Is There Internet in Heaven?

From time to time, I wonder what happens to a blog or web journal after its creator passes away. Does it get deleted after a while due to inactivity, or will it forever be encapsulated in that web address, with its owner's last entry in full view for people to visit in 50 or 100 years? An acquaintance of mine recently joined a RIP group for one of her friends, and naturally I saw an overflow of emotion with each message: missing her and reminiscing ancient memories like yesterday. I didn't know the girl, but it seemed like she touched alot of people's lives. This got me thinking about my own cousin's death over 3 years ago, and I wandered over to her xanga. Her last post was still on Sept. 19, 2003, just as it was when I visited months ago, but still I read it. My cousin also has a memorial website with pictures and a section where you can share your memories with everyone else.

I'm sure there is some part of you stored in whatever you write, so no matter what happens to you, you are eternal as long as people keep reading your words. JK Rowling comes to mind as I write this, since she incorporated a cursed journal with the soul of its creator in the Harry Potter series. But, unlike this journal that would reply to Harry when he would ask questions, our blogs don't. But, anyway, what I'm getting at is with all the memorials sites and comments or wall postings saying "i miss you" and all, do they ever reach their intended? They are no doubt comforting to those left behind to look back on, but these weblogs and sites are deceiving. After you leave the message, something to the extent of "your message will be received the next time he/she logs on," and that's unlikely.

I wrote a letter to my cousin Melissa shortly after she died, wishing I had written it while she was still alive. I sealed it in the envelope and told my other cousin, her brother, to please put it in her casket. I wrote it to her, maybe hoping there'd be some response in the clouds or on some traffic sign, and I like to think that through some divine intervention she reintroduced some lost friends into my life shortly after, but reality is the envelope is still sealed and six feet under with no light source and no life. And no matter how many "I miss you" messages I leave on websites, they won't reply back "I miss you too." Part of me wants to believe that Melissa has internet access on a computer with no keyboard and is sitting on some cloud reading those responses without being able to type out a reply. But I guess if I were in heaven I wouldn't be spending my time on xanga, myspace, or facebook.

Sometimes I wish my late grandfather had a xanga too that I could look back on and write comments on because maybe then it'd be easier to remember him, and maybe I'd feel closer to him because I'd be reading thoughts that he himself typed into existance. I guess at the heart of it that's what weblogs are meant for-- sharing your voice, commemorating your own will. And it'd be so easily accessible, that even if you've left this world and are far out of reach, random strangers could google you up and you could have an impact on that person's day. But as expansive as the internet seems, it only goes so far as the next computer and otherwise is nonexistent. Still, as dour as all this sounds, I entertain the notion that somewhere beyond all the stars and galaxies that my departed friends and relatives know exactly when I think of them and they can hear when I call out to them.