Summary

The article reflects on the profound impact of the pandemic on mourning rituals and the frequency with which individuals encounter death notifications on social media.

Abstract

The essay "I Still Type ‘Condolences’" delves into the personal and societal shifts in the way we mourn and acknowledge death due to the pandemic. It highlights the author's monthly, weekly, and daily experiences with loss as reflected in their social media feeds. The piece underscores the emotional toll of seeing constant reminders of death, the anxiety of anticipating more bad news with each post, and the struggle to find appropriate ways to react and offer condolences online. The author ponders the final moments of those who have passed, questioning whether they lived fully during the lockdown and if they were surrounded by loved ones. The article also touches on the various types of death announcements, ranging from heartfelt love letters to infuriating accounts of failed healthcare systems, and the inadequacy of reaction buttons to convey the depth of emotions felt. The essay concludes with the author's resignation to the reality of loss and the different ways of expressing condolences, while also acknowledging the fear of who might be next to succumb to the virus or other causes.

Opinions

The author expresses a sense of helplessness and emotional fatigue in the face of the relentless stream of death notifications on social media.
There is a clear frustration with the healthcare system, as some posts describe the struggle to find hospital care for loved ones.
The piece conveys a struggle to maintain emotional balance, with the author feeling anxious about each new post that might announce another loss.
The author reflects on the insufficiency of digital interactions and reactions to truly capture the empathy and sorrow felt when offering condolences online.
There is an underlying fear of mortality, both for oneself and for others, as the pandemic continues to claim lives.
The essay suggests that the pandemic has changed the nature of mourning, making it a more solitary and digital experience, which can feel impersonal and inadequate.
The author seems to grapple with the need to acknowledge and process grief in a meaningful way, despite the limitations imposed by social distancing and digital communication.

I Still Type ‘Condolences’

No one taught us how to mourn and have funerals online.

At first… It was an overseas Filipino worker It was a patient It was an old man.

I see it every month.

The death toll keeps on rising. And confined in our homes, we just saw this as a figure.

But the pandemic went on and on and unfortunately we’re still here.

The newsfeed became our daily newspaper because of the headlines…but also because of the obituaries.

And then it became… …a jeepney driver …a frontliner …my friend’s old neighbor

I see it every week.

And it’s not even COVID-19-related all the time, but for most cases, it really is the virus. But even if it’s not, it makes you think about how the last lived moments of these people were like…in a lockdown.

Did they live the most out of the past year? Were they able to keep in touch with friends? Were they with their loved ones in their last moments?

Sometimes, I don’t know what the right reaction is for these kinds of posts.

Obviously, it’s Sad. But if it was a thoughtful final love letter then it deserves a Heart, right? But sometimes you want to make the person feel comforted by a hug, would a Care reaction be enough? And sometimes, you read their horrifying experience of desperately finding a hospital that would admit their loved one. And you just want to be Angry because the system has failed us.

It was now someone from school. It was now my friend. It was now my grandmother.

I see it every day.

It reached a point where you become anxious seeing a friend’s post with a long caption and a photo of someone dear to them.

You hope and pray that it’s not another eulogy.

You are afraid to click “See More.” You don’t want to see any more of this.

Sometimes it’s just a birthday greeting.

Please, not another one.

Sometimes it’s, just a random appreciation post.

Please, please, not another one.

But more often than not, it really is goodbye.

Can I just skip these posts? Can I just copy-paste “Condolences”? Can I stop feeling this way for a moment?

But how do you stop being human?

Scrolling down the timeline to see what’s next…to find out who’s next.

It can be… It might be… It will surely be someone…

And with that I am afraid.

Condolence.

My condolences.

I am sorry for your loss.

My deepest sympathies.

Sending healing prayers.

I now know the different variations of saying “Condolences.”

But maybe…maybe

I will never learn how to say it right.

This write-up has a spoken piece version which adds value to the text by giving people an audio experience.

Andrew Beso is a Manila-based content creator who is exploring different ways of sharing art — whether it be written, spoken, and visualized. His work, aside from being in Medium, can also be seen on Youtube and Instagram. He is currently taking up a master’s in political economy and is using creative expression in discussing social issues.