Last Sunday, my grief showed up unexpectedly. Out of nowhere, like an ocean wave knocking a child off balance as they play along the shore. Like an undertow, pulling me slowly deeper, without notice, until I was deep, deep in my own sadness.

I had a normal morning…walking the dog, coffee, church, and even my Sunday nap…and then it hit.

The weather was cloudy, the house quiet, all my family members busy with their own work and lives. The silence loomed in the shadows, the heaviness started to pull me in. I decided to get out of the house, to “run errands” aka, get a coffee and figure out what else to do. Maybe go to the grocery store? That would be productive. I started driving, making a mental list of things we needed…protein, bread, milk…

But I couldn’t.

Instead, I drove to the cemetery and sat by Mom in the urn garden. I thought about how much I missed her…how deeply I felt her absence. It has been 8 months, and sometimes I feel like I cannot even remember her. Other times, I can feel her soft skin, paper-thin from all the medicines, yet smooth and unblemished. Her cheeks were my favorite to touch, so full and delicate, like the petal of a flower.

And there was so much more. I had 40 years to learn everything there was to know about her, listen to her stories that spanned generations of our family, and learn from the wisdom she fought for and earned. While I mostly feel that we had the time we needed and said the things we needed to say, there was so much more to be said.

And I realized that my loneliness was not lack of friendships or connection with others. It was a loneliness of thought. I cannot put into words the loneliness, the complex emotions, or why they fluctuate so widely. I cannot and will not be able to share that part of my grief. I can only share that I am experiencing it.

As I thought about the loneliness and the weight of inadequate words, I also thought about how, in my life, my loneliness has been lessened by connecting with others in my stage of life through online platforms. When I was dealing with body image and eating disorder issues, it was my online community that understood what my real-life community could not. Both were supportive, but the online space gave me something that others could not. When I began working in marketing, it was through online communities that I built connections, learned from others, received encouragement, and was challenged. And in the last 7 years, social media caregivers have been my life-saver when I felt I was drowning.

My mom would attest to the value of online connections as well. If it weren’t for Facebook and Words with Friends, she probably wouldn’t have made it as long as she did. She reconnected with old friends, made new ones, and had a window to the outside world that kept her grounded and brought her much joy. She shared her health journey and inspired so many. She even learned of relatives that she had not known existed.

When we were both at our loneliest and most isolated, our online connections made a huge difference in helping us stay positive, informed, and feeling part of something bigger than ourselves. And this is why, when I hear of AI companions for the elderly, I don’t immediately cringe. I know technology can be a tremendous help to the lives of the ones we love and, in turn, us as their caregivers. However, because we are in the wild west of AI, where innovation is advancing more rapidly than many of us can understand, I think it’s important to do our best to learn and develop our own standards for best practices.

There has been research done on AI companion tools, and I recently wrote a guide breaking it down in non-techy terms for all of us caregivers in the trenches with no time to dissect every single thing. If you are considering an AI Companion for your loved one or just want to know what one is, I recommend reading my post here.

In the meantime, just know, behind this screen, these words, I am a real person, and I see you as a real person too. You matter to me. Feel free to reach out if you need to feel less alone.