There aren't many bloggers around who started back when I did with my very first blog; Dooce was one of them. She committed suicide earlier this month, and while I wasn't a friend or even an acquaintance I was upset to hear the news. I used to recommend aspiring writers read her blog to understand voice and honesty.
Outliving one's colleagues is not fun, something I've known since my writer friend Monica Jackson died. You want to say something with meaning for those they left behind. Despite the fact that we probably would have disagreed on basically everything if we ever had become friends, Dooce was a hell of a writer. I wish she had gotten the help she needed to deal with her depression, as I know she had two kids.
Rest in peace, Heather.
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