The fading and disappearance of Aurora

I miss Aurora.

This is not the post I wanted to write today. The Bilderberg Meeting was held in Switzerland a few weeks ago, and they discussed several interesting topics that I want to address. There are also some theological issues upon which I wish to comment. And I can share some childhood memories of summer days and activities. My writing has been lagging lately—maybe it’s the summer doldrums—I cannot even motivate myself to complete the first draft of my book about Revelation—I still have two chapters to cover before I’m done.

But last night, lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come, the feeling washed over me like a wave. And when I woke this morning, the same feeling was still with me.

I really miss Aurora.

I don’t know her real name, and she doesn’t know mine. We met as WordPress bloggers; we followed each other and liked each other’s posts and commented on each other’s blogs. Ostensibly, her blog was about “adventures in singleness and misadventures in dating,” but she also wrote about Christian faith, her church, her family and friends, and her job. She was dissatisfied with the later, and in the last year of her blogging she described leaving that job and setting out on a whole new career.

Our attraction was not romantic. Aside from a significant difference in age, there are other important barriers that would not have allowed any romantic attachment. I felt no jealousy as she wrote about the men she met and dated. In fact, I took on a brotherly interest and concern over some of her “misadventures.” She began blogging when her fiancé canceled their wedding after most of the plans had been made; she endured a mental health crisis, and blogging was part of her journey back to health. Along the way she encountered some men who were kind and supportive and others who were not. From August 2014 to October 2017, her online presence was meaningful to me—sometimes humorous, sometimes melancholy, but always interesting and inspirational.

Because our minds ran in similar fashions, we connected online. She noticed and appreciated the quips and subtleties in my posts that apparently went past most readers. She expressed awareness of the ironies of life and of the elegant awkwardness of the English language. We didn’t agree on everything—what two people always agree?—but we saw many things the same way, and we understood each other most of the time.

I’m not the only person to regret her disappearance. Bitter Ben commented months ago about those blogging friends who suddenly disappear. It’s part of life: people move on to new things. They develop other interests and they stop blogging. Social media is not the most important thing in their lives, nor should it be. But when people like Aurora disappear, it leaves a hole, and sometimes that hole cannot be filled.

I understand. Her last post was about the Friday morning that her boyfriend came to her apartment and cooked her breakfast. He left a poem and a note for her. The post was tagged “engagement” and “marriage.” I get it. Her singleness, and her misadventures in dating, were over. But I wish there could have been more of a farewell. More than that, I wish that she had directed her readers to a new blog where we could stay in touch, keep up with her changing life, and continue to share concern and support for one another.

Aurora and I agreed that, in the new creation, there will be a place where Christian WordPress bloggers will gather to meet one another face to face, to remember the fun times we had together online, and to enjoy one another’s company as we experience the ongoing, eternal celebration of the Lord’s victory over all evil. I look forward to seeing her on that Day. Meanwhile, I hope and pray that things are going well for her in her relationship, in her career, in her faith, and in her life.

Dear Aurora, I know you’re out there somewhere. God’s blessings to you in all that you are doing. And if there is some way we can reconnect, just to be online friends and mutual support, please let me know. J.

What about it, readers? What would you like to see next from Salvageable? Are you interested in world politics and the topics discussed at the Bilderberg meeting? Would you prefer theological topics—perhaps some insights gained while writing about the book of Revelation? Or are you most curious about his childhood experiences of summertime and those memories? Let me know!

27 thoughts on “The fading and disappearance of Aurora

  1. While I understand that her blog was about being single, I perceived Aurora’s sudden departure to be a blindside of sorts. After all, she was not yet married and many would be interested in the leadup to her marriage. She owes her readers nothing, but it would have been (and still would be) nice to know how her life has gone.

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    • Yes, it would be nice. When I first read her final post, I didn’t pick up on the fact that the note on the table was a marriage proposal. I gather the same is true of the rest of her readers. Had we congratulated her and shared best wishes with her, maybe she would still be in touch–probably under a different title, because I think she intended her very subtle announcement of being engaged to be her last post as Authentically Aurora. By the time I caught on, it felt too late to congratulate her. J.

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  2. I miss Natalie— she was one of the first folks who began following my blog when I started 6 years ago. We had many similarities— married to “older” men— mine is a ten year gap, hers was 8. We each had an only child- we each had a parent who had battled dementia, we were both retired educators having both taught 31 years— both conservative both lovers of gardens both lovers of the Lord— we chatted often over the phone or text or email, yet we never met.
    We always said we’d sip lemonade out her garden. She was 16 years older than me.
    We cried together over family struggles and losses— the last thing she did was to make and send 2 quilts for my granddaughter when she was born.— when she developed cancer— it was plying out much like my aunt’s had and I knew how things would play out—
    We text while she was in the hospital— one evening I told her it was time I paid her a visit and I’d fly out to Fort Worth that week— but her daughter actually text back that her mom was weak and wanted me to wait until she was stronger — 4 days later Natalie went home to be with the Savior she adored.

    I often find myself now with a painful and deep palpable sense of loss— all for a person I’d never met but felt a deep connection to— a deep knowledge of—- life is a funny thing my friend — we grieve and mourn those who God brings into our hearts and lives- and we grieve the void which remains when they depart— please know I understand your heaviness.

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    • We are heavy of hard today because of the separation from those we love (whether we met them or not), but we rejoice in the knowledge of the reunion we will have on a glorious Day that is coming quickly. J.

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  3. I left a message on her blog about a year ago and she got back to me. I think she had good intentions of coming back to the blogging world. But life gets busy, and she has lots to keep her occupied now (with a husband and teaching job). I miss her too.

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  4. I agree that we create a community with fellow bloggers. I have several that I so enjoy being connected to, including you and your blog. When someone vanishes without a trace it’s leaves an empty space. Even though we are not physically connected there is something that binds us together. I think, even despite differences in theology or doctrine that we connect when we’re connected to Christ. He is the common denominator which binds us together.

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    • Christ is indeed the common denominator which binds us together. But, since he works through means (the text of the Bible, the water of Baptism, etc.), it is helpful to have means of connecting with our brothers and sisters in the faith (Sunday morning church, prayer groups, Bible study groups, WordPress). J.

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  5. I don’t think I was blogging before Aurora left, but it sounds like she ran a great blog. Losing friends is difficult in real life and online, thanks for being candid Salvageable.

    It makes me wonder if anyone would notice my blog shutting down. I think that would be a huge marker for knowing you did well, people care that you quit.

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