Published on Monday, July 8, 2013 and tagged with
riedl. Updated on Sunday, July 15, 2018.
I open my chat roster and see him. His name, his smile, his year-old status message. The presence indicator, an emblem fixed for days in unaltered yellow. Away. I donāt think XMPP has a code for āand unlikely to returnā.
I check my dayās agenda and see his shared Google calendar, filled with meetings that will be missed. Parties that will carry on, short an honored guest.
Google Drive shows me a list of documents. Some have his name under āLast Modifiedā. Or āOwnerā. Unfinished projects that will either languish or be carried on in his absence. In his memory.
Is this what grief, what remembrance, what loss looks like today? Pain, alloyed with memory of joy and fruitful collaboration, delivered via Google? The eighth layer, weeping, prodded and salted by the rest of the stack?