June is always a bit hard for me. In quick succession my father’s birthday, father’s day, and the deathdays pass. Along the way other memories flit in and out, such as the day my father went to hospice, the last time I heard him speak, and the last time he said my name. All in June.
During the final weeks and days, I would have given almost anything for one more day. Even if it was a bad one. I knew my father was in terrible pain, but I still wanted him alive. His condition and suffering was secondary to my wants. For years after the yearning was intense. The desperate feelings I had to hear his voice, call him, or laugh at his nerdy math jokes. We left his voice on the answering machine for a long time. Some days I would call and hang up after hearing the message, repeatedly. I felt it was the closest link I had.
Over time, along with various therapies and techniques, I learned how to process the enormous grief I felt. I developed ways to cope with the intensity of the emotions. The yearnings are still there, but I relate to them differently. I can transport myself to the intensity of the experience in an instant, but I know how to deal with it now. It’s all part of the grieving process, a natural part of being human.
However, now different options are available, ones that will undoubtably impact how we grieve. What that impact will be is unknown. This June marks 22 years since my father, and grandfather, died, only one day apart. Had they passed away only two years ago, I would have had a plethora of media available. Videos, digital photos, recordings, maybe even some social media postings. All of this would have provided me with more opportunities to see and hear my father posthumously. Now there are even options to create AI avatars of your loved one to continue the conversations even after they are no longer around.
I can’t help but wonder how this will affect the natural progression of grieving. My initial grief was extreme and I would have loved these AI-options. But in hindsight, I’m not sure if having it might have kept me in grief-limbo or helped me to move forward. After all, grieving is part of what makes us human.
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