Okay, so I know this isn’t the kind of thing you think about when you’re alive and thriving, sipping your cappuccino, watching Netflix, clicking “remind me tomorrow” on yet another software update.
But let’s say one day, you don’t click remind me tomorrow. You just… stop clicking altogether.
What happens to your data?
Your Gmail? Your photos? Your 37,000 unread promotional emails?
Your digital self doesn’t vanish the moment you do.
It’s kind of creepy. But also kind of important.
Digital ghosts are real. Just ask Facebook.
Meta doesn’t delete your account when you pass. It gets “memorialized.” Your friends can still post on your wall. You just won’t be liking anything back. (Dark? Yeah. Real? Also yes.)
Your profile gets a little banner that says “Remembering,” and unless you’ve left someone as your “legacy contact” (yes, that’s a real setting), no one can log in, post for you, or download your memories.
Now imagine the same concept, multiplied across dozens of platforms. Apple. Google. Dropbox. LinkedIn. That app you downloaded in 2014 that still has your selfies and ID number in the cloud.
Digital immortality… sounds cool, until it isn’t
We always talk about backing up our data in case something happens. But what about when something actually happens?
Unless you’ve planned for it, your data just… stays.
Not in a poetic way. In a “who’s paying your iCloud bill now?” way.
It gets messier if you’re a developer
Let me tell you as a dev, if I died today (don’t worry, I’m fine 😂), someone would have to:
- Figure out which GitHub repo holds what,
- Understand my naming convention (or complete lack thereof),
- Access servers, apps, codebases, credentials… and let’s be honest — no one knows that Azure DevOps password except me.
And if you’re a freelancer or indie dev? You’re basically the IT department of your afterlife. And no one’s clocking in.
So what can you do?
- Set up legacy contacts on Apple, Facebook, and Google.
- Create a digital will. Yes, it’s a thing. You can assign people to manage your online accounts.
- Use a password manager (with emergency access features).
- Talk to your family. Seriously. Even if they think you’re being dramatic.
It might feel awkward, but digital death is part of life now.
Your data is a map of your life
Photos. Videos. Emails. Tweets. Memos. Projects.
It’s your voice, your story, your youness in the cloud.
Do you want to vanish quietly?
Or hand someone the keys to the digital diary of your life?
Real talk: I’m still figuring this out too.
I recently had a moment where I realized I don’t even know the logins to half my own platforms unless I auto-fill. If something happened to me, my inbox would haunt the next person for life.
So this post isn’t just for you. It’s also a gentle nudge to Future Me: girl, leave instructions. Leave the password. Leave a note.
Because dying is hard. But making someone guess your 12-character password with uppercase, numbers, symbols, and a sprinkle of trauma?
That’s just cruel.
Tell me, have you thought about your digital afterlife? Drop your thoughts in the comments. Or better yet: go set up that legacy contact. Future you will thank you.
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Days in the Life of Mo 
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