Obituary for a Beloved Family Member

Mom’s constant companion and lifeline to the outside world passed away.  Her 47” Samsung flat screen LED TV died a sudden and premature death last Saturday.  It was not quite 7 years old, which probably equates to middle-age in people years.  But a hard life of running for 13-hours a day, 7-days-a-week, with little respite took its toll.

In the aftermath of its demise, Mom was bereft with separation anxiety.  Not sure how to fill the hours until we could purchase a replacement, she turned to her Kindle for comfort.  But it was hard for her to concentrate without the familiar drone of Judge Judy or Drew Carey in the background.  What would she do without day dreams of becoming a millionaire with Meredith Vargas, or brain teasers with Alex Trebek, and laughing at other people’s stupidity with Tom Bergeron?  How would she cope with the empty hours without the women of the View telling her how to think or the boredom of everyday life without Law and Order to add some fictional excitement?

We transferred Mom’s smaller television from her bedroom into the living room so she wouldn’t go through withdrawal.  Then, we dipped into savings, went out on Sunday and bought a new 55” Smart TV and had it delivered the next day.  Since we were paying for the new television, we gave Mom our 2-year-old 51” LG HD TV.

When my son, Ryan, stopped by mid-week, he commented to Mom on her ‘new’ TV.  Her response was somewhat less than excited.

“I didn’t get a new TV, they did,” she said, nodding her head toward the Arizona Room where Bill and I were entertaining our 2-year-old granddaughter, Olivia.

“Well Grandma, it’s almost new,” Ryan offered.

“But they got the newer one,” she pouted.

“But this one is still way better than the one you had isn’t it?”” he asked.

“I suppose.”

“It’s bigger and the picture is clearer and you can see stuff better.  Right?”

“I guess.”

“And you didn’t have to pay for it, did you?”

“Well there is that.  But your mother says if I break this one, I have to buy the next one,” she said.

“Well I guess you better turn it off once in a while to give it a break, so that won’t happen,” he replied.

Oh, I’m not too worried about that.  I’ll probably die before I kill this one,” she responded pragmatically.

From the Arizona Room sofa, I rolled by eyes, shook my head and muttered, “A simple thank you would have sufficed.”

“Tank you, Nana,” Olivia responded.

“You’re welcome sweetie,” I said, giving her a hug.  “I needed that.”



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