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Tombstones — can social media provide another platform for grief?
My mom was cremated when she died. At first, I liked the idea. It was clean, free from what I imagined to be defilement from decay. But as the years edged on, I found myself longing for some concrete place to connect with her. I envied people who had graves to visit. We spread my mom’s ashes in Hawaii — a world away from where I am. The handful of dust I threw into the ocean air seemed no more significant than the sand on the beach. It was fine. And small. And blew into nothingness within seconds. All of a sudden, my connection to her was as wild as the wind — like shooting a prayer into the night sky without any specific audience. She was so gone, gone, gone.
Every once in a while I will be overwhelmed with some kind of joy or regret that I wish I could share, and I’ll whisper a prayer with her name attached. “I’m sorry, mom” or “You would have laughed at this.” It is fleeting though — and seems to me like dandelion wishes. It’s at those moments when I long for a space that I could go and sit. A place I could remember and grieve and just be with her somehow.
Recently, I came across a New York Times article called, “Years ago, my sister vanished. I see her whenever I want.” The author, Keleigh Leddy, talks about how her sister’s Facebook page provides a place to connect with her. She talks about how for a…