By Jeremy Bradley

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It is with great sadness I say goodbye to a dear friend. Words cannot express the nervousness and apprehension I have about doing this. But it looks like after eleven good years the end is here. 

 

You are making this extremely difficult for me to write. The mere thought of looking at you right now brings a tear to my eye. I knew this day would eventually come but I don't want to get off the couch and actually follow through.‎ I've only had to do this once before and it was hell for me. I couldn't bounce back and get a replacement like most people.

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I think back to the day I got you. I was determined to find a partner in crime. I looked around at a lot of others but stumbled upon you. Actually, that store isn't even in the mall anymore. But I was nervous and excited. It was a big step in my life. It almost felt like a new independence. And come to think of it, I probably couldn't really have afforded you, anyway.

 

We didn't have the best connection when you arrived but we worked at it. Actually it improved over time. You learned what I needed from you and you delivered. Sometimes you struggled to understand me but you made it work.

 

We've had our ups and downs. At times you've frustrated me to no end but you've also ‎got me through tough times. I worried about you when I travelled and wondered how you would manage. There was always great pressure on me but I had to think about what that impact would have meant for you. I can be pretty demanding at times.

 

I have learned so much about life because of you. Patience, frustration, fear – I've gone through them all with you. But in the end we've done it together.

 

You've been a good networking tool for me. When people saw you they often commented. In recent years maybe the talk has been about your age and your weight but I stood behind your loyalty and extoled your virtues to the skeptics. "Maybe you should put it out of its misery," one dickish reporter said to me when I talked about how I couldn't get you revved up in the morning.

 

For every book I wrote, you were there. Through hundreds of newspaper columns, you were there. The brainstorming sessions, you were there. The hundreds of celebrity interviews, you were there. Those hours of writer's block, those weekends of proofreading, you were there with me all the time. Your dedication to my craft didn't go unnoticed. I couldn't have done it without you.‎ Actually, I practically all but refused to write without you.

 

There have been late nights when I have fallen asleep with you on my lap. Feeling your warmth just made me comfortable, I guess. Maybe I had a bit of security with you right there, too.

 

There have been times when I've had to take you in to get checked out. Cost was never an issue. I would have paid anything. Sometimes they've had to go in and help you out a bit. But in the end you always pulled through and bounced right back.‎ It's unfortunate there is no coming back now.

 

Back in the day you'd have to go somewhere, check things out and see if it was a good fit – like I did. It was much more of a personal and emotional commitment. Now you can browse on the Internet and custom order. It's so impersonal. We met the old fashioned way.‎ I couldn't imagine time spent with, I guess you'd call it, the competition. There was something about you that won my heart and it will forever hold a place for you.

 

Though with age you were starting to slow. You just didn't have that oomph anymore. We both knew it was your time. It saddens me that I am the one to make the final decision and, well, as crude as it sounds, pull the plug.‎ I hope you forgive me.

 

You led a good life. Eleven years is almost unheard of for your kind. But they were eleven solid years.‎ Thank you for bringing me years of smiles and heartache. I appreciate the good times and the bad.‎ I will truly miss you. And thanks for everything.

 

‎There will never be another laptop computer like you.‎ RIP Lappy.