A few weeks ago, I received a notification on my phone alerting me that my late partner had received an email. It was from a dating app, which I had always associated with casual encounters. The message informed me that someone was attempting to access an account registered under his email. Thankfully, it also stated that no such account could be found, and if I wasn’t the one trying to log in, I could disregard it.
First, I felt relieved knowing my partner didn’t have an account on that app, especially since we had been together long before it existed. But then came the familiar sting of grief. My partner has been gone for almost three years, and reminders like these reopen old wounds.
Such incidents are not uncommon. Although my partner has passed away, his digital existence is still… well, not quite thriving, but certainly active and untouched by his death. Before the Tinder email, someone—likely a hacker—managed to gain access to his Instagram account. I changed the password and checked the account, finding no new or inappropriate posts, just old memories: joyful snapshots of game nights and moments with our kids from five years ago. Each time I revisit those images, it triggers a wave of nostalgia and sorrow.
There have been other attempts from strangers to breach his online life. I’ve been safeguarding his Steam account, a gaming platform I had never heard of until after he died. Every few months, I receive alerts about login attempts, prompting me to change the password once again. His outdated LinkedIn profile still receives job offers and interview requests, reminders of all the opportunities that slipped away with his passing.
Years ago, I memorialized his Facebook page, but the birthday notifications are a painful reminder of my loss. I remember that first year; it nearly unraveled any progress I had made in my grieving process. I didn’t need a reminder—the date was ingrained in my mind and body. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to delete his page. Memorializing it was tough enough.
Now, I periodically check his email, which I never would have done while he was alive. In the days following his death, I had to access it to manage our bills and subscriptions that were linked to his account. It was a daunting task, especially while grappling with the grief of being a young widow. Even years later, I occasionally stumble upon accounts still sending emails to him instead of me.
We had discussed our wills early in our marriage and even planned for burial plots after our first child was born, but we never delved into the logistics of death, funeral arrangements, or what life would look like for me as a widow. This oversight meant we never addressed what to do with his digital footprint.
Thus, I hold onto his Instagram account, despite the breaches, and protect his Steam profile, which contains nothing of him aside from a chosen avatar. I sift through job opportunities on LinkedIn, imagining the heights he might have reached if he were still here. Checking his email has transformed from an unthinkable action to an essential part of preserving his memory.
It would be simpler to close his accounts. His LinkedIn and Steam profiles serve little function, while his social media pages evoke heartache. His email is mostly spam mixed with reminders from vendors that haven’t updated their records. Yet, I can’t bring myself to shut them down. They are fragments of him, and since I have lost so much already, I cling to every piece with all my strength.
For more insights on navigating loss and preserving memories, check out this blog post on home insemination kits.
Search Queries:
- How to manage a deceased person’s digital accounts?
- Coping with grief after losing a partner.
- What to do with social media accounts after death?
- Preserving memories of a loved one through digital platforms.
- Steps to memorialize a loved one’s online presence.
Summary:
The author reflects on the challenges of managing their late partner’s digital life, which continues to provoke feelings of grief and nostalgia. Despite the pain these reminders bring, the author chooses to hold onto these digital fragments of their partner, finding solace in the memories they evoke.