Many of you know Lisa Roe, Online Publicist. This is part three of a guest post remembering Dewey. Parts one & two can be found at two other blogs.
Part One
Part Two
And this is the persona I’ve adopted. I am strong and do not break. I glance at death, then quickly look away. Avoid the high emotional scenarios. Keep on keepin’ on.
But, I’m grown up, now. And doesn’t age require us to rationalize reality? Be an adult, think like one. Leave childish tendencies behind. No more farms or dashes to the ocean. No more disillusioned kid. Dewey is gone.
Gone so suddenly, that all we’re left with are sharp, shocked, intakes of breath. Furrowed brows and attempts to make sense of it. “Wh….’s†left hanging in the air. Unfinished versions of ‘what?’, ‘why?, ‘where?’, ‘when?’.
My heart is heavy when I read a memorial post. My shoulders slump as I scroll through the archives of her blog, for fear that it, too, will disappear. But I keep on keeping on. Shields up, avoidance on. Then, I came across her name while reorganizing files the other day. And I sobbed.
Her name is in my files, on email lists, reading lists, lists to follow up on, emails to reply to. Her name. Dewey. Not her name, yet, her name all the same. The pun that brings to mind a blanket of delicate water beads on fresh, morning foliage.
Her online existence is as alive to me now as it was before she left. In her wake, she’s left a life suspended. Giveaways organized, date stamped, and incomplete. Stacks of TBR’s, and overdue library books by the front door. She announced her Giving Season, acknowledging all celebrations of faith for the holidays. There’s so much to do! So much to do.
She is the visionary that worked tirelessly to keep us all together. She is the inspiration who greeted me when I first started out by applauding my dream and my work. She warmly invited me in, offering advice and guidance.
Do I cry because I never knew her name? Never knew she was suffering so badly? Knowing that this outpouring of adoration and respect will forever reverberate the walls of cyber space, and worrying that they will never quite find their mark? Or, do I cry because my sadness is exposed for all to see?
I see Dewey in my mind, now. The internet, her farm. Forever frolicking the pages of books and blogs.
This was a beautiful tribute, Lisa. Thank you for exposing your heart through the hurt, as so many of us can relate to how you are feeling right now. Dealing with death is not fun or pleasant. It exposes things in each of us that we prefer others not see. But it is real. And it is, unfortunately, part of life. I appreciate your words in these posts. Thank you for sharing them with me.
Thank you for posting Lisa’s story.
Lisa, that was a beautiful way to say goodbye and help others do the same. It is awe inspiring how close we become to our imaginary friends here in blog world. These very real, amazing people that we might never had opportunity to get to know anywhere else, they become like family. I hope that everyone who reads your words will remind the community they inhabit how they feel about them.
I did not have the honor of knowing Dewey but her family will be in my prayers. She has left a legacy and apparently touched many lives, I hope her family can take some comfort in how much she was loved.
wonderful tribute to Dewey indeed. You are correct to say that she left a life (an Internet life) as yet unfinished…
That was a beautiful tribute, thank you for sharing. About leaving things undone, I was thinking about that last week. How her husband, when he is busy grieving, also has to figure out what to do with all her books and unifinished projects. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I was him.
Thank you, Lisa, for sharing this, and thanks to the blogs who gave you the space to post your reflections on death and remembrance of Dewey. She exemplified the book-blogging community she helped to build, and we’re all feeling that loss – which must pale beside the loss to her family.
The shock is incredible to those of us who knew nothing of Dewey’s suffering. And it is a wonder that her husband has been able to compose a few blog posts to keep us informed this past week.
Lisa, thank you for sharing your thoughts about Dewey and for opening up your feelings. I have yet to address her passing on my own blog; I didn’t “know” her well, but I was very aware of her far-reaching influences.
I also want to thank whoever made the “remembering Dewey” button … is it OK to grab and post it?
I’ve been going back through my archives, reading all my comments from Dewey…in that small way she and I are resuming our conversation.
thank you so much, Lisa.
Thank-you Lisa, for expressing so beautifully the sentiment that we feel about Dewey.
Thank you, Lisa, for a beautiful tribute. Here I thought I was over the tears…and now they flow again. You expressed perfectly what I think many of us are feeling. I like the vision of Dewey frolicking among the pages…it is that faith (that there is something beautiful wherever we go at death) which gives me hope that someday I will meet Dewey again, and we can keep talking books together.