The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say when one ends, and where the other begins?Edgar Allan Poe
As our world become increasingly digitized, and social networks link friends across the spaces and lines of our lives, an interesting phenomenon occurs as people die.
My Mother passed way too early at the age of 30. This event set forth a chain of events in my own life in which I’m cognizant of my own mortality, and to some extent (try to) live for the day. Most times this is a struggle and I don’t actually live each day to the fullest because there is also a fear that at any point life will/could fall apart. These two elements keep me in a constant state of neurosis…but I digress.
This has also brought about this need that I have to be remembered. As an angry adolescent, I wanted to be remembered after I die. Not just by friends and family, but I also wanted others to know me, or my work, or my name. Because my Mother may have been a blip on the radar, I wanted to be remembered.
I don’t think it’s a case of vanity, although I’m sure there is a subtle dose of that. I think there is also some desire to write myself into being, but also make up for time lost by my Mother.
Because of the time period in which she died, there is relatively little documenting her life. A handful of scattered, yellowed photos. A half dozen lost home videos that can only be viewed on machines that don’t exist.
Looking and listening for a story unremembered is like the daily ritual of an archeologist.
What do you live for? How do you want to be remembered after you have passed?
What…if anything will your digital breadcrumbs say about you when you’ve stopped logging in?