lo.facciamo.insieme

When someone special dies, we lose their physical body, yes. But we lose so much more. The sound of their voice, the anticipation of meeting them for dinner, the ability to call them with a quick question, being annoyed at something they said, the struggle to find them the perfect birthday gift, the smell of their brand of soap when you hug them, the wrinkles that make up the fabric of their skin.

My dad wasn’t a big social media guy. Well, let me rephrase. He did not have his own accounts, but regularly trolled us all on my mom’s accounts. He was more of a tracker than a poster. Periodically, I’d get an invitation from him to “track my phone”. Really, dad? And then I’d let out a sigh of relief that I was not a teenager during this current time of technology. I couldn’t have gotten away with much (although it would have been easier to look up the plot of the movie I didn’t go to, so I could tell my parents what it was about when I got home from whatever nefarious thing I WAS doing).

Eventually, my dad did get an instagram account of his own. He didn’t use it a lot, but it was there. And that’s another thing you lose when someone dies. Those periodic “likes” on something you posted. I have my gripes with social media, but it’s nice knowing your people are out there. They are watching, they are possibly stalking, they are hopefully supporting, they are… alive.

But what to do with said accounts when they die? I mean, I think we are all Facebook friends with at least a couple of dead people, right? Their socials sometimes turn into de facto tribute pages, filled with once a year birthday wishes. Or sometimes people will tag their loved one in all the photos where they are missed and would normally have been. It’s sweet. It helps us hang on.

I don’t know how or why, but at some point after my dad died, my mom ended up on his instagram account. Like, she is USING his account (she has her own). It’s curious, because she didn’t have any of the actual important passwords she needed to get shit done after he was gone, but she did get on his instagram. And I only know this because one day, out of the blue, he “liked” something I had posted. These feelings ensued:

DAD!

oh yeah.

dad…….

**stomach lurches**

Since then, there have been a couple posts to his account and a periodic “like” on something I post. I didn’t say anything to my mom, and still haven’t. I have no idea why she’s doing this. Is it a mistake? Maybe to keep his spirit alive? And mom, if you’re reading this, let’s be clear: I don’t WANT to know. Please don’t ever talk to me about it. Because here’s the thing. I love it. As briefly jolting and at least slightly alarming as it was the first time, it doesn’t happen often, and when it does, I happily go into this little zone where I pretend my dad is still watching me. Participating in my life. Even tracking me, for fuck’s sake. I mean, maybe he is - somewhere out in the universe. And those periodic social media shout outs from him? They bring a comfort/longing duo that is hard to fully describe.

His user name is lo.facciamo.insieme. He was a lifetime student of the Italian language and I figured this was something meaningful to him. I never bothered to look it up. Until just this moment. The English translation is “We do it together”. And while it hurts like hell that I can’t ask him the significance of this choice (another thing lost…), at this moment, it feels a little perfect. We do this life together and when someone important leaves, we still do it together.

Thanks, mom. But please don’t ever talk to me about it. I like the magic.