The whole story is built upon that (imho, ridiculous) assumption. Some unwitting stranger just got their new phone set up, and you're going to text them that?! It comes across as a strange mix of...
A year into our one-way conversation, I Googled “how long does it take to get a phone number reassigned?” and learned that if after 90 days the number hasn’t been given away, it probably won’t be. That’s why it came as such a shock when I received a reply from Becca’s number.
The whole story is built upon that (imho, ridiculous) assumption.
Indignant, I tapped out my reply: “I’m sorry but my friend is dead, and this is the only way I have had to communicate with her.”
Some unwitting stranger just got their new phone set up, and you're going to text them that?! It comes across as a strange mix of entitlement and zero self-awareness.
I get it, people grieve in different ways. I'm not here to shit on the author's healing process or callously snark in the comments section from the comfort of my pseudonymity. All I'm saying is if a bit of fiction helps you process the loss of a loved one, that's great... but when reality interrupts your reverie, have the good grace to pause and step back from it instead of doubling down and foisting it onto random people. This reads like main character syndrome.
I find it rather sweet and explores the weirdness of grief in a mass digital era, which was born only relatively recently and doesn't yet fully acknowledge and design for the inevitable. We die,...
I find it rather sweet and explores the weirdness of grief in a mass digital era, which was born only relatively recently and doesn't yet fully acknowledge and design for the inevitable.
We die, and our numbers, usernames, and handles are unceremoniously recycled. Our digital lives over time get wiped. The internet is left teeming with only the living, and on the internet it's easy to feel that our lives, words, and bytes are immortal.
I think about how past societies had reminders of death everywhere. Graveyards, and memorial and sepulchral structures were common, so that the dead could have a place among the living.
Clickbait title aside, I honestly don't get the hate for this article. I found it rather touching, and can definitely relate to the author as well. I still occasionally send my best friend...
Clickbait title aside, I honestly don't get the hate for this article. I found it rather touching, and can definitely relate to the author as well. I still occasionally send my best friend messages on Steam Chat, even though he died almost 6 years ago. I obviously don't expect an answer, or even believe that he can actually see the messages, since I don't really believe in an afterlife. But there is profound comfort in still being able to see the remnant of his digital presence in my friend list, and being able to send messages to his digital ghost. And if I suddenly got a reply from someone who had been given his account saying, "this is my account now, never message it again", I would be equally as devastated as the author was.
p.s. Incidentally, a few weeks after he died I actually did text my friend saying all the things I missed about him, and his dad actually saw it and replied thanking me for the message. His dad and I still talk occasionally via email. I haven't texted my friend's old number again since then though, since I knew the number would likely end up as someone else's eventually... but if that had been the only way I still felt I was able to send messages to my friend, I could totally see myself having done what the author did.
This is a lovely memorial to a friend. I've read about people doing this before, it's why social media accounts have memorial pages. Five years seems like a really long time for a phone number to...
This is a lovely memorial to a friend.
I've read about people doing this before, it's why social media accounts have memorial pages. Five years seems like a really long time for a phone number to stay unused, I wonder if someone else had the number in the mean time and either ignored or blocked the messages.
I find it a bit disconcerting when people don't change a deceased person's social media. I have a couple of cousins who have died and their spouse had been using their page and name for years...
I find it a bit disconcerting when people don't change a deceased person's social media. I have a couple of cousins who have died and their spouse had been using their page and name for years beforehand. But now when that person's name pops up it still says "Bob likes this page" and I mentally am jarred to remember that Bob died two years ago and its his spouse liking the page. I guess no one likes to let go, but its an odd feeling.
Agreed and as a despiser of clickbait, here's the spoiler: Click to view Phone numbers aren't permanent. Friend died. Person keeps texting it. Number gets reassigned. Someone with the number...
Agreed and as a despiser of clickbait, here's the spoiler:
Click to view
Phone numbers aren't permanent.
Friend died.
Person keeps texting it.
Number gets reassigned.
Someone with the number responds “I’m sorry, but who is this?”
At some point it was bound to happen just like IPV4 addresses. There was a time when 5 digits provided enough entropy so that your assigned number was permanent but today even ten aren't enough....
Phone numbers aren't permanent.
At some point it was bound to happen just like IPV4 addresses. There was a time when 5 digits provided enough entropy so that your assigned number was permanent but today even ten aren't enough. Another reason for not depending on just phone no. but to use other communication methods like email, social handles, etc.
The whole story is built upon that (imho, ridiculous) assumption.
Some unwitting stranger just got their new phone set up, and you're going to text them that?! It comes across as a strange mix of entitlement and zero self-awareness.
I get it, people grieve in different ways. I'm not here to shit on the author's healing process or callously snark in the comments section from the comfort of my pseudonymity. All I'm saying is if a bit of fiction helps you process the loss of a loved one, that's great... but when reality interrupts your reverie, have the good grace to pause and step back from it instead of doubling down and foisting it onto random people. This reads like main character syndrome.
I find it rather sweet and explores the weirdness of grief in a mass digital era, which was born only relatively recently and doesn't yet fully acknowledge and design for the inevitable.
We die, and our numbers, usernames, and handles are unceremoniously recycled. Our digital lives over time get wiped. The internet is left teeming with only the living, and on the internet it's easy to feel that our lives, words, and bytes are immortal.
I think about how past societies had reminders of death everywhere. Graveyards, and memorial and sepulchral structures were common, so that the dead could have a place among the living.
The five-word reply seems to be "“I’m sorry, but who is this?” (which is more than five words, but whatever).
Because the phone number was reassigned.
Grief is a final act of love.
Clickbait title aside, I honestly don't get the hate for this article. I found it rather touching, and can definitely relate to the author as well. I still occasionally send my best friend messages on Steam Chat, even though he died almost 6 years ago. I obviously don't expect an answer, or even believe that he can actually see the messages, since I don't really believe in an afterlife. But there is profound comfort in still being able to see the remnant of his digital presence in my friend list, and being able to send messages to his digital ghost. And if I suddenly got a reply from someone who had been given his account saying, "this is my account now, never message it again", I would be equally as devastated as the author was.
p.s. Incidentally, a few weeks after he died I actually did text my friend saying all the things I missed about him, and his dad actually saw it and replied thanking me for the message. His dad and I still talk occasionally via email. I haven't texted my friend's old number again since then though, since I knew the number would likely end up as someone else's eventually... but if that had been the only way I still felt I was able to send messages to my friend, I could totally see myself having done what the author did.
This is a lovely memorial to a friend.
I've read about people doing this before, it's why social media accounts have memorial pages. Five years seems like a really long time for a phone number to stay unused, I wonder if someone else had the number in the mean time and either ignored or blocked the messages.
I find it a bit disconcerting when people don't change a deceased person's social media. I have a couple of cousins who have died and their spouse had been using their page and name for years beforehand. But now when that person's name pops up it still says "Bob likes this page" and I mentally am jarred to remember that Bob died two years ago and its his spouse liking the page. I guess no one likes to let go, but its an odd feeling.
The clickbait headline seems kind of weird in this context.
Agreed and as a despiser of clickbait, here's the spoiler:
Click to view
Phone numbers aren't permanent.
Friend died.
Person keeps texting it.
Number gets reassigned.
Someone with the number responds “I’m sorry, but who is this?”
At some point it was bound to happen just like IPV4 addresses. There was a time when 5 digits provided enough entropy so that your assigned number was permanent but today even ten aren't enough. Another reason for not depending on just phone no. but to use other communication methods like email, social handles, etc.
That's six words
Actually 7. Maybe if one spells it "I'm sorry, but who's this" one could argue it's 5.