Music, Memory, Remembrance

dance floor

But hearing it again, knowing that we’re not invincible — that I’m no longer 20, and he is no longer here — was odd. It’s as if the song died with him.

Online Mourning and the Unexpected Refuge of Facebook

digital afterlife-header

Alone, I sobbed. Yet I sobbed with Facebook open—his life revealed and exposed in bits on my screen, his friends spilling tears on his profile. I sobbed at home, by myself, but also with everyone else.

(Digital) Life After Death: A Perfectionist’s Postmortem Fears

digital afterlife-header

And then I think about the public profiles that I have no qualms about leaving behind, and the aspects of my digital persona that would never change—the bits of data on my various profiles that my spirit would approve, long after I am gone.

On Sorrows and Spirits

Post-Memorial Ritual, June 2011.

We become heavy when a loved one passes away. Weight in the form of tears and wails. Yesterday, my godmother, Lola Maxima, used a concoction of wine and steaming hot water to cleanse guests in the home of the recently departed—my uncle Mike, a loving father to three cousins with whom I grew up, a wonderful husband to my aunt Genie (my father’s older sister), and an always warm, lighthearted person with a perpetual smile. I first participated in this family tradition when my father’s father died years ago. (I took the… Read More