When Opa, my grandfather, died... I distinctly remember looking out his second floor window, down to the busy intersection that connected Sassenheim to the freeway and feeling so... disrespected. The most lovely man, the man so important in everyone's life, had just died and these people were just driving off to work, supermarkets, school, friends houses or wherever they were headed, like nothing had happened. It didn't make any sense to me even at 22 years old, that the entire town did not just shut down like I felt it should have.
On what is now referred to as 'that day' I had no view of 'Outside', literally or otherwise. We live in a quiet cul-de-sac with a view of farmland. I didn't know what was happening Outside, and that reminded me that Outside also had no idea of what was happening Inside. Then a message popped up on my phone with a Facebook post from a family member sharing love and condolences. My life since Nico's birth has been lived out on Facebook since actually getting out and about was difficult and our network of day to day (some may call them 'real life') friends shrunk and interaction on Facebook increased even with closest friends. I knew there was no way that would slip past people, even if it was on my own timeline. I contemplated deleting it, not for my sake but for others. Then I decided to put myself first and leave it there instead. I didn't want to call people, I didn't want to write a Facebook status. I just wanted everyone to know without ME doing anything.
It took a grand total of 3 minutes. Less time than walking to the letter box and checking for post, before messages flooded in via Facebook, SMS and phone calls. I didn't read Facebook messages at the time, I glanced at a few SMS messages and I only answered my phone a handful of times. It probably sounds really annoying, and later when I read them, people apologised at the start of the message because they felt they were invading my space somehow.
The messages and the calls, they didn't make me 'happy' and nothing could have consoled me... but what they DID do was make me feel like there were little pockets of the world (outside my immediate family) where just for a moment, something shifted and time stood still along side mine.
On what is now referred to as 'that day' I had no view of 'Outside', literally or otherwise. We live in a quiet cul-de-sac with a view of farmland. I didn't know what was happening Outside, and that reminded me that Outside also had no idea of what was happening Inside. Then a message popped up on my phone with a Facebook post from a family member sharing love and condolences. My life since Nico's birth has been lived out on Facebook since actually getting out and about was difficult and our network of day to day (some may call them 'real life') friends shrunk and interaction on Facebook increased even with closest friends. I knew there was no way that would slip past people, even if it was on my own timeline. I contemplated deleting it, not for my sake but for others. Then I decided to put myself first and leave it there instead. I didn't want to call people, I didn't want to write a Facebook status. I just wanted everyone to know without ME doing anything.
It took a grand total of 3 minutes. Less time than walking to the letter box and checking for post, before messages flooded in via Facebook, SMS and phone calls. I didn't read Facebook messages at the time, I glanced at a few SMS messages and I only answered my phone a handful of times. It probably sounds really annoying, and later when I read them, people apologised at the start of the message because they felt they were invading my space somehow.
The messages and the calls, they didn't make me 'happy' and nothing could have consoled me... but what they DID do was make me feel like there were little pockets of the world (outside my immediate family) where just for a moment, something shifted and time stood still along side mine.
