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Memory is a funny thing. When I was writing a post this week about memory, I had forgotten a date. It was a very important date. It was the date that my sister died.
You would think that that date would be one that is seared in my memory. But it’s not. I can never remember it. But every year, around the same time, I start feeling glum. My body feels run down. Nothing can cheer me up.
And then I understood.
That date is not seared into my memory; it is seared into my body, into my very bones. My body still remembers the weeks and days leading up to that date, and I feel that it always will, no matter how many years have passed. It’s the time leading up to my birthday, a date that I’ve never cared too much for, and a date that even now is still laden with sadness.
But I wanted to make a statement in my post about the number of years passing, so I needed to remember the actual date and year. And like the good Gen Xer that I am, I Googled it (or rather, I Binged it. I’ve been using Bing for a while now and have liked the results I’ve been getting better than Google). I typed: “Sister Name Obituary.”
Even just typing that search string out, I’m almost overcome with grief. I was hoping that I would (and that I wouldn’t) find the information that I needed. The first link that popped had an oddly cheerful title for its subject matter: Find a Grave.
I clicked into the link, and the font of the site’s name throws me off a bit. It’s a chipper font with pink highlights, and it sits next to a tombstone logo with a gigantic question mark on it.
Lo and behold, the link took me directly to a picture of my sister’s gravestone. How did this get there? I certainly didn’t put it there, and I knew that my parents have zero tech savvy, so it certainly wasn’t them. Ah, the handle of the person that uploaded the photo is there (I’ve changed the name): FlowerBlossom.
I click into the link behind FlowerBlossom, and I see that this person has been a member of this site for seventeen years! She writes that she does this for the particular cemetery that my sister was buried in to help keep the memories of these people alive. Thousands and thousands of pictures, names, dates, and years added.
The site is now owned by Ancestry.com, which is a behemoth using this information to help with people’s searches into their backgrounds.
I will need some time to process that I found my sister’s gravestone on this site because someone is taking time (voluntarily, according to the woman’s post) to take the pictures and upload them. I have never thought to do this because when I visit my sister’s grave, I’m overwhelmed with my emotions for her. I think about how she had us with her when she picked this final resting place. She wanted her final resting place to be in the watermelon shade of the Sandia Mountains.
But she has left her permanent mark in my life and now digitally. And, of course, that is what I will always take away from her beautiful life; she made a lasting mark on every single person that she interacted with. She made it a point to leave joy and happiness everywhere she went. I found her grave, but I have also found my warm memories of her. And now that I’ve finished this post, I’m smiling instead of tearing up. Smiling at the memory of her loud laugh. At the memory of her warm embrace. At the memory of her joy.
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