Modern Loss: Sharing Grief and Finding Solace on Social Media

Today, I received a text message from my dad: “I know you knew Donna. On 4/18, Donna and her family were involved in a tragic car accident while on vacation in New Zealand. Donna has passed. Parents are in critical condition.”

At 22, Donna was a couple years younger than me. We danced together in the same community Chinese dance group. We volunteered together at Hand-in-Hand Chinese in Atlanta. We went to Chinese school together as children. Other than the occasional like on Instagram and Facebook though, the last time we talked was when we ran into each other randomly during the intermission of a dance performance hosted by our old studio several years ago.

Our conversation was probably generic. Unmemorable, but friendly. We exchanged pleasantries, smiles, and talked about how much all the younger kids from our dance studio had grown. We were acquaintances at best, but we were acquaintances who shared a community and a long history of growing up together.

I didn’t know how to process the news. I drafted text messages to several people that I knew were mutual friends, but eventually decided against sending a single one. I was scared that they hadn’t heard the news yet. I was scared of being the one to tell them about it.

Just days ago, I remembered seeing her post a photo of a wine tasting in New Zealand. Someone had commented on the photo: “omg! you’re traveling everywhere lately!” “yeah,” she replied, “I’m just trying to see the world :)”

Days later, she changed her profile picture. “Enjoying the seaside breeze.”

The morning of her death, she posted six photos to the last Facebook album she would ever make: “New Zealand Adventuuures: exploring a beautiful corner of the world.”

In the wake of her death, these things are haunting and beautiful - they are a testament to her person. The long drawn out U’s in “Adventuuures” are whimsical and playful. A caption to a photo reads: “Los suspiros son aire y van al aire. / Las lágrimas son aqua y van al mar. / Dime, muter, candy el amor se olvida, / ¿sabes tú adónde va? — Bécquer, Rima XXXVIII” A reflective girl. Do you know where you are going?

Facebook, a place used generally for sharing links, likes, and preferences, is transformed into a place for sharing grief. Posts flood her wall:

“Thank you for sharing your limitless effervescence and geniality with me and so many others. You will be dearly missed.”

“I will never comprehend what I did to deserve the privilege of your endless smiles and hugs…or the surprise chocolates in my lab coat pockets every day…you said they were because I did not smile enough. Sweet girl, I was so lucky to have known you. Your enthusiasm could have lit a fire in the coldest of hearts. I will carry your light with me like so many who loved you. Thank you for everything. I will love and miss you always.”

“To the love of my life and the girl of my dreams…You had the brightest smile and the kindest soul that any human being could have had and I miss you dearly…Words can barely describe what you meant to me.”

Facebook provides one way for people to cope with a death. A Facebook page is so personal that even after death, it seems as if it is a portal that can be used to communicate with the deceased. Posting to a wall, sending a private message, tagging them in a status - whatever your preferred method of expression is - you can communicate it in that way. The Facebook profile serves as an outlet - where people can reach out and feel as if they are still able to send the deceased a message somehow. And despite the public nature of the posts (except private messages), the posts are still personal - and sometimes even cathartic. Posts speak of specific memories and talk about the special value of friendship their relationship had. These posts honor the deceased and help to show the world (her universe of friends) her best qualities and traits. And reading these posts help - if only just a little. The posts show that you are not alone in your grieving and also provide new support networks that you can reach out to.

I think the ability to experience other people's relationship with the deceased is a good way to remember him or her. It allows you to put yourself in the shoes of the person writing the post and to experience how he or she was in various contexts. It provides a deeper insight and adds [perceived] value into the loss that someone feels. By immersing yourself in these remembrances, I think you are honoring the person in the best way you can: by appreciating all of her traits and qualities - not just the ones you were familiar with.