Noel Murphy
WHAT happens to your Facebook account when you die?
It keeps going, of course.
It’s nothing for people to keep posting messages to their dearly departed relatives, friends or colleagues.
Nostalgia, recollections, petitions, simple g’days – it might sound cold but social media has the remarkable knack of keeping people connected, in its way, with those who have passed to a higher calling.
A mate of mine departed this vale of tears earlier this year.
His Facebook account’s peppered with post from friends, saying things like ‘Wish you could have seen this’, posting memories of old times and watering holes, still pushing issues of common interest.
Commemorations, anniversaries and suchlike that once might have been noted in newspaper columns are now posted to the deceased’s Facebook site. People are still checking in.
Last week dozens of people still grieving the unexpected death of another friend, Geelong chef Keegan Hynes, in January marked what would have been his 29th birthday.
It’s fair to say sentiment was running fairly high. But so too the humour that clearly characterised his many friendships.
A former head chef at Ripples on the Bay, as well as the Batesford Hotel and Cafe Go, Keegan was recalled variously by old mates:
“Happy birthday my dear friend up in heaven cooking for angels but I wish you here so Ii could get one hug,” posted one.
“I wonder what shenanigans he’s getting up to!? Celebrations are in order for this special day! Cheers big fella,” said another.
“Happy birthday buddy. You won’t get older, but we will always remember you,” said yet another.
His mother’s sentiments were heart-tugging and poignant but a telling example of where social media now stands in our psyche. They were also charmingly indicative of the gulf Keegan left in his wake:
“The only gifts today will be the gifts you left behind; the laughter, joy and happiness, precious memories, the best kind.”
