Our trusty (relatively) old television set just Kurt Cobained on me. It might as well have left me with a note saying, “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.” Burn out, it did.

It was one of those last of Sony’s Trinitron line. First ones of the flatscreen CRTs. It was a real trooper – enduring long hours of broadcasts from noontime TV to primetime telenovelas, recording hours upon hours of anime, displaying more than a year’s worth of movie, TV show episodes and even brief stretches of Nintendo Wii gaming.

In terms of sentimental value, it’s packs a lot. It’s one of the first few luxury indulgences of our family after our father passed away. It’s also one of the last few items that we got to hold on to after losing almost everything when our mother died. Those are why it’s one of the few things we bothered to haul from our old residence to our current one.

I’m not all too surprised that it croaked despite being a Sony since 9 years is quite short. However, when it just blipped itself off and expelled the stench of burnt circuitry, I was quite saddened. Not much is really lost in the practical sense since I get my doses of news and shows via my computer and the Internet anyway. It’s what the TV represented that struck my soft spot.

Sure, I can always replace it with new and better-functioning LCD TVs but that TV reminded me of the toughest years of my life. There’s something really special about having something in such a part of your life that’s always dependable even if it’s just the TV. Your escape. Your opiate.

Well, it’s dead. At least it died reminding me that some things are meant to go permanently obsolete. Life goes on. With or without that TV.

Good bye, old friend.

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