My close friend died of a sudden stroke a few months ago. He was not yet 60 and still had many things left undone. His unexpected death left friends in shock and his family in deep sorrow.
When his family began sorting through his belongings, they found his smartphone with a few percent of battery life left but locked by a password no one knows.
No one knows what was inside: unsent photos, unfinished messages, or perhaps just a brief note. Everything seemed sealed within that small device, like a black box preserving the last fragments of his life.
Later, his wife messaged me again, asking if I knew who owed or was owed money by her husband. I said I did not. If only she could unlock the phone and access his notes or messages, she might have found the answers.
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A person holds a smartphone. Photo from Pexels |
That was when I realized the smartphone has become every person’s "black box." It holds memories, emotions, habits, and private thoughts, often unknown even to loved ones. When someone dies, their digital life, locked behind a password, disappears with them.
Some believe that even in death, one deserves to keep their privacy. No one, not even family, has the right to enter that personal space, no matter how much they love or miss the deceased.
Sometimes, what remains on a phone is more than just data, it is sorrow or secrets meant only for the person who kept them. Trying to uncover what the dead "thought or did" through their phone may only deepen the pain of those who remain.
Yet others believe that unlocking a deceased person’s phone helps them stay present in some way, by allowing loved ones to revisit shared memories, read old messages, or listen again to a familiar voice.
Between these two perspectives, I cannot say which is right. But perhaps the most important thing is for the living to learn to respect both memory and boundaries.
The digital world keeps our memories alive, but it also tempts us to forget that some things are best left alone.
For example, if my friend’s wife were to search his messages for financial information and accidentally came across texts suggesting an affair, what then?
Perhaps in the future, each of us should think about our "digital legacy," leaving behind clear instructions on what should happen to our phones, accounts, or photos after we pass.
Otherwise, those we leave behind may forever struggle between remembrance and respect.
*Readers' opinions are personal and do not necessarily match VnExpress' viewpoints.