Wednesday, July 25, 2012

web memorials


As so many others I have known, I fought it for a while, but many of us—across generations, genders, socioeconomic groups, races, cultures, and subcultures—eventually wind up joining some sort of online social network and/or creating a personal or family web page. For some, it is an additional way to communicate with loved ones, distant and near; for others, it is a way to meet new people and/or network for employment and business; and for many, it is a way to feel a sense of community and to have an opportunity to express themselves and connect with others without the limitations and social constructs and, perhaps, discomfort and awkwardness that in-person communication may indicate. Given the explosion of popularity of online communities, the growing creation of and participation in web memorials and virtual cemeteries as a bereavement ritual comes as no surprise. This relatively new phenomenon not only indicates a circular pattern of grief and its need for a voice in today’s linear and cacophonous society, but it also begets questions regarding social isolationism versus healthy interpersonal relationships in the midst of grief. These are the concepts addressed by Brian de Vries and Judy Rutherford in “Memorializing Loved Ones on the World Wide Web” (2004) and by Pamela Roberts in “The Living and the Dead: Community in the Virtual Cemetery” (2004).
Grief needs a voice. It needs a safe place to be heard—an accepting place and a patient place. Additionally, given the highly mobile culture in which we live, it needs someplace widely accessible. The creation of web memorials and virtual cemeteries as a grieving ritual fits postmodern society like a glove. As discussed by de Vries and Rutherford, unlike the highly communal sense of loss and grief reminiscent of colonial America, grief is now more commonly seen as an individual, personal affliction with a limited window for open expression. The Internet provides a valuable opportunity to grieve within a supportive, highly accessible (albeit virtual) community and process the loss without concern for whether or not the grief fits current social expectations of emotional display, length of grief, who ‘should’ grieve, and who ‘should’ be grieved. Web memorials provide a ritual to address the circular grief that society at large no longer seems necessarily capable of supporting.
The virtual community feeds the need to talk about the loss—even to talk to the lost—and allows the bereaved to process their feelings and participate in catharsis without the sense that they could be burdening others with their grief. Cyberspace is a perfect postmodern venue for maintaining relationships with our deceased loved ones without judgment. It is a “way to stay connected, no matter the distance or time” (p. 65). Evidence also indicates that this new ritual does not generally foster isolationism and is not a manifestation of clinical maladies, but is, instead, another way to remember and honor lost loved ones with the support of other families and individuals. Web memorials are interactive communities where people are able to share stories, ideas, comfort and support in the midst of difficult times.
Cyberspace offers a much-needed community, including the four elements described by McMillan and Chavis that are key to creating a psychological community: membership, influence, integration and fulfillment of needs, and shared emotional connection (1986, as cited by Roberts). Provided online is a place for the disenfranchised mourner, a virtual ear for the stories of the bereaved, and an accessible quiet venue for remembrance. While these communities may not be physical, the psychological and emotional connections that are made are no less real for those who visit them.
Considering disenfranchised mourners, I cannot help but think of my dad as an example. When my former stepmother (they had divorced) passed away in 2003, her body was cremated, the ashes were scattered at Lady Bird Lake (amid a host of poison ivy); and she specifically required that my dad be barred from any of her funeral proceedings. I suppose she was so finished with the idea of my dad that she wanted distance in life and in death. I can only speculate on her reasons, but the end result is the same: my dad’s grief, to this day, has been left stunted. My dad even jokes at the idea that the ashes were intentionally spread in poison ivy as an additional safeguard against visiting the memory of my stepmom! Perhaps, given my dad's pariah status in the community of her ex-wife, grief could be unravelled and processed and supported via website. Maybe Dad could find that there is more support and connection than previously assumed. Maybe the lines of communication stemming from that marital history could be reconnected and healed. “Online communication becomes not a substitute for direct communication, but rather an aid in communicating both on and off line” (p. 72).




References
De Vries, B., Rutherford, J. (2004). Memorializing loved ones on the world wide web. Omega—The Journal of Death and Dying, 49(1), 5-26.
Roberts, P. (2004). The living and the dead: Community in the virtual cemetery. Omega—The Journal of Death and Dying, 49(1), 57-76.

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