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A friend of mine (not a close friend but a guy I grew up with) took his own life yesterday morning. In today’s world of “social networking” you tend to find out about these things by Facebook. I was logged in, checking out some new pictures someone had posted, when I saw the message on the news feed from another friend that he had taken his life. As this kind of news always is, it was shocking. Everything just stopped and mental images and memories came flooding in. As anyone would be, I was instantly sad and instantly sorrowful for his family.
But what was different is that we are now in the age of Facebook. Not only is the message and grief/sympathy spread in an unprecedented fashion, you also have (if they used FB that much) instantaneous connection to the last days of that person’s life. And in its own, ultra modern way, it makes it more pointed; it makes more real the grief and sadness one always feels when processing such an event.
He had posted a funny video clip just a few days ago. He had commented, in his typical humorous fashion, about something someone else had said. And perhaps most difficult to see, he had changed his relationship status. Now he’s gone – and his page is growing by the hour with messages from friends and loved ones about how much they’re going to miss him, how much they enjoyed knowing him. It makes you wish he could have seen all of this before his decision.
It is remarkable that something we do most often alone in a room staring at a screen has the net effect of bringing us closer together. Cynics complain that Facebook is lame or better left to the girls in the dorm room – but it cannot be disputed that it does give you unprecedented access into the lives of friends and loved ones. We know of the activities and feelings of our friends and loved ones that, if measured by volume, far surpasses any prior mode of communication.
This is true in joyous occasions like weddings and births – and, as I have learned in the last 24 hours, it is true in tragedy. The person remains there for you to pay your respects in your own way, whether private or public, and, more importantly, the person is there in thought, word and image for you to see and process. In some situations, like this one, the fact that the person was active just days ago make the event more difficult. I suspect, though, that the activity that remains for you to see can end up being a celebration of the memory of someone. Perhaps it does both at the same time for everyone.
But it is new and it is different – and this is my first experience with it. I wonder if any of you have experienced this and had similar thoughts about it.
But what was different is that we are now in the age of Facebook. Not only is the message and grief/sympathy spread in an unprecedented fashion, you also have (if they used FB that much) instantaneous connection to the last days of that person’s life. And in its own, ultra modern way, it makes it more pointed; it makes more real the grief and sadness one always feels when processing such an event.
He had posted a funny video clip just a few days ago. He had commented, in his typical humorous fashion, about something someone else had said. And perhaps most difficult to see, he had changed his relationship status. Now he’s gone – and his page is growing by the hour with messages from friends and loved ones about how much they’re going to miss him, how much they enjoyed knowing him. It makes you wish he could have seen all of this before his decision.
It is remarkable that something we do most often alone in a room staring at a screen has the net effect of bringing us closer together. Cynics complain that Facebook is lame or better left to the girls in the dorm room – but it cannot be disputed that it does give you unprecedented access into the lives of friends and loved ones. We know of the activities and feelings of our friends and loved ones that, if measured by volume, far surpasses any prior mode of communication.
This is true in joyous occasions like weddings and births – and, as I have learned in the last 24 hours, it is true in tragedy. The person remains there for you to pay your respects in your own way, whether private or public, and, more importantly, the person is there in thought, word and image for you to see and process. In some situations, like this one, the fact that the person was active just days ago make the event more difficult. I suspect, though, that the activity that remains for you to see can end up being a celebration of the memory of someone. Perhaps it does both at the same time for everyone.
But it is new and it is different – and this is my first experience with it. I wonder if any of you have experienced this and had similar thoughts about it.
