Last week when I had important document downloads and Zoom conferences lined up, our internet failed. The cable provider, Spectrum, just suddenly stopped a little after 8 am in the morning, while I was in the middle of various transactions. We were without TV, internet and phone for more than 14 hours. It was upsetting; I had deadlines. All I do everyday as executor of our son’s estate is attend to managing his affairs.
Many of these chores are time sensitive and demanding, not to mention emotionally wrenching, but these deadlines have to be met and I can’t afford interruptions. It is stressful enough already. Later that day, my husband and I sat in our kitchen over dinner and reminisced about how things were when we were young, when people used to spend their evenings relaxing, reading, playing board games — before the internet, before cell phones, even before television.
We got our first TV at our house when I was about 4 years old. I have photographs of the antenna being installed on the roof. We were among the very first families to have a TV, small and fuzzy as it was, but it was a big deal. My father, always keen on innovation and adventure, was so enthusiastic. He invited friends and neighbors over to our house to see TV shows in black-and-white, for the mere two or three hours an evening they aired.
Many years later in the 1980s, long after television had revolutionized communication and family life, I got my first personal computer. It was an IBM, the speed of which (4.77 MHz) I was sure at the time was faster than I could ever possibly think. I was writing for magazines then, and already being required to submit proposals on line. So there we went, swoosh — to dial up and digital. I even introduced my young son to the computer at that time (and he mastered the fundamentals in minutes.) Soon I was asking him for help when I got stuck, an expert consultant always available for another 40 years.
The computer revolution was explosive: in a matter of months, technology had taken over everything, including the writing program I ran in the public schools, the publishing I was involved with in the book industry, the undergrad and graduate courses in English that I taught at the university, and of course, the manner in which we had to submit grades. Lots of teachers, writers and professors my age or older were overwhelmed and decided to leave or retire rather than face the frustrations of it all, but I continued to be a vocal advocate of the new technology. It was the wave of the future and I welcomed the opportunity to educate myself for change.
I always knew that the computer would be the salvation of my generation as we aged, when we would be less mobile, less able, and more restricted to our homes. I assumed that most of our relationships with the world would depend on e-mails and virtual meetings, particularly for those of us who had long-since moved away from hometown family and friends. I fully expected that we would shop for everything on-line, research information, transact routine business, and even monitor our health with tele-med. That made me hopeful for maintaining my own independence in my “declining years.” And yes, technology has indeed proven to be a godsend.
Especially now, when in addition to that routine daily chores that don’t go away simply because one is retired, I am also the Executor of our son’s estate. Need I even mention that his ENTIRE life was digital and mostly managed on his cell phone: no paper, no bills, no checks, just digital photo transactions, a few shared Google files, and endless passwords. And now, in this complete assumption of his life, my life too has become almost totally digital.
In spite of the tears of frustration, the rantings of anger, and the endless dismay over all the rabbit holes I fall into, I have to admit that this new life of mine, buried as I am in the cyber world, also offers some consolations. First of all, I am learning new things every day, not only about computers and cell phones and tablets, but also how to navigate the digital world of various legal, financial, and investment tasks. In turn, new knowledge is enabling me to put more of my own affairs on line and in the cloud and get rid of the massive paper clutter in the house.
Digital or not, though, managing all this is a full-time job. I am so crazy busy with all that I must do that I hardly have any time at all for anything else like my art work or even writing this blog. But at least I’m at home and with a purpose which, like the days of the Covid quarantine, makes me feel free from any obligation to say “yes” when I mean “no” or to otherwise meet the expectations of others. It may be dark down here in this digital rabbit hole, but at least it’s my space and it’s quiet.
Finally, and perversely, I find being immersed in Aaron’s life satisfying, even comforting. Settling his estate is, after all, the last thing I will ever be able to do for him in this life. I understood him and his choices before; now I think I understand him a bit better, and I often feel as if I am “channeling” him while interpreting his wishes and decisions. I find myself chuckling at some of the notes he left for me, disciplined by some of the “directives” he was so adamant about, and filled with admiration at his kindness and generosity to others in his behests, including leaving an endowment in graduate architecture studies at Texas A&M.
Broken Heart Syndrome (Takotsubo) is a real thing, now recognized in the medical community. It is not just a poetic metaphor for extreme grief and heartbreak. “Social anhedonia,” which is a form of apathy and pulling away from social connections, is one of the earliest and most common symptoms of the condition. Okay, so yeah — maybe that’s me, and I make no apologies for it. I don’t want to engage with others. I have enough engagement with lawyers, accountants, bankers, investment advisors, insurance agents, realtors, business associates, and municipal agencies. I don’t have the energy for more interactions that aren’t absolutely necessary. I just want to be in myself, by myself, in some silence.
So these days being down in the digital darkness suits me just fine. I’m glad I have the skills to navigate it.
