The compassion of Twitter

My Mom was one of the most social people I knew. Having people over for dinner parties, going out, having brunches, dragging us to an event, a social gathering, a parade, an art opening, or concert, you name it, she was the one, she did it. The consummate hostess, tour guide and cruise director all wrapped into one. What’s more, she was big on documenting those events with lots of photos too.  Her attention to detail was astounding.  She was in essence, a social creature using social tools before social media was so cool.

It’s funny, but looking back, I didn’t always want to “go” and do this or do that or go here or go there, but once I was there I usually ended up having a pretty good time. She was truly back in the day, a key influencer. We talk about how important those “types” of people are today and my Mom was one before it even had a name.

I’d like to think that I have some of those social qualities that my Mom possessed and I think to a large part I do and I utilize them every day in the social media sphere that we all are swimming in right now, and that’s pretty cool.

Granted, she also had her fair share of things that we choose not to talk about or share, our demons if you will,  but at the end of the day we all have them and we’re all like that. There is the personal, the really personal and the social and the really social.

This past Friday April 10th, 2009, I chose to share the really personal in a really social setting with my friends on Twitter. I know some might have wondered or questioned why I did, but though the way we communicate has changed, the choice to communicate with friends has not, at least for me.

And thus I told whoever was listening Friday that my Mom had passed away on that day.

It hurt tremendously to say, but for me the response from Twitter helped me in more ways than I  have yet to understand. It humanized Twitter even more for me. It validated it for me. Why? Because when I tweeted it, no one was home and I needed to talk and I couldn’t do it on the phone without unraveling.

As of today, the warm wishes and condolences are still coming in and that means a lot. Though these people are not immediate friends and family- the impact on me has not been lost. And I know somewhere Nikki Meyer is smiling at just how social I was on her behalf… even in the end.

8 thoughts on “The compassion of Twitter

  1. Marc I’m sorry to hear about your Mom’s passing, but glad that you had friends on Twitter that hopefully made it at least a little more bearable.

  2. Sorry to hear that. You’ve a big heart and it must hurt. Wish you well sincerely, Laurent

  3. I hadn’t seen that tweet (was off the grid for much of Friday), but I’m sorry. Also, for what it’s worth, I can empathize with the loss of a parent as my dad died, suddenly and without warning, in 1995. (You can search my blog for paternal references to see what I’ve written about him.)

    Anytime you feel like chatting, I’m here for you.

  4. Pingback: The compassion of Twitter « Twitter @ Information-Source-Online.Com

  5. Marc, I am so sorry to hear about your loss. I was off the grid over the weekend and heard about it at Coffee & Social Media this morning. You have friends that care – online and offline.


    Let me know if there is anything you need ~ Cyndee

  6. Marc,

    I am so sorry to hear about you mom’s passing. I can only imagine how difficult this time is for you. All my condolences, and please let me know if there is anything I (or the collective “we” of your online community) can do to help.


  7. Pingback: Welcome… | e1evation, llc

Comments are closed.