Thursday, January 1, 2015

Dear Facebook,

I saw the generated post on my wall the other day "It's been a great year!  Thanks for being a part of it!"  I saw the photo that the algorithms came up with as the one to highlight my "great year"...and I pulled the drop down arrow to hide the post.

For me, Facebook, 2014 was not a great year.  It was a pretty sucky year.  I would give pretty much anything for a do-over.  The photo chosen as the cover for that generated post was the last photo I have of just me and my Dad.  I know a bunch of people liked it, which is why it was front and center on that slideshow thingy.  When I saw it, though, I started to cry.  I'm not blaming you, Facebook techie people.  I know the intention behind the post thing was to remind people of the good things that happened, the places we've been, the people we've met, the memories we have, the things that occurred in our lives, so in one sense you did accomplished your goal.

It's not your fault, Facebook, that in 2014 leukemia disrupted my family.  It's not your fault this f***ing cancer wasn't eradicated by the massive amounts of chemo my Dad was given, opening his immune system up to the infection that took hold of my Dad's lungs and wouldn't let go.  The photo's that slide through my mind when I think back to 2014 aren't on your generated post.  They are in my head, snapshots of moments when I knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again, as I watched my Dad go from strong, healthy, happy and hug-able to a resigned, defeated man who spelled out the word "torture" with his fingers, because he was on a ventilator and couldn't speak, and mouthed the words "I'm ready to die".  You don't have the pictures of the wild look on his face when the fever spiked, nor the picture of the scene of the room when the crash team came swarming into his hospital room.  You don't have a picture of the hospital chaplain who stood by my side in those moments offering a silent prayer, with her arm around my shoulders, nor of the ER doctor who rode by on his bike as I sat outside by the fountain, the day my Dad died, and gently raised his hand in greeting as our eyes met.  He knew what was happening in the room three floors up.

I'm the only one who can see that slideshow.  It reminds me daily that 2014 was not a great year.  It was a year that my family is going to take a long time to recover from.  Yes, there are some good memories in there.  Somewhere down the road I'll be able to go back, look at 2014 and find the good memories.  So, thanks for storing those memories, Facebook.  But if you don't mind, I'm just going to skip right over everyone else's "It's been a great year posts".  It just hurts too much today.