I’m watching cascades of memories and photographs on my timeline, and feeling completely unable to find the words to add to them. It’s good to see people connecting over shared and different stories, telling each other what was good, what was special, how they felt when they first met, or when they last saw. I imagine he’d have found it quite funny.
Part of me feels compelled to add something. ‘I knew him too!’, ‘I cared about him in this way’. Another part feels compelled to hold my memories to myself. ‘If you know, you know. If you don’t know, you shouldn’t know’.
Posting about death (or the memories of life), can feel like ticking a box, or like giving voice to emotion too great to ignore, a space for overflow. It can look like reaching out, or like joining in. Like jumping on a bandwagon or like embracing your community in shared grief and love. How it looks depends on … what? How your grief feels that day? Whether you’re angry or lonely or limp or overwhelmed? Whether you’re expected to say something or not? I’m still stuck on it.
During the pandemic particularly when people couldn’t be in the same space, it was often the only forum for connection. The zoom funeral, the Facebook in memoriam, the quote tweet of a death announcement with your gloss added, the Instagram story with a reel of photographs.
What’s your feeling about grief and social media?
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Salon Details
This week’s salon details are in U.K. time, 8.30pm Tuesday, which is 7.30am Sydney time and so on in your local time
Tea With Alice Salon 49
Time: Feb 15, 2022 08:30 PM London
I’ll send through the link tomorrow to the relevant levels.
Dave Nattriss
2022-02-14 00:17:44 +0000 UTCIan Stark
2022-02-13 22:41:43 +0000 UTC