Commentary: Social networks connected Granite Falls in a time of grief

Published 1:30 am Sunday, September 25, 2016

By Hailey Murphey

I found out about the crash at 9:02 a.m., when my mom first texted me:

Becca heard there was an accident in Granite involving teenager girl did you hear about that?

Instantly, I became nervous. In a town like Granite Falls, chances were I knew the girl. So I went to Google, typing in car crash granite falls. The search results came up with an article. The headline read “Woman, 19, killed in two-car crash near Granite Falls.”

I scrolled down the page, reading through the article. The article discusses how a 19-year-old girl driving a yellow Nissan on Quarry road at 3:45 a.m. took a sudden left turn, causing her car to be T-boned by a vehicle driven by a 41-year-old man. The girl died at the scene.

A pit formed in my stomach. I knew a girl who drove a yellow Nissan. Everyone knew Lorena Espindola’s yellow Nissan. She parked it a few spots away from me during our senior year. She always played her music loud. That yellow Nissan was in my driveway two weeks before. Days before the accident, in fact, we drove by each other. She didn’t see me wave.

However, I couldn’t be sure it was her in the car. The article didn’t give her name. So I turned to the picture of the car; windows shattered, on the side of the road, airbag deployed. As I studied the car, I remembered that Lorena had posted many photos of her car when she first got it. Her birthday is in November, making her one of the older students in my graduating class, and therefore one of the first to get a car in her sophomore year. I looked at those pictures for a long time when they were initially posted. So I went to Twitter, scrolling until I found the photos of the car. One photo featured a close-up of her tire. Her rims were black with a thin, red circle on the outside. It was a defining feature of her car. If the rims in the photo were black, then this was Lorena.

I went back to the other photo, and to my disappointment, the rims were black.

I continued fighting off the panic. There was still no way to know for sure. I couldn’t tell if there was a thin red line. I opened up my direct messages on Twitter and started to message Lorena — you’re okay, right? — but I never sent it. Then, as I continued to think, I realized that Lorena isn’t even 19. Her birthday is in November, and she graduated with me, meaning that she wasn’t going to be 19 for two more months. This allowed me to relax a little.

Except it was only wishful thinking. The news had spread. The first post I saw about the death was on Facebook by Madi at 9:48 a.m.

OMG. I just saw you Wednesday. You didn’t have your ticket and I got you into the fair. Damn, you and I may have not talked often but when we did you were never mean to me. Thank you for being a great friend. Rest in peace Lorena.

I spent the most of the next day laying on the couch and scrolling through social media. People were posting about Lorena all day long. Initially, I found the posts to be unbearable. Each one made me more frustrated than the last. Each picture reminded me of how beautiful she was. Each story reminded me of how funny she was. Each and every post reminded me of how many people loved her.

Dying young is unfair in itself, but when a person like Lorena is suddenly gone, you have to wonder if life is just random. She was radiant. The sheer force of her personality could lift a room. A simple look from her could make you smile. She was special, and everyone around her knew it. She was like a firecracker, like an epic summer storm, but she was also just another soul going with the flow of life and having as much fun as she could. I wasn’t even that close to her, but seeing posts about Lorena reminded me of the magnificence we lost.

Then, as the initial shock of the accident wore off, I started to seek out posts about Lorena. I wanted to be reminded of how beautiful she was, of how funny she was, and of how many people loved her because then at least I could have those memories. Instead of being a cause of frustration, those posts became a way for me to remember and honor Lorena. I am reminded of her face with each photo, of her spark with each story. Lorena deserves to be remembered, and if those who knew who are using Twitter to remember her, then I will retweet and like every single tweet I see.

People, particularly in the older generations, talk about social media like it’s ruining our society. They say that it hurts human connection because no one’s talking face to face anymore. They worry about the dangers of people on the internet. They say that it’s addicting and ruining productivity. Yet no one is really talking about how modern communication changes the face of tragedy. It’s how I heard about the car crash, how I discovered Lorena had died, how I’ve been grieving, and how I’ve started to heal.

This is stretching past my personal experience, too. The day of Lorena’s death, many people on social media were discussing the idea of community. In wake of the tragedy, my small town really came together to help one another. People offered listening ears to anyone who needed to talk. Condolences were exchanged between people who weren’t even friends. Love was spread freely, which continued in the weeks after. There’s a feeling of togetherness that is helping the entire town heal, and that would not be possible without today’s rapid-fire communication.

Additionally, a GoFundMe page raised more than $6,000 with the help of sharing, which will help take a load off of the family’s shoulders during this tough time.

One of the strongest things in this world is the power of human relationships. Love, friendship, and kindness heal unlike anything else. That’s the kind of stuff that people get out of bed for. It’s what causes our world to turn, our society to function, our lives to be lived. So if the internet is the way people spread love now, then so be it. This world is always in need of more love to be spread around.

Plus, if we immortalize Lorena Espindola in the form of 1’s and 0’s, no one can ever forget her.

Hailey Murphey is a 2016 graduate of Granite Falls High School and is attending Western Washington University. This commentary first appeared on the social media site TheOdysseyOnline.com.