When social media wishes go wrong

My mother would have been 80 years old this week. Had she lived. It would have been a formidable occasion, which she most likely would have celebrated by hosting an over-the-top birthday party, and inviting all her friends and family.

She would have made sure that the presents she received were to her taste, and would most likely have given the ones that weren’t to her children and grandchildren. There is no doubt that her Facebook page would have been filled with birthday wishes and blessings for health and joy. And because it’s 2020, someone would have referred to COVID-19 this year, and would have hoped that she was keeping safe in these “mad times”.

Which was more or less what occurred this year. Only without the party and the gifts. What did happen was that her Facebook page, like each year since her passing, had some well-intentioned soul registering the best of wishes on her birthday along with the hope that she was safe in these all-but crazy times.

I was tempted to respond that although we cannot be absolutely certain if she is (safe), we too are hopeful that she is, and that all is well with her. Considering her lack of response to three years of well wishes, it does seem that the connectivity where she is, is spotty at best. Either that or she’s just too busy to write.

Which is probably a good sign.

The advent of social media has allowed us to interact with people (living ones) that we might not have had connection to prior to these platforms entering our lives. Facebook affords us the opportunity to keep up to date with friends who have immigrated and with family that we prefer to see on screen rather than in person. It’s magical and a privilege to live in an age where this is possible. But it also can be somewhat mortifying when we get something wrong and post it for all to see.

For three years since her passing, I have debated the best way to deal with, “Wishing you a healthy year.” I considered whether it would be worse to embarrass the wisher by pointing out the obvious, or if it was best to leave it alone until the wishers finally ran out of steam or joined her wherever she was so they could tell her in person.

I asked my morning show listeners what they would do. A number answered that Facebook has a memorial wall and we could deactivate the account. Sensible words if we had her log in details. Others suggested that I contact the well-wishers personally. But that seemed like an unnecessary re-living of a trauma from which I’m finally healing. Especially given that they clearly aren’t as close to her as they think they are. And so, like every year, I did nothing but shake my head and wonder how this happens every year.

Social media has given us many gifts. The ability to connect and to keep in touch is one of them. The ability to show we care is another. But like everything, it has a flip side, which is that our missteps – even those with the best of intentions – are glaringly showcased for all to see. At least by the living.