It was almost 5:00 when she walked into the office at the funeral home, exasperated, flustered, and apologizing for not having arrived sooner. She’d been to her brother’s house, searching for paperwork she needed to bring to us, and she couldn’t get the lamp to go off. Being all tech savvy and stuff, he had connected it to Alexa. And since Alexa didn’t know who she was, Alexa adamantly refused to do as she commanded. So, the lamp stayed on.
I don’t know if she actually tried turning the switch or unplugging it. I just know after 30 minutes of futility, she had waved the white flag of surrender and left with the lamp still burning, hoping the house wouldn’t eventually do the same from an overheated bulb.
By now she may have reached a point where she can look back at that struggle and laugh, or at least smile and shake her head. Or maybe not. I just know on that day, her battle with Alexa was very real and very trying. And she’s not the only one who’s had to deal with someone else’s technology after their departure.
The convenience afforded by today’s online offerings has led many of us to become digitally dependent. All of our banking is done online. We don’t even have to go into a building or by a drive-thru to make a deposit. Just snap a picture, input a little information, and the funds are in our account. If we even received a paper check. Many companies—and the federal government—prefer to use direct deposit to save time, money, and the aggravation of missing mail. Bills are set up to be paid automatically and invoices are emailed rather than snail mailed. We log-in to check our bank balances and to review our credit card purchases. And many of us don’t even need a desktop or a laptop for any of that. We have a phone. A hand-held computer we can stick in our pocket (sometimes . . . I’ve seen some really big smartphones lately).
And it’s not just our financial lives that are so entwined with the internet. Our social lives can be equally tethered to cyberspace. Are you on Facebook? (Did you know you can actually set up a Legacy Contact on Facebook? That person will be able to manage your page but not see your messages or create new posts—after your account is memorialized—which is a whole ‘nother discussion . . . and I have majorly digressed from my original thought . . .) What about Instagram or TikTok, WhatsApp or SnapChat? And we can’t forget X (the social media app formerly known as Twitter). What happens to all of those accounts when you’re gone? Your family may want to preserve them so they can continue to access your memories and pictures that are stored there. They may also want to protect them from evildoers who would take over said accounts for their own nefarious purposes—and lock your family out completely. But guess what?
Without your passwords or passcodes, it won’t just be your death they’ll struggle with.
Several years ago, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed when I came across a post from a friend of mine. A friend who had died a few months before. “She” was advertising Louis Vuitton purses at a bargain, something she never would have done in life, much less in the afterlife. Fortunately, I knew how to get in touch with her daughter. And fortunately, her daughter knew the password for her mother’s iPad. Which then allowed her to access her mother’s Facebook account (because none of us wants to log in to every app every single time, and the makers of the technology know that. So do hackers). She could remove the post because she had that one very important piece of information.
My tip for the day? Make a folder, people. I’m gonna call mine the “If I Walk Out Into the Parking Lot and Get Hit By A Bus” folder (because that’s what I always told the funeral home employees about making notes . . . leave enough information behind so if you walk out into the parking lot and get hit by a bus, someone can pick up where you left off). Don’t put it in your computer. Don’t store it on your tablet or phone. Not unless you’re gonna give the password to the device and detailed instructions on how to find the folder to someone you trust. And make a secure backup. Mine will be typed up and printed off and safely stored in a place my chosen one(s) can access easily. But not too easily since this information will basically unlock my entire life. Either that or copied to a flash drive and handed off to the appropriate people. I’m pretty sure I’ve frustrated my family enough in my lifetime. There’s no reason that should continue after my demise.
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926 and has worked with Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 45 years. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
