My cousin died this year. His family and mine were not close. I hadn't seen him in 30 years. Except for a Facebook Friend request that I ignored, I never would have thought about him. The Friend request survived him, and this weekend I clicked it.
And there was the wall of a dead man.
Fully two-thirds of the posthumous scribblings were from my drama co-opting sister Nadine. If pressed, I would have guessed that they didn't know one another. It is clear that I was mistaken. Indeed, she is the grieving widow, throwing her body in protest across the casket as it lowers into the ground, wailing, bargaining with the heavens "Take me, O Lord! Take me instead!"
I fired off an email to Allie. "Among your duties when I'm dead." I said, attaching a snippet from Nadine, "Is telling Facebook to take down my bloody wall."
Now imagine a dozen of those.