button.
People live on in us in ways even we might not be able to comprehend.
We each learn to let go at our own time, in our own way...
Update:
Just before posting this, I decided to do a general Google search on Chris. I found this (scroll to read).
RIP
