In a poignant exploration of grief and memory, Sarah Gundle recounts her emotional journey of texting her deceased friend, Becca. Five years after Becca succumbed to stage 4 pancreatic cancer, Gundle received an unexpected message from Becca’s old phone number. This moment prompted a reflective examination of how people cope with loss and the lengths to which they go to maintain connections with those who have passed.
Unanticipated Messages and Memories
While navigating her daily routine, Gundle received a text that read, “I’m sorry, but who is this?” This message, from a new owner of Becca’s phone number, shattered the silence of grief. The two women had formed a deep bond during their college years in New York City, despite their contrasting backgrounds. Gundle, originally from Israel, and Becca, a debutante from Texas, quickly became close friends.
Their relationship was marked by shared experiences and the encouragement to take risks, like Gundle’s decision to buy a striking deep sea green handbag. Becca’s vibrant personality and zest for life inspired Gundle, making her loss all the more profound.
In the weeks following Becca’s funeral, Gundle began texting her friend, sharing everything from mundane observations to personal struggles. “I miss you,” she texted after witnessing a double rainbow, capturing a bittersweet moment that highlighted her longing for Becca’s presence. Each time she sent a message, Gundle waited for the texts to turn blue, a symbol of her hope for a reply that would never come.
Confronting Grief Through Digital Conversations
These one-sided conversations became a lifeline for Gundle, allowing her to express thoughts and feelings she struggled to share with others. Becca’s voice echoed in Gundle’s mind, providing comfort during turbulent times. “You’re still here. You’re still alive — take advantage of it,” Gundle imagined Becca would say, urging her to embrace life rather than dwell in sorrow.
However, as time passed, Gundle began to recognize that these texts had become a crutch, a way to avoid confronting her grief and moving forward. After a year of this digital dialogue, the unexpected message from the new phone number forced her to reassess her coping mechanism.
Receiving the reply, “I’m sorry for your loss, but please don’t text again,” was a jarring moment for Gundle. It encapsulated both her grief and the necessity to let go. The message served as a reminder of Becca’s spirit and her ability to recognize when something had outlived its usefulness.
In reflecting on this experience, Gundle acknowledges the importance of remembering those we have lost while also recognizing the need to continue living. She emphasizes that moving on does not mean forgetting; rather, it involves cherishing memories while embracing the present.
As Gundle continues her journey through grief, she remains grateful for the lessons learned from Becca. The shared moments, the laughter, and even the difficult conversations shape her understanding of love and loss. This narrative serves as a testament to the enduring connections that can exist beyond life, and the ways in which we find solace in our memories.
Originally published in November 2023, this reflection by Sarah Gundle, a psychologist and assistant professor at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, resonates with anyone who has grappled with the complexities of grief and the search for meaning in the aftermath of loss.