One entrepreneur has started asking these questions.
In November 2015, Eugenia Kuyda's best friend Roman unexpectedly passed away.
The service instructs users on how to execute a digital will, pick music to be played at their funeral, and pre-program tweets to be sent after their deaths.
That means that five years after you die, you could send a tweet to wish your loved one happy birthday. Are tweets from the grave a modern tool for grieving or simply digital ghosts that haunt your loved ones?
Anyone could look at old texts from a friend who has passed away, but it's the interaction that's unsettling -- it feels like there's someone on the other end of the line.
The digital copy of Roman invoked a powerful response from the people closest to him.
They can respond to friend requests and even change the profile and cover photos.
Kuyda used my Twitter and Facebook accounts to create a digital version of me. But out of context, it wasn't exactly what I hoped for as a digital legacy. When I die, I don't know if I'd want to give people access to those parts of me -- unfiltered, without context, pulling from conversations meant only for one person.
If you could create a digital version of yourself to stick around long after you've died, would you want to?