I don’t have many photos of my dad. He passed on before social media and phone cameras became a thing. We (my siblings and I) do have a few here and there, mostly in family photo albums (not digital ones that exist on Google Photos and the likes). Looking at those family albums, the pictures look contrived and posed. Fewer photos contain candid moments. The videos are a lot rarer. A few family weddings, maybe. And, of course, it was all ceremonial. But real videos of him with live-down moments, unabridged, with no constraints of events or festive mood, I have none.
This brings me to my musings on this note… I have gazillions of photos and videos of myself with my friends and family. Off-the-cuff conversations with loved ones. Videos at parties and of several trips, Lots of candid moments captured. Plenty are shared over the internet, a whole lot more in private places and machines. These will live on after me (unless there’s a complete nuclear apocalypse).
But does this help manage grief? Does the availability of memories not cause loved ones not to let go? Or does it help to better manage the passing on of loved ones by reliving the captured moments?
In this age of digital memories, where every moment can be captured and stored with just a few taps, the nature of grief has evolved. The abundance of photos, videos, and recorded conversations may provide a sense of comfort, knowing that the memories of loved ones will never fade away. But this comfort also comes with a tragic, hidden cost.
The permanence of digital memories means the grieving process may never truly end. The constant reminders of the past, the moments of shared laughter or tears, can become a source of unending pain. The notion of “letting go” becomes more difficult as the digital world keeps our loved ones ever-present, even when they are no longer with us.
But who’s to say that the constant reminder of a lost loved one is entirely negative? In some ways, the digital archive of memories can help us process our grief by providing a lifeline to the past. We can revisit cherished moments, see the faces of those we miss, and hear their voices once more. For some, this connection to the past can be healing, allowing them to come to terms with their loss and find some semblance of closure.
Yet, for others, the abundance of digital memories can be overwhelming, exacerbating their grief and preventing them from moving forward. The weight of the past can be suffocating, trapping them in a loop of despair, unable to find an escape from the constant reminders of their pain.
Perhaps the true tragedy lies in the realization that there is no definitive answer to whether digital memories help or hinder the grieving process. It is a profoundly personal experience, different for everyone who faces the loss of a loved one. What brings solace to one person may bring unbearable pain to another.
As I look back at the few photos and videos of my dad, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing for more. More candid moments, more laughter, more memories. But perhaps it is this scarcity that makes them even more precious, forcing me to cherish every fleeting moment and hold on to the love that remains.
And so, I find myself caught between the tragedy of what has been lost and the solace of what remains. In this digital age, as we grapple with the complexities of grief and memory, perhaps the most important lesson is to learn to embrace both the beauty and the pain and to find a delicate balance between holding on and letting go.
Written by Chief of Albany
Good read….
❤️