If you’ve read my first blog, I may have said something about my posts being like a conversation among friends after a margarita or two. Well, after all, I am going on my seventh blog, so let’s have one on the rocks and get straight to it.
There are some FB posts that just leave me pondering human behavior. If you can relate to any of these, drop me a line – misery loves company. If you think I’m totally insensitive, we can discuss that too. Preferably with chips and queso.
There’s just something about the “Happy heavenly birthday” posts on FB, that have me shaking my head. First of all, you already said “heavenly birthday,” so their current celestial status is well established. Then to remove any shred of doubt, you tack on: “To my mother in heaven.” Got it. Noted. She’s not checking notifications up there.
Now, before you all pounce on me, I totally understand celebrating milestones online. I get the posts saying, “Happy birthday to my 1-year-old,” who obviously isn’t scrolling through FB like a tiny influencer – yet. It’s just a sweet way of sharing joy with friends and family. But publicly wishing someone who’s no longer checking notifications from this realm, a birthday shout out on social media? That one baffles me.
Let’s just admit it, 99.99% of the reason it’s posted is because deep down, people have a need to hear the responses. “I’m so sorry. She was one of a kind. I miss her too. Her meatloaf was second to none. The comments roll in, validating grief, offering comfort, and letting the author soak up a little extra emotional support. Sometimes people need that.
Do I remember my mother on her birthday or the anniversary of her death? You bet I do. Do I talk to her? Of course. But do I need a digital audience for it? Nope. Some things are sacred without the need for likes, comments, or heartfelt emoji reactions. I only hope those who post “Happy heavenly birthday” also whisper it when no one’s scrolling.
That said, if posting a birthday message to your loved one brings you comfort, I fully respect that. This is just one of those little quirks that gets under my skin for no real reason other than, well, it’s just me. My problem. My pet peeve.
While there are several more FB quirks I could lovingly dissect, I’ll save those gems for another day. For now, I’ll end with this one. It really doesn’t annoy me as much as it just makes me tilt my head and wonder if we’re all being honest with ourselves. Maybe a part of me even wants to call people out on it. Shame on me for thinking that.
Let’s talk about one of those classic phrases that we all use without thinking. We see it every day while scrolling social media: “My thoughts and prayers are with you.” It does have a lovely sentiment to it. It’s heartfelt, kind, and most of the time, it’s what pops out because we don’t know what else to say when we’ve read sad news.
This is what I’m always left wondering. Did the person commenting really pause for a second and send up a prayer? Or was it just an autopilot response – typed and sent, and then promptly forgotten? I mean, I get it, life moves fast and sometimes words are all we have. But for me, this phrase feels too easy, too routine, too cliché.
If I tell someone “I’m offering up a prayer for you,” (and I intentionally phrase it differently than the cliché version), you can bet that in that moment, I stopped what I was doing, closed my eyes, and sent up an actual request for peace, comfort or strength for that person. Maybe lingered a little longer because well, if I’m saying it, I want to mean it. And if I don’t do it now, I’ll forget.
I’m not here to police anyone’s well-meaning condolences. If “thoughts and prayers” brings comfort, then by all means, use it! But, if reading this makes even one person stop for an extra second before saying the phrase, if it leads them to actually offer up a prayer instead of just typing words, then mission accomplished. Keep saying it…just follow through with the action behind the words. And think of me…you’re welcome!
Time to grab your favorite cocktail and raise your glass in a toast: “Here’s to the happy heavenly birthday posts fishing for sympathy in familiar Facebook waters. May your dearly departed raise a heavenly cocktail and toast you from the pearly bar, whispering, “I felt the love, sweetie, even without the comment thread.” And to those thoughts and prayers? Remember, they only count if you actually say one. Amen, and Cheers!”
