Computer death

Howard, my computer died (yes, they have names). Really seriously dead. Wouldn't even turn on.

I wasn't really devoted to that computer. It was purchased in an emergent situation 6 years ago when I sustained an almost direct lightning strike. And yes, I had the correct safety equipment, the strike was so close it blew up my modem and entered the computer. My techno-geek friend said he hadn't ever seen a computer so thoroughly trashed. So it was an emergency purchase of a polite little machine which was running the dreaded V operating system that was on PC's of that time. And it had faked its own death about 18 months ago and had been resuscitated. Having learned my lesson many years ago, I didn't even save documents and materials to my computer. Everything went to an external hard drive which was backed up to another remote drive once a month. So nothing except programs lived on the computers drive.

But still. Even when you are expecting a death, it is hard to deal with. Even when you have planned for it, anticipated it, the mere fact that something you depended on is no longer there, creates an awkward void that has to be handled. So in the short term, I rigged a netbook portable (affectionately named Mike, yes, pretty much everything has a name) to my monitor and worked on those machines. My Ipad (St. Paddy) was also integral to getting me through the transition. But even with that, there was a cavern where the old PC had been. Many things which were quickly dispatched with, were a little more tricky.

That's how it is. Things, and more importantly people, that occupy our lives leave a void. When they are away and when they are gone. Sometimes those empty spaces are great reminders of the joy and pleasure brought to us, and other times those spaces are dark reminders of something, someone who won't be with us any longer.

Both of those places are thin.