Imagine this. You get a text message from an old friend of yours, "Did you hear about so-and-so?". So-and-so, let's just call her Jane, is an aquaintance of yours from middle school. Slightly confused, you decide to go to her Facebook page to see what's going on. Well, there's nothing on her profile or status, so you look on her wall. Listed there are 10 to 15 posts, and counting....
"I never really knew you, but you were such a great person."
"I love you and I will miss you so much."
So what's going on? This is Facebook Death.
This is what happens when someone who has a Facebook dies. In this case, your old aquaintance got into a car accident just the night before and passed away. Word got around, and before you even know it, her Facebook has become a virtual memorial.
People are leaving Wall posts like flowers on the roadside. They change their statuses to "missing their friend" or "knows she's in heaven now." They might even switch their profile picture to any photo they may have taken with Jane.
This is mourning gone Digital Age. No longer do we have a candlelit vigil. We leave a post on Jane's wall, maybe have a picture up, and be done with it. The information for the funeral will be put up in a group or an event. Most likely within 24 hours there will be some kind of group devoted to mourning Jane, where people will write about how much they loved her, post pictures, disuss favorite moments.
What has happened to us? The one thing that seems like it could bring us out from behind our computer screens is becoming just another online event. Not even death can tear us away from our internet customs. Usually, it seems like a tragedy like this would tempt us to pick up the phone, cry on a best friend's shoulder, get together with people and work through the pain. But instead we join a group and type up empty memories. We message old friends. We browse through pictures, click after click, to remember our friend.
Their page will remain up, possibly forever if no one knew their password. Facebook pages turn to gravestones. Jane will be immortal on the internet. To anyone who didn't know she had passed, they could browse over her page and have no idea that the person they just friended will never friend them back.
Promise me, if I die, you won't create a group for me. Take the money from my old wallet, I won't need it anymore, and go to dinner with everyone. Promise me that you'll put flowers on the roadside, not send me free virtual ones as gifts. Promise me, if I die, that you'll all write letters of real memories, and throw them one by one into a fire. I would much like to be remembered this way. I do not want to be a Facebook gravestone. If I die, I want you to get in your cars and bring my mom a casserole, or all gather in my old room, or have any kind of human contact. Promise me that you'll forget about the internet, just for a day.
<3
2 comments:
sad, and very very true.
and superbly written.
my darling.
<3genevieve
An interesting irony: you don't want a Facebook memorial and you express that wish...in a blog entry! You raise an interesting paradox about Digital Age connections...they're "easier" and yet something about that ease makes them seem a little too easy.
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