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Disenfranchised Mourning, Tactile Objects, and the Inadvertent Innovation of the Pet Memorial Market
Grief does not just live in feelings. It lives in routines, objects, rooms, money, social permission, and the quiet systems that decide whose loss gets taken seriously.
Read the study:
This is where the article came from: not one neat idea, but a table full of questions.
Who owns the record of a life? Where does grief go when the archive is online? What happens when the phone becomes the grief object?
The research moved between law, memory, platform rules, AI afterlife ethics and the very ordinary reality of someone scrolling through a dead person’s messages at 2am. Not science fiction. Tuesday.
Continuing Bonds: Mom Lives in Me
Time is a strange construct, especially when it comes to the death of a loved one. It’s hard to believe that it has been four years since my mom died. Sometimes she comes to me in my dreams, but they always end up reminding me that she is dead. My brain is still trying to come to terms with the reality of her absence in my life. Lately, though, I’ve felt more connected to her, seeing how her…
Memories of Mom's Red Lipstick
When I look in the mirror, and uncap the lipstick,carefully applying the bright red to my lips,I picture my mother looking back at me.She was not one to fuss with makeup,but always applied her lipstick with care.Even as she faded with age, her lips blazed.And I, who always wore muted colored gloss if anything,now boldly wear true red in honor of my mother,shining my light for the world to see.
If I Could Dog-Ear a Day
Title inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer I’d mark the days when it was just the three of us,sitting around the glass-top table in your cozy Florida kitchen.Although one of five children,for those times, I was your only child,soaking up the sweetness of having you two all to myself.The click, click, click of the cards as we shuffled the deckfor the many games of rummy we’d play.Sharing stories…
The Seed
An Ode to My Parents The seed was planted, watered, and tended with love. With the warmth of the sun, it was allowed to grow. The sower’s voice spoke gently, encouraging it to blossom With petals full of love, stretching out to the world. It watched the gardeners’ example of gentle compassion As they walked along the flowerbeds, Treating each flower, whether thriving or dying, With dignity and…
One Day
Today I have been happy. All the day I held the memory of you, and wove Its laughter with the dancing light o' the spray, And sowed the sky with tiny clouds of love, And sent you following the white waves of sea, And crowned your head with fancies, nothing worth, Stray buds from that old dust of misery, Being glad with a new foolish quiet mirth.
So lightly I played with those dark memories, Just as a child, beneath the summer skies, Plays hour by hour with a strange shining stone, For which (he knows not) towns were fire of old, And love has been betrayed, and murder done, And great kings turned to a little bitter mould - Rupert Brooke
Episode 75: Phantasms of the Living, Messages From the Dead
Episode 75: Phantasms of the Living, Messages From the Dead
From the dawn of time there have been reports about loved ones returning from the dead for one reason or another. They come to comfort us, or seek revenge, or keep a promise. In some cases these newly spectral friends or family members, may themselves be the ones to deliver news of their demise. Seeing, hearing or feeling the presence of a recently deceased loved one is a surprisingly common…
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