The grieving process never gets easier. No matter how many times igo through it. It's always just as devastating as the first time. ijust can't imagine my life without you.
Last night, as iwas Facebooking/Pinteresting/Zappoing/Texting, inoticed you weren't charging. That's odd. ithought you were all plugged in. iwould have to roll over and investigate.
Wait a minute, you were all connected. How annoying. That damn charger must be broken. So naturally, iscreamed at the top of my lungs for husband.
My husband could tell by my octave that it was serious. itold him that your charger wasn't working and asked if he had another one. He said no. Eye roll. What about the one in your car? Can you go get it for me? This is an emergency.
ipride myself on how calm ican remain in an emergency. Even though my husband was not moving at the lightning quick pace iwould have preferred, ijust laid there and took a few deep breaths. It would be okay. It has to be okay.
iactually get out of bed and unplug and replug said chargers. Uh, oh. Nothing. WTF? istart texting even faster because ican feel our time running out. So many things are going through my head.
Thirty-eight percent? Once it drops under thirty it's practically over. I'm in full on panic mode. irun and get my lap top. igoogle it. There is no lint blocking your airway, as so many have suggested may be the case. itry everything. To no avail.
Denial. This can't be happening. iturn you off and on one last time in a valiant effort to bring you back to life. Nothing.
Airplane Mode. ineed to preserve you as long as possible. But all ican think about is everything ihave to do with you before you're gone forever. There's simply not enough time.
Thirty-one to twenty-five percent in the blink of an eye. This just isn't right. I'm not ready for this. How can this be happening? istart sending Facebook messages via my lap top to let friends and family know the end is near.
ineed to power you off until ican think. How did this happen? Everything was going fine all day. Or was it? Looking back iknew you were sick for some time now. Not holding a charge like you did when you were young and healthy. ichose to ignore the signs. ijust wasn't ready to face the itunes.
ijust don't know because ihave you powered off. ineed to power you back on and send as many messages as possible. I'm going to need my friends to get me through this. They're going to need to know the only way they can reach me is through the archaic Facebook Messenger. Or, even worse, email. It's not a text, but it will have to do.
Acceptance. The end is near. ican no longer pretend. ineed to let you go and live in the moment. iunplug you. iremove your Otterbox. There is no protecting you anymore. ihold you in my palm. iuse my thumbs to type "iluv u," one last time.
ithink back to the first time iheld you almost two years ago. ilaugh when ithink ididn't even know that Safari was the way to search the web on you. iwas so inexperienced. You taught me so much. You kept all of my secrets.
It's the middle of the night. I'm afraid to move you in your weakened state. There will be no world left for me. How am I going to live without you?
This is the last time ilook at you. idrift off to sleep with you in my arms. You're no longer warm with charge. When iwake, I'll be alone. You will be gone. I just pray that all of the important things ileft inside you are retrievable, somewhere out there, in that icloud in the sky.
ipromise to learn to better care for you next time. iknow idid the best icould with what iknew. I'm sorry iwas thirty-five when ihad you. You deserved someone younger and more tech saavy. iwill learn how to back you up. iwill learn what it means when you say you're out of storage, yet ipay twenty dollars and you're still out of storage. I'll do better next time. In your memory.
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