Mourning Randy Pausch on the Internet
It dawned on me that I was witnessing a new form of grieving: the distributed funeral.
Why watch the service on TV when you can comment on the obituaries themselves? As my friend and Dwell magazine editor Aaron Britt put it Saturday, "the internet is an open letter to everyone," and people began using any form text box on any webpage, related or not to the Pausch family itself, to make known their sadness.
At some level, these comments are a bit crazy. It wouldn't make sense in any other context to write or say what people are writing in the comments sections of blogs across the country. You can't imagine telling someone about Randy Pausch's death and them saying to you, "I am real sorry for your loss Jai," because you are not, in fact, Jai.
But given the searchability of the internet, this behavior isn't that nuts. It doesn't actually matter what URL you put your condolences on, it's all part of Googleverse, so Jai could find it if she wanted to find it.
He also compares this phenomenon to other displays of public grieving that have had for celebrities and public figures.
The mourning also mimics the way that people experience Pausch's powerful oration. You interacted with Randy through a little box embedded in a webpage. Your headphones piped his voice clear and strong into the center of your brain, almost as if some deep part of your own mind was delivering his nuggets of wisdom. He was talking to you alone, not the hundreds packed into a theater or your family gathered around the television. In response, then, it made sense to get personal and say, directly, "Thanks, Randy. We'll miss you."
This mourning splits the difference between the small and generally private funerals of our friends and family and the public spectacles that marked the passings of Stalin, or Elvis, or Princess Di. Millions of people grieved alone in the asynchronous communities of the internet.
Still, at whatever scale and medium chosen, all these death rituals retain their universal purpose. They all provide convincing evidence that though the star may die, the universe continues. Though the Marine is gone, the corps lives on.
The news of Pausch's death brought me a moment of pause. My thoughts have been with his wife, Jai, and their three children. In May I had a brief encounter with Jai at a park near their home. My family was taking a long drive from Pennsylvania to the Outer Banks when we stopped to let the kids stretch their legs. I thought she looked familiar as our children played near one another, but my suspicions were confirmed when I heard her telling her son that 'Grandma Pausch' was on a bench nearby. We exchanged a few words about the challenges of keeping track of all your children when one needs to use the restroom. I quietly told her she was an inspiration when I thought her kids would not hear the conversation. It was nothing really, a simple moment. I do not know the Pausch family, but I guess this is my moment of public mourning. My deepest sympathy to the Pausch family. I am sorry for your loss. I am inspired by your courage.
Labels: end-of-life, grief

