You’re gone far too soon, though I’ve got nothing but my bumbling Barney Fifeness to blame for that.  Curse you, uncontrollable urge to keep my purse off the germy bathroom floor.  Double curse you, auto sensor sinks.  Triple curse you, heat induced delirium that prevented me from connecting the sound of water pouring down my purse with your endangered life tucked in an outside pocket.

Prayers, petitions, a sacrifice to Steve Jobs himself…my best efforts can do nothing to revive you now, my friend.

I’ve been mourning your passing, taking stock of my losses.  True, I can’t call anybody, but I don’t really use you as a phone anyway.  But my photos…my voice memos…my notes on all things big and small, and the calendar that rules my life.  How many of these are stored in a cloud?  How much data will I have to recreate?  How much is irreplaceable?  How will I ever get you back?


I’ll miss the way we finally achieved the optimum app arrangement.  Every program in a logical place, sorted into corresponding folders…a perfectly oiled machine poised beneath my fingertips.  Never going without the tools I needed.  Except for YouTube, since I never could remember where I put that one, but you always rescued me with your search feature.

How many times have I reached for you today only to relive your untimely demise? Enduring the crushing disappointment of a text that can’t be sent or a hot spot that won’t be activated.  I am like a boat adrift, moving further and further from shore, at the mercy of the wind and tides.  I close my eyes and wonder if I will ever return to this glorious land.

You will be missed, mi amigo.  You cannot be blithely replaced with another Siri, regardless of her pleasant voice and accommodating search feature.  No matter what shiny new iPhone might come my way, know that you have been a true friend indeed.  You’ve become a part of my life, and our love will never be rivaled.

Your death has not been in vain.  My next phone will be encased in steel, able to withstand my clumsy fumbling and, with luck, a nuclear blast.  I may whisper sweet words of welcome, but know that my heart will hold the memory of our time together forever.