Ugh.

Yesterday HERE I stumbled upon an article about a 5-month old little girl dying of some disease, and her parents had created a "bucket list" of stuff she wanted to do before she died. I was torn between heartbreak that this little girl probably wouldn't live to see 6 months, and totally creeped out by the parents creating a blog done in their dying 5-month old's voice.

Turns out she died yesterday, and they've already gotten up a note from the girl:

If you're reading this it's because I've gone to take care of my Uncle Bryant, Nana Carolyn, Papa George, and all my great Grandparents. 

Mommy.  Daddy.  I love you every bit as much as you love me.  And while I'm not here physically, I will forever live in your minds, as you will mine.

Of course this strikes me as being horribly maudlin, but I guess this is just how some of these things are going to go as each mini-generation becomes more comfortable with creating online lives. I don't wanna be the old crank, "back in my day we had a little thing called privacy, junior!", and it's not my place to judge the parents; I'm not a parent myself, and I'm CERTAINLY not the parents of a girl who had to live through such a short life. And they did raise a bunch of money to fight the disease. But I can't look at the picture of her without thinking of what Bill Clinton said at Coretta Scott King's funeral, "Let's all remember that there is a real woman lying right there."

Ugh. Why do I let myself get sucked into this shit? I'm too damn soft. So depressing. And I'm furious I read it, like Jude the Obscure. Tonight's definitely a 2-sleeves Snackwell's night.