I saw a
news segment last week describing the latest ap available to a tech-driven, smart phone, ipad saturated
generation. This new, must have ap is
called ifidie. (Honestly, shouldn’t
it be called whenidie?). In short, this
ap allows the user to write a last
message friends and family that will be distributed to their preferred social
media site or email in a timely way, shortly after their death. I’m not
entirely sure who sends it out, perhaps St. Peter at their arrival at the
Pearly Gates, for surely no use of electronics would be permitted in paradise.
The
users of ifidie say this is the most
meaningful way to communicate with their children. How did that happen? My
mother-in-law had an expression she often used as she tried to makes sense of
the generational changes that were overtaking her genteel traditions: “I feel
like I’ve been dropped here from another planet!” I have become my mother-in-law.
I know
I probably can’t control the timing or nature of my demise, so you can bet I’ll
take charge of my last goodbye. I’m at the point in my life where hellos and
goodbyes are about even, but the time is coming when the goodbyes will begin to
dominate, until I finally reach the last goodbye. At that point there will be
no last minute reminders, apologies, or words of sentiment required. By then,
my actions will have spoken volumes.
My
children already know they are the single most meaningful accomplishment in my
life. I couldn’t be more proud of the adults they have become, armed with
enviable work ethics and a tolerance for others that serve them well in both
their casual and meaningful relationships. My husband knows that 42 years of
marriage is not an accidental milestone. If he goes before me, I won’t try
again; it would be futile to attempt to duplicate this relationship. My twin
sister has always known what I needed to
tell her, and my friends will let my life speak for itself; it’s all there. My
grandsons will come to appreciate how much I loved them from our rituals and
traditions: cooking, biking, bedtime stories, camping, swimming, and playing
games.
There is no sense letting final
words create a maudlin smear on the events themselves. I don’t want some
fleeting sentiment thrown out in cyberspace to be deleted or forgotten. I’m
living life as an epitaph that may grow shorter as it is passed to succeeding
generations, but it will never be a final goodbye. Rather, I hope it will be an
igniting spark.
