My stepfather passed away last spring and I inherited his iPad. Since I haven’t reset the device yet, it contains Jeff’s old Facebook account, text messages, and email. It can feel awkward, like I’m walking around the house in his XXL cat t-shirt and khaki pants. But I like having a place to go where I’m not distracted by notifications on my phone.
One evening, while reading the news on my iPad, I noticed an app I hadn’t considered before: Photos. It’s been a few months since Jeff passed away, and while I was going through his Gmail and Facebook messages (nothing to write), I ignored this one. I pause for about three seconds – wondering if I should ask my mom’s permission first – then I look.
When a family member dies, surviving loved ones often rummage through boxes in the attic, looking at albums and memorabilia containing old stories; when our loved ones pass away today, they will most likely leave behind countless digital scraps: Text messages, voicemails, emails, screenshots, to-do lists , social media accounts – including hidden ones.
We want to know what others already know about their family or friends based on the digital scraps left behind after someone dies. Share with us a photo, email, Facebook message, draft Notes or other digital information you’ve discovered and let us know what it taught you. (See sample below.)
Like boxes in the attic, these digital messages contain stories we may not have known about our loved ones. After my grandfather died, my mother went through the letters he had sent home from the military during World War II, learning about his efforts to keep Kosher in the war. These letters have always been there, but now they are heavier.
However, unlike the curated albums and carefully written letters of older generations, today’s digital scraps that are left behind are often spontaneous and unedited.
Eventually, my stepfather became seriously ill and before that, he spent most of his free time in bed reading, so many of his pictures seem to have been taken lying down. Looking through his Photos app, I see a lot of foot photos. Many images look more like random screenshots than intentional ones.
Feet, feet, feet and then bounce — a series of close-ups of Jeff’s face, his head leaning against the hospital bed. Did Jeff take a selfie in the hospital? On one occasion, I swear I discovered a smile.
I keep coming back. Most of the old photos feature my mother or his cats, Basil and Oregano – Reggie for short. Aside from naming them, my mom never wanted to do much with those cats. But Jeff had his eye on her, and every time Reggie crawled onto her lap as she watched a show or read a magazine, and my mom accidentally stroked him, Jeff captured that moment.
There were also many series over the years my mother stood in the kitchen, trying on clothes. I imagine those pictures are forced, what one does to keep a partner happy. But then there are some taken at their favorite lake in Maine. My mother was sitting in the Adirondack chair, painting a scene of wildflowers, and Jeff captured her from every angle.
In another series, I discovered my boys years ago. They looked probably about 1 and 3 years old, wearing short pajamas. I can see Jeff’s belly in the pictures, the boys are playing on the floor in front of him. They looked up at Jeff, with the twinkling eyes children gave their grandparents.
The pictures give a glimpse of the moment my stepfather had with my boys without my knowledge. I was probably still in bed when it happened, sleeping through it. It made me think of all the other moments they must have shared, just them.
If you would like to participate, please fill out this form. We plan to publish a collection of responses in a future section on digital scraps left behind when someone dies. We will not publish any part of your submission without contacting you first. We may use your contact information to track you.
