Robert Scoble has done an amazing thing in sharing one of the most personal experiences of his life on his weblog that is read by tens of thousands of people. Over the past few weeks he has blogged through his mother having a stroke, the experience of being with her in the hospital and of her passing. When he got the call that she had died, he blogged about it before even calling his brothers. That may sound harsh to some, but I definitely understand the outlet.

Robert has worn his heart on his sleeve in his blog for many years. When I first met his wife Maryam, I felt like I was meeting an old friend from reading so much about her in Robert's blog.

So these posts over the last few weeks seemed very natural, though horribly sad, to read from him. I am very close to both of my parents and I very selfishly want to put off experiencing this pain until I have to. And these posts were scattered in the midst of his usual gazillion “what's going on in the world“ posts. It was all Robert, all the time, as always.

Something he wrote that I will never forget is this:

At some point in the afternoon I started crying. She must have heard because she put her hand on my face and carressed it like all mothers do when their children are in pain.

She was trying to make me feel better. And she was communicating with me that it's all OK. That she's OK. That she isn't in pain, even as her body is laboring to make another breath. That it's time. That there is still a mom left inside her broken body that won't last her very much longer.

Robert and Maryam [who likely have the largest support network in the world], because I am so incapable of standing in front of a wall of sympathy cards that I once sent a friend a funny birthday card instead when her mother passed away (and she understood and was very grateful for the laugh), here's one more hug for each of you.