Instant messages of love

I'm not usually a fan of technology. In fact, I often idealize the times when neighbors caught up at the mailbox, friends caught up in church foyers, and acquaintances exchanged pleasantries while waiting in line at the checkout. When telephones rang only when there was something to say. When letters came handwritten, blotted in places with liquid whiteout, tri-folded and slid into envelopes with human saliva in their seals and real stamps on their lapels boasting images of wild flowers, lighthouses, and poets.

But this week I've appreciated technology, particularly instant message. That little blip sound signaling a message from someone back home; a message of sorrow, a message of peace, or a detail about the visitation, the service, the burial. More messages than I deserve have come through expressing love and encouragement for me, simply because I can't be there. Words from my brothers like, "hang in there," "wish you could be here," "thoughts of you," and "love you so much." And my words to them, "I just woke up. Are you at the visitation?" "I miss you all so much," "I just talked to Mom," "Gosh I love you guys."

Cousin love, taken at Marcy and Jerry's in 2002: Diana, Denny, Marcy, Randy, and Sandy