By Jim Joseph
When I first signed up for Facebook eighteen months ago, I did it for work. As a marketer and I needed to understand the world of social media. The only way that I could get my agency and my clients engaged was to know it myself, first hand. But I had no idea at the time how important it would become in my life.
So I created my profile and started searching for friends. Like everyone else who's been on Facebook, I immediately started getting requests from high school and college friends who I hadn't seen in years. I racked up my friend count and starting posting some of my own activities and whereabouts. It was fun.
It was fascinating to see what my long lost friends were up to, how many kids they had, where they were living, even what they looked like. I felt really connected to the different phases of my life for the first time. I wasn't prepared, though, for the friend request that came one early morning from a college fraternity brother who I hadn't seen in years. Seeing his name instantly brought back so many memories – he was a bit of a mascot in our fraternity, one of those guys that everyone loves. Always the life of the party.
With a big smile I accepted the request and then popped onto his wall, only to learn that he had been diagnosed with a rare and incurable form of cancer. The doctors said it would be a matter of months. Tears welled up as sadness set in. Was I mourning my old friend? Mourning our amazing college years together? Mourning the suffering that I knew he was going through? Mourning the loss of youth? All of the above.
As I began to read the posts on his wall, I realized that he and his wife were using Facebook and social media to fight this cancer. They were chronically their journey, the ups and downs, as a way to get it all out there and stay connected with their family and friends. They were determined to fight it, and I felt honored that he enrolled me in the fight.
Their vast network of friends, including all my fraternity brothers, followed every experimental treatment, every trip to the hospital, every hour spent playing in the backyard with his three young kids. We would comment back on his posts, and on each other's posts, to send encouragement. Although distance and work kept us apart, we were still with him and his family. It was a roller coaster ride and we all felt like we were on it with him. His wife was also keeping a journal on caringbridge.org and we'd get links to that on Facebook so that we could keep up with the details of the treatment cycles.
It was a long, bumpy road without a happy ending. As each new therapy failed to work, we all started to feel the inevitable so our posts got more frequent and supportive. A few of my friends came up with a code word to show our support, based on his nickname from the fraternity. The other friends picked it up too and it soon became our theme of love and support that is now immortalized.
The saddest day finally came with a note on Facebook to read the latest update on caringbridge.org. The end was near and our dear friend was going into hospice. He and his wife needed our support now more than ever. Tears.
Without ever saying a word, we kicked up our activity, and over the course of the following eight days we posted pictures and words of encouragement to our beloved brother. As I saw friends post old pictures and tell funny stories, I was enthralled in an amazing circle of support with limitless energy. I know his wife was reading these posts to him and I know that all of the support from a distance was helping them get through the most horrible time possible.
We were with both of them, every step of the way. On Facebook, right up to the end. The following Thursday his wife posted that the inevitable was going to happen at any moment. We were all on watch. Literally Friday night we unknowingly held a Facebook vigil, waiting to get the final post we were dreading, but also sending notes of encouragement. We were with him, even though we couldn't possibly be with him. The moment he died we all responded within minutes.
We never talked about it, never discussed what we would do. We just all started posting notes on his Facebook page and his wife's Facebook page. As we were mourning, we knew that she was suffering, so we had to do something. All we could do is tell her how much we loved her and her husband and their family.
As the days after his death went by slowly, we tried to still be there for her, sending notes as she prepared for the wake and funeral. She told us how she was feeling and we told her how inspiring she is to all of us. Her sorority sisters and her neighbors were doing the same exact thing – we were reading all their posts too as the community of support on Facebook grew and grew, beyond imagination.
The following Wednesday night we had our own little “live” fraternity memorial to our fallen brother, and his beloved wife was posting us messages as we were toasting his memory. She asked us to do shots in his honor. It's a mind bender, I know, but it made us all feel a part of it. I'd like to think that it helped her to mourn too.
Why am I writing this? I guess because I never thought that something as superficial as Facebook would mobilize me so much. I never thought that something as superficial as social media could be put to such meaningful use. I never dreamed that Facebook would be the conduit us to help someone in their ultimate time of need. But as I think about it more, Facebook is really just a community of people.
Real people, who can choose to use the technology however they want, in any manner that adds value to our lives.
The technology is superficial; the people are human with real human needs. And here I was originally doing it just for work. Funny how life is and by the way, cancer sucks.
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Jim Joseph is president of Lippe Taylor Brand Communications, and author of a marketing book called “The Experience Effect.” |