When someone you love disappears, there’s no finality of an autopsy report or the closure of a funeral. You can piece together the mystery like in the Nancy Drew books you used to devour, but there’s no memorial service to confirm the truth. Several years ago, my mother suggested we delete my sister’s Facebook account, wondering if it was inappropriate, the way her online life is paused with her random thoughts and photos on public display. It’s like getting to know someone through glimpses in a window, but it’s better than nothing. There are screenshots of FaceTime conversations, selfies, profane jokes, a picture of her asleep with a friend’s Chihuahua.

Source: New York Times May 03, 2019 03:56 UTC