You wake up. It is five in the morning. "God's sake, another day at work," you groan. You feel lonely. Kronii is not here. She is never here. Your phone reminds you that it has already been three decades. "I don't need you to tell me that." Your phone does not react to your words imbued with frustration, loneliness and longing. Why did you set a reminder? You don't really know; it's not like you had any chance to forget. Perhaps this was caring in your own way, to make sure that you wouldn't forget no matter what would happen in the days to come.
After what seems like an eternity, you finally heave your body out of bed. You were never the obessively healthy type, but even you are surprised how poorly your back has aged. If Kronii were here, she'd have no problem patching you up by just snapping her fingers. Unfortunately, that is not how it panned out. Wearily, your feet shuffle to the bathroom to take a shower. Crying isn't manly, you were led to believe, so the shower is the one place of respite for you. In the endless torrent of water, your tears make no difference. No one would hear your sniffles—not that there is anyone around who could.
Despite trying your hardest to ignore your obligations in the moment, you realize that you've still got a job to do. You don't like your job. You don't like work in general. You never did, really, but Kronii made it bearable. For her sake, you still suffer through it. She wouldn't have wanted you to follow her, just as she always told her audience not to sacrifice sleep for the sake of watching her streams live.
The shower was not very refreshing. You struggle to keep your composure but ultimately the habits formed for decades win out. The built-in auto-pilot feature of your muscle memory conveniently kicks in. You go to grab the mail. At the bottom, you find a newspaper. You ignore it. Today is that day. You always re-read the newspaper from exactly ten years ago every year on this day.
"Virtual YouTuber 'Kronii' found dead." the headline reads. It was a tragic suicide. Despite having read this article dozens of times, you still haven't memorized it. You don't want to memorize it if you're being honest with yourself. You still cling to the hope that she is still here with us all. After all, she is the incarnation of time. Concepts cannot die "[...] was found dead in her bathtub. The cause of death is currently unknown. [...] found her way to fame through [...], representing time. [...] all over the world are devastated [...]." You decide to stop reading as your phone helpfully reminds you that you're about to be late for work.

You are an undertaker. You have a thirty-year old grave to remove.