For almost twenty years now, I’ve been a quiet presence on the internet. Nothing I’ve posted has ever gone viral, though a few posts have accumulated thousands of views over the years. Most of those, I think, were posts about grief that apparently resonated with people, but for whatever reason, people have found me. Many of the people I met through this blog, as well as through various networking sites, became online friends. Some even became offline friends.
Once I stopped blogging about grief, stopped blogging every day about anything, and stopped participating in places like Facebook (Facebook banned all links to this blog, so I had no real reason to participate since all I had to say, I said here), I didn’t “see” those friends as often, but I did catch a glimpse of them online now and again, so I knew they were well.
Facebook has recently lifted their 7-year ban of this blog, so I have no real reason to continue my boycott, except that the ban pretty much put the kibosh on book sales since most of my buyers came from there, and that’s hard to forgive. I did log in to check on a friend, one who I admired and with whom I had a wonderful visit on my cross-country trip, but he was gone from the site. No record of his ever having been there. It turns out, it wasn’t his choice. Facebook just arbitrarily deleted his account. No reason. No recourse.
I’ve seen a lot of really horrible things posted online over the years, but this author, who I’ve followed almost from the beginning, has never posted anything the least bit controversial. He’d mention books, the ones he wrote and the ones he read. He’d share a joke. He’d write about his research. Oh, any number of interesting, totally benign subjects, and then . . . nothing.
He was understandably angry and mentioned his troubles a couple of times in a blog post, but then he even stopped posting anything on his blog. I emailed him, and when I got no answer, I checked obituaries. (But he wasn’t there, either. Whew!)
Obviously, we weren’t close or otherwise we would have kept in contact more frequently after our visit, but to tell the truth, I lost contact with a lot of people. I settled down, eventually began to live more offline than on, stopped writing. Most of my online friends were people I met through various author groups, some groups of which are now defunct (that’s why so many of us reluctantly migrated to Facebook). When I lost interest in writing novels, I also lost interest in talking about writing, so there went most of my online activity.
If I hadn’t met him in person, I would begin to think this disappeared friend was a figment of the internet, perhaps an avatar of some artificial intelligence, but I know for a fact he existed and that his intelligence was anything but artificial.
I may never know what happened to him, though I hope he is doing well.
Other people I have lost track of occasionally check in here with me, just to say they’re still around, which I appreciate. But then, I suppose that’s the way of the ever-turning wheel of the internet. It spins us together and then whirls us apart.
Though come to think of it, that “apart” part might just be life. Or aging. Many of the friends I’ve made since moving into my house I seldom see. Even a friend who lives a mere two blocks away!
So, for all of you I’ve lost track of, know I am thinking of you and hoping you are well and at peace.
***
Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.
Bertram's Blog 
February 2, 2026 at 7:57 am
It is sad that we lose so many friends from so many causes. You probably know Connie passed away as did Helga although I am not sure you kew Helga. My friend Kathy passed last year and all passed within a year of Cle. Ouch! So I understand what you are saying. I also cannot contact another friend whose wife had Altzheimer’s. Seems like I need to make younger friends like you.
February 2, 2026 at 9:25 am
I knew Helga. Cicy told me about her and Connie passing. (She also told me about your moving.) I met Kathy. I am so sorry. Incidentally, this is not a private website. It’s not that popular, but apparently, it’s googleable, so don’t say anything you don’t want strangers to know.
February 2, 2026 at 11:28 am
My life is an open book, but I will be more fully aware now. Thank YOu.
February 2, 2026 at 8:16 am
Facebook Jail (2020)
Sitting here
In Facebook jail
Can’t find nobody
To post my bail
Days without Facebook
Are kinda like hell
Sitting here rotting
In this Facebook jail
What did I post?
What did I do?
I don’t know
Do you?
I didn’t conform?
That just ain’t true
I’m not seeing it
Are you?
I’m in Facebook jail
Yes it’s true
Some people tell me
It’s good for you
Sitting here rotting
In Facebook jail
Can’t find nobody
To post my bail
February 2, 2026 at 9:27 am
Funny, but unfortunately, true. At least with FB jail, they sometimes let you out, but if they delete your account, there’s not much recourse. And yet, it’s still an important part of so many lives.
February 2, 2026 at 9:49 am
Nice to see you on FB again, Pat.
February 2, 2026 at 10:20 am
Thanks! Good to see you, too. It only took seven years for them to let me back on.
February 3, 2026 at 5:11 pm
I think you and I have been around the online writers’ circles for a relatively long time compared to some. I recall encountering you in a forum many long years ago! A lot of cyber friends have come and gone in those years, some perhaps dying, others just apparently backing off. I know of a few who deliberately ‘unfriended’ me over my attitude towards your president and his administration’s actions, but assume most of the ones that are missing simply drifted away. If I know/knew them IRL and kept in touch regularly, I probably know why, but it’s a little like the two Christmas cards that the post office returned this week, with a ‘Return to Sender’ sticker. We only communicate once a year via letters at Christmas, so I have no idea if the people have died during the past year, become incapacitated, moved to a different address, or what. I may never find out!
In my dog show world there is a saying that if a new exhibitor survives the first five years, they’ll likely be around for life. I don’t know if that’s the case when it comes to the internet. I suspect the novelty wears off for some, all the drama gets tiresome for others, or the addictive time commitment becomes a burden. I’ve experienced all three to a point, and through the years have dropped all my accounts except Facebook and my Blog.
I enjoy the meaningful connections, but there are a lot of others ‘on the fringe’ that I don’t follow closely so might not even notice if they disappeared. That’s a sad commentary on this 21st century version of friendship, isn’t it?
February 3, 2026 at 8:12 pm
Yes, a sad commentary on friendship, but I suppose it’s to be expected. We come together because of shared experiences, and those experiences change. On the internet, especially, things change because the platforms change, disappear, and new ones are created. I used to try to keep up, but I lost track a long time ago. So like you, it’s blogging, and now (again) sometimes Facebook. I do appreciate that you’ve stuck with me all this time. I’ve enjoyed discussing things with you, and I especially appreciate your wise words when I was going through a horrendous time.