LikeTheDew.com

I used to know the seven stages of grief … denial, anger, suspicion, it wasn’t me, etc. My wife, Rebecca, (aka “The Goddess”), reached the “You’re Making This Up, Right?” stage last night when I talked to her in Holland.

No, Aunt Weezy who lived in a mobile home park south of Midville didn’t take the canoe across the Ogeechee to her final resting place on the other side and leave her butterfly collection to Rebecca’s worthless third cousin. Rebecca’s computer died.

Had we been more attentive, we would have seen it coming. It moved slower. It was not as eager to open up our favorite websites like www.conspiracytheoriesthathauntSmyrna.com. Or www.groutmadeeasy.com. It found our Excel budgeting program distasteful, and completely rejected any attempt to feed it CD’s.

It breathed its last on Friday a week ago, just before Rebecca left for Holland. The computer’s last words, written on a black and white screen in a boring font, were “Boot failure.” It would seem the computer would have had the common decency to add, “Goodbye. I’m sorry. It’s been a blast.”

(It is at this point that I must advise you that, to preserve our friendship and mutual admiration, you are not to use the word “back-up” in my presence.)

Rebecca left. When I kissed her goodbye at the airport I whispered lovingly, “I’ll get the damn thing fixed. Don’t worry.”

A computer outfit I’ve used before announced, after examining the patient, that the hard drive was gone. I immediately went in to denial. I had been assured by several computer literate friends who were trying to cheer me up that the data could be recovered. I sided with my friends and brought its lifeless body home.

A friend who truly is a computer wizard – far more wizardy than the computer store, I hope – is making a house call today to examine the body. He exudes confidence with vague generalities, but I fear he is just doing his part to lighten the blow.

I put off giving Rebecca the latest bulletin until last night. I was gentle with her, and continued to maintain a positive outlook. It was when she heard the update that she reached the “You’re Making This Up, Right?” stage. We both choked up, sharing memories and bemoaning the fact we had not taken more pictures.

I pray for a happy ending, for my friend’s confident words of joy to be a reality. Until then, I have wrapped the computer in a pink blanket and am trying to get it to take a few bytes of software.

Think good thoughts.