Somewhere in the world
Are friends I've missed from long ago
Could be drifting by the wayside
Or even dead - I just don’t know
And now my memories are fading
Like melting footprints in the snow

Do you ever wonder about the people that wander in and out of your life?  The short-term neighbor, the friendly mail carrier, the barista you used to see every day until suddenly someone else is pulling your coffee, your teachers, your college roommates. So many people make just a brief appearance and then they’re gone, like extras in the movie of your life. 

At the job I quit recently I had a coworker—I’ll call him Fred.  We worked together for only a few months.  I don’t know him well, but well enough to care what happens to him.  He left the organization shortly after I did, and moved across the country.  In the old days, that would’ve been that.  Another extra walked off my set and vanished backstage. 

But in these modern Facebook times, you can keep track of those extras.  I knew that he had a new job, that he’d reconnected with a former girlfriend, that he thought New Jersey less attractive than Seattle.  And then he broke up with the girlfriend.  And then he dropped off the internet grid by shutting down his Facebook site.

Generally, I wouldn’t think much of that.  Facebook is a huge time sucker and can be uncomfortably public.  My husband received a friend invite from someone, only to discover that the guy had changed his mind and shut his site down.  The public eye is not for everyone.

But Fred has a history—he’s emotionally unstable, at best.  At worst, he’s a suicide risk.  So the combination of breaking up with the girlfriend and cutting off connections, even the superficial connection afforded by Facebook, I find it alarming. 

Even though he’s an extra, and I may never see him again, I want him to be ok.  Maybe that’s the value in all of our time-sucking technology.  In this huge and often cold world, our little electronic selves are constantly waving their arms and shouting, “I’m still here!  Maybe you haven’t seen me in days or years or decades, but here I am and I’m ok.” 

And in turn we get to wave back and say, “I’m glad you’re ok.  It’s been a long time, but you still matter to me.” 

So I’m going to text Fred a little electronic hug tomorrow, because I want him to know that I hope he’s well and safe.  I wish the same for many others that I’ve known, but they’re long gone.

Like gray mists conceal horizons
I miss those times we'll share no more