Death and Social Media
Written on May 23, 2010 by Greg Spies
It’s been a rough couple weeks.
A close friend lost his sister in a car accident three weeks ago – and just when I was beginning to breath regularly again and not self-reflect the incident on my own reality and my own beloved family – I received a Facebook message from one of my closest friend’s girlfriend.
Greg. Please call me ASAP. Teyla was hit by a bus in Sydney yesterday. She is on life support at Royal Prince Albert Hospital in Sydney. I’m flying there tonight.
Teyla, whom I called Kendra (or Bendra most of the time) had been living in Australia the past three years or so, getting a Masters Degree in Nursing. She was the first friend I made in college – and the two of us along with my friend Mairin moved out to Oregon together in 2001. She was my partner in crime for living the life less ordinary – sharing my passion for non-stop traveling, meeting as many people as possible and doing all you can to make their lives (and thus your own) more fulfilling.
I immediately called Leah and received the awful news that Kendra was most likely not going to make it. It’s hard to express just how powerfully such news alters the moment – and changes your perspective on just about everything. I suddenly realized I was in Portland – and she was in Australia – and this small world became painfully enormous.
As the emotional dust began to settle in my mind – I began typing Kendra’s name into Facebook – and pulled up her profile. What I found there has been a source of comfort and insight the likes of which I never would have expected from a website. And that’s because Facebook and social media in general are more than just webpages and iPhone apps – they are becoming the virtual reflection of our relationships. What I found on Kendra’s profiles was the shared anguish of hundreds of people whose lives she’d touched. There were cousins, her sister, Leah, friends from college, co-workers, neighbors and all her new-found friends in Australia. What had been a profile she once controlled had become a shared vigil as we all hoped and prayed and wished for her recovery. It became a place to share news of what was happening to someone we loved who was so far away. As others discovered the tragic news from status updates of friends, the vigil grew.
When the sad day arrived that Kendra was taken off life-support, the vigil became a memorial, and more photos and heart-ache poured out upon its pages. People wrote good-bye messages to Kendra – but in reality they wrote those letters to everyone – sharing their unique moments and personal sorrow with the collective.
This was a stark comparison to my first experience with death and social media. In April of 2006 my good friend from growing-up, Lucas, lost his younger brother. Tim passed away in the evening – and news reached me several days later. I was completely devastated, but I credit that event with a complete shift in my life that led to a 30-day train trip across the US and Canada shortly thereafter, followed by the endless travel and the awakening that my experience, even if I lived it in full would be too short if I wasted a single moment. Events like these reminds you that the “average lifespan” is not a guarantee – nor enough time in its own right.
Some time later I pulled up Tim’s MySpace profile – and do so even to this day. As opposed to Kendra’s, Tim must have had comments locked, because it is frozen in time from the day he left. No good-byes or well-wishes from friends, just his life as it was the day he left. It acts as some sort of modern-day tombstone – a place I can return to and reflect on his young life – and all the talent and beauty he left behind. Unlike a tombstone it does not stand silent – instead it tells me of the songs and music and books he read – of the friends he had and the thoughts and opinions he shared. You never die on social media – according to MySpace Tim is 28 now – and part of me prefers that virtual illusion over the reality. I have no doubt that I will continue to return to Kendra’s profile as well, and leave comments as the years go by. It will be no substitute for the plans we had – but it can be a source of comfort when the inevitable presence of her absence is felt.
A day after Kendra’s passing I received two messages from individuals I had never met. They had known Kendra though and she had clearly told them about me – and through Facebook they decided to contact me to make sure I was doing okay. I was unbelievably touched. This is a direct result of the power of social media. I can’t imagine how long it would have taken the news to get out to me in Oregon from Australia without Facebook – and I most certainly wouldn’t have been consoled by an Aussie who never met me.
You are not alone – you never were in fact. More people love you then the mind is capable of recognizing – and any fears or personal defeats don’t have to be fought alone. Social media unlocks the promise of a community somehow lost over the last century. While advances in transportation and urbanization have allowed us to go further and live more dispersed lives – up until recently, it has seemingly only broken the social bonds of family and friendship. With Facebook and the social media revolution however, I believe the pendulum has begun to swing back. Both tragedy and personal triumphs can be shared. Rather than having a couple of friends that you do your best to stay in touch with, you can now be connected to an entire community of people, and easily keep up with the events in their lives, as they share in yours. While many folks worry about privacy concerns, I am convinced “privacy” is an out-dated concept, the result of isolation and fear of the potential harm strangers bring. The more we get used to sharing our lives with others online, the more we will realize how much in common we have – and the more we will begin to cooperate in the success of others – and collectively mourn our tragedies. New “communities” are forming – that will be larger and more connected than traditional communities ever were.
We need not fear social media. What we should be more concerned about is loosing the connections with those around us. Stay connected.
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