Those Random Moments Of Connection

a virtual conversation between friends

… She was the master of seeking to understand. But she couldn’t understand the one person who mattered most — her.

Veronique decided to check out of the game on Monday…just like that — all gone.

I’m shocked, sick, and suddenly aware.

The end of Todd Hannula ’s short post hit me hard and in the gut. Non linear waves containing every death that mattered, the ones that had changed me and brought me to my knees, rolled through me with a chill.

Todd is a friend, one that I don’t know particularly well, though my decision was instant and strangely decisive.

I need to publish this, to frame it, to do what today he is incapable of doing. I needed to, in what could not even close to perfect, do what I could to honor the pure words of a friend, authenticating them as best I was able. Giving what I could to someone who without knowledge or intention had just done something for me.

Did I mention it had been a bad day? Epic, comes to mind. The request app crashed after two fucking sentences. Absent context, absent condolences, it was a terse email request to “house this great piece.”

Oh fuck. With a growing pit of dread in my gut I realized that it will appear I forget his friend just ended her life. Not to mention the absent apology.

That could not have sounded worse.

“But hey, your essay was kick ass!”

Groan.

It was just before one am when I finally sent off my hastily worded and awkward, halting explanation.

The text message notification popped up at 5:58am.

Todd - ”Hi Al- got your email. I’m so sorry my message to you was so sloppy that you completely misinterpreted it. I was so glad you asked for it — I hadn’t thought about CC b/c I’m a bit confused at the moment. You did everything right — I am fucked off at myself and then that feels indulgent and selfish — a circle of madness. Thank you for asking for the story! It spreads a message about Veronique and hopefully alerts people to reach out to their Veronique. Thank you — you did that. Smile.”

Al - “Hey Todd, you doing okay? I’ve been there. It sucks, plain and simple.”

Todd - “I’m ok. Thanks. It’s weird because, well, I’m going to write about it. It’s kudzu making its way through everything else in my past/present/future life/brain. Thanks again for caring for the story. I didn’t cry when I lost my dear grandfather 2 years ago — was it two years? This gives you some insight into the box that has just opened. Peace.”

Al - “I can well relate. When mom died in 2010 I didn’t cry for over a year — at all. Grieved intensely, but couldn’t break down. Then, watching the final scene in Muriel’s Wedding of all things, I lost it. Hard, like the ugly cry. And it was exquisite, fucked up, and redemptive all rolled into one.”

Todd - “Sending a hug to you. Thanks for sharing. It’s a dark messed up world that we don’t acknowledge. Thanks for building a publication where we can talk about. Peace.”

Al - “Right back at you.”

It was one of those things you attempt to explain to non internet users but will never be quite able to articulate accurately. One of those moments where everything slows down just slightly, time and reference somehow fade, and pure, human connection occurs.

Nothing overly profound, no imparted gems of wisdom, and as quick as it began it was over. A brief, tender moment of oddly rich nuance; it was the place friendship manifests in action.