Huffington Magazine Issue 32 | Page 66

HUFFINGTON 01.20.13 THE VIRTUAL CEMETERY leave ‘happy birthday’ messages. I would send them his obit notice,” says Podell, who was with Herr for 34 years. “I don’t know how real [Facebook] is. How much do you know about a person? Ultimately, it can be silly because you don’t.” She looks at his Facebook wall about once a month. She reads through the messages friends leave for him — and still notifies the occasional visitor who thinks he’s alive. But she keeps her deepest thoughts about him private. “I see people whose husbands are ill and the wives are playing out the whole scenario online. I just think you can overshare things sometimes. People’s lives, maybe their deaths, shouldn’t play out like that,” Podell says. “But on the other hand, I think, who will be remembered? A couple of presidents. Some poets. And who will remember you? Kids if you are just a normal schmoe. And if you’re lucky enough to see them, grandchildren. But that’s it.” Podell says she has “a million memories” of her husband around her apartment. She can see his photos and his old letters anytime. Their daughter is 24, and they reminisce over the good times: Herr’s obsession with red wine (he ran a wine blog), his 80-person Thanksgiving parties and his painstakingly cultivated backyard garden. But Podell finds herself going back to Facebook. She looks over Herr’s old Facebook photos, like the black-andwhite one of him dipping his daughter on the dancefloor, and the one of him smiling, running his fingers through his hair while driving on a racetrack, one of his favorite hobbies. Known for his spontaneity, he once took her hand and serenaded her as they danced along a street during a visit to Los Angeles. A friend had snapped a photo and Podell recently made that her Facebook profile picture. When she dies, she’s not sure if she wants the same kind of activity on her own Facebook. But as much as it irks her to see some people pretend to know her husband when they didn’t, remembrances posted by others have touched her heart. “Maybe it’s a way of pretending he is there on some level. It’s weird, I don’t even know what my own motives are,” she said. “My father died when I was 17. The way we kept him alive was talking about him all the time. But there comes a point when that stops, and I think that it doesn’t stop on Facebook. It just keeps going.”