The responses from friends, colleagues, and strangers are truly profound.
My good friend, weatherman Dave Price, lost his brother Steve to pancreatic cancer in 2020. (Dave wrote a beautifully heartfelt essay on the topic for us.) Inspired by a recent tweet, Dave returned to write about how social media can help us truly connect in times of tragedy and grief. I recommend following Dave on Instagram and Twitter — he has a knack for reminding his followers of all the joy and insight we can discover in everyday life.
I’m old school. I still prefer eye-to-eye conversations, excitement expressed with an animated voice versus CAPITAL letters, and a real hug instead of an emoji.
These days, social media often exhausts, exasperates, or simply disgusts me. But on occasion, it moves me: It can stimulate my brain and pierce my heart, as it did recently.
I don’t understand the algorithms that determine how posts find their way to me. But the other morning, this short tweet ran across my feed:
This is from a gentleman I don’t know, have never met, and have no connection to. His name is Mark Stokes. He lives in Great Britain. He has a PhD in neuroscience, and I gather that he’s in his early 40’s. I know nothing more.
But I was stunned at the simple nature of his tweet, the power of his message, the strength of his spirit, and the measure of his gratefulness — plus, the finality, illustrated with the red heart that ended it all. Having lost my own brother to pancreatic cancer, I stopped and cried.
And that was before I read many of the tens-of-thousands of responses Mark got from friends, colleagues, former students, and complete strangers from around the globe.
Here is just a small sample:
Take in those sentiments. The beauty of those responses, the purity of the messages, and the warm embraces from total strangers make for an incredible farewell to Mark Stokes. They also provide a well-timed lesson in love for one another during this season of goodwill.
I don’t have more to add.
Great wisdom and beautiful expressions of love lie in the more than 53,000 responses that have been written already — and in the beautiful tweet which inspired them all.
To Mark: I pray for you. But even more so, I pray for your peace. You have illuminated the lives of your students and colleagues, brought light into the lives of your family and friends, and have now inspired strangers as well. Rest in the glow of your good deeds.
May your memory be a blessing.
