With Unbearable Sadness, I Say Goodbye

First, I will start with the truth. It's been a long, haphazard haul for me and Kobo.

We came together about a year ago. At first, it was rocky. I didn't want to recognize the importance of him. He was too stubborn to accommodate all my needs, even though he reassured me he could. There were lost documents, synching issues, formatting errors and, worst of all, files he simply wouldn't read. Not to mention the communication issues. How was I supposed to understand the difference between 'sleep mode' and 'power off'?

But then we hit our stride. I changed for him. I only used RTF and EPub, made sure to charge him often, and told him on a daily basis how much easier he made my life. And, in return, he didn't fail me. He made my life easier. You see, he opened my eyes to the possibility that BETA reading didn't have to be a chore. We found a groove.

Me - sitting on the exercise bike peddling away.
Him - perched on the bike, allowing me to read as I worked.

Unfortunately, like so many great relationships in life, ours has come to an end. Too soon, really. The hardest part is that this is all out of my control now. You see, Kobo wasn't built to withstand me. I play rough. I'm clumsy. Accidents happen.

Sadly, in this day and age, there is no room for oopsies with technology.

Up until this point it has been unbearable to talk about, but today I found the courage to come here and tell you my story. And to pass along the news that Kobo is no more. We spent one last wonderful night together, cuddled up in bed, him pleasing me, and me taking what he had to offer. It got late. Maybe I was too selfish. Exhaustion crept in. My eyes closed. Safety precautions were not taken. And the light went out.

The next morning, tragedy struck.

Like the careless baboon I am, I rolled over and crawled out of bed. This is where it gets hard to recount. In the process my Neanderthalic knee crunched down on Kobo...the sound was horrifying. A gritting, crunchy, snappy sound that will be ingrained on my brain forever. Instantly, I knew.

Kobo was dead.

There were tears - mine. But I assure you, Kobo did not suffer. He was gone too quick. It was painless. I've kept his lifeless body on my night stand in hopes he'd come back to me, but I fear there are no miracles to bring him back. It is times like these that I am hit with the cold, hard reality that there really is no magic in this world. What comprises the stories I weave and read does not really exist at all.

It is time to say goodbye, though they are so hard to utter. But the healing must start.

Please do not think I will be rushing out to try and replace Kobo. At this point, I don't think he can be. No, he meant too much to me. We fought through so much together. The ups and downs will be remembered fondly. And he will be missed.

Here is where I plead you to take care of your loved one. Always remember, safety first. I would hate for something like this to happen to you.