Digital Obituary

A friend of a friend passed away last week. His facebook is still there, his profile picture showing a happy smile, his photo albums showing nights out drinking and days spent volunteering. There is an uneasy feeling that rises from my stomach as I continue to browse. He's right there in front of me, living on, showing the world his youth and possibility. There are no boundaries, but I feel like I'm trespassing.

I know that people who haven't heard of the latest would assume that he's doing fine.

Those that did though, leave messages on his wall.

"Now why did you have to go and do that, man?"
"Rest in peace brother, I'll be seeing you at the Pearly Gates"
"I'm not going to forgive you for this."

He's speaks still. The living scrutinize in greater detail who he was and is. Validating his existence.

It's similar to the part of the wake where a longtime friend speaks fondly of his departed to an audience, maybe recanting a hilarious moment they had together. Laughter into tears, tears into silence.

Some technological purists envision a life beyond flesh and bone, where they continue to function and evolve in a digital domain -- it's a concept often cited in science-fiction novels and movies. The transfer between these planes extends well beyond grafting metal and tissue, but rather in the resurrecting of the soul. We're not quite there yet.

The wall posts are the only thing that indicates his passing. Perhaps, more fittingly, his facebook represents a kind of Purgatory. Everyone else will be updating their own profile pages, uploading more pictures, writing more notes, and adding new friends, but this guy won't. He floats around in digital space unclaimed and frozen in time.