Life Without Texting

When I was a young girl, I begged and pleaded my mom for a phone. "But mom, everyone has a phone," I told her. She always told me that it didn 't matter what everyone else had, I was not them. That always bothered me because I obviously knew I was not them. The rule in our house was that when my siblings and I turned sixteen we would get a phone. Both my siblings already had phones, and it felt like an eternity before I would turn sixteen and receive one. On my thirteenth birthday on November 19th I was gifted the phone I wanted. I unwrapped the little pink box and inside was a blue Samsung Intensity II with a slide keyboard. At that moment, I felt as if it was the best day of my life. The rest of the party I began texting my friends …show more content…
My mom sternly told me these rules and I promised I would be able to follow them. A few months later, I began to become addicted to my phone. The only thing I wanted to do was text. I was never in the moment with my family and the situations around me. It became a real problem. My mom warned me several times that I needed to cut back on the amount of time I was spending on my phone, but I did not listen. Finally, one day my mom took away my …show more content…
It was December 7, 2013 when my mom called me to tell me grandpa was no longer with us. At that moment, I could not help but think of all of our memories together. I wondered if I had made the most of every single moment we spent together. The week was filled with tears, but also laughs as we remembered my grandpa. My family and I looked through old photos to put together for the wake and funeral. A few days later, the time came for us to say our final goodbyes. As my family and friends filed into the little church for the funeral, a feeling of peace and warmth came over me. Everyone was together and even though the outside air was cold, the inside of the church was filled with love and compassion. After the funeral, my family and I walked over to the cemetery. A blanket of freshly fallen snow covered the ground, except for the newly dug hole where my grandpa was to be laid to rest. As the priest finished the final blessing, nothing but silence filled the air. My family stood in a close little circle, and all of the grandchildren received a little yellow rose to throw on the grave. When it was my turn to throw the rose, I thought of all the memories I had with my grandpa. I proceeded to throw the rose over the dark wooden casket and that was my final goodbye. I would never get another moment with my grandpa again, and all the memories we made together