Any device’s full potential may often be unlocked by having a keen eye for the hidden gems beneath the surface; the iPhone’s hidden functions are no different.
Your iPhone has many hidden treasures that are just waiting to be discovered, from iMessage features to brighten every conversation to generation-specific features that maximize the technology in any particular iPhone.
A set of volume buttons is a characteristic that is common to all iPhone models. Unlike many Android phones, which only have one volume button, the iPhone has featured two different volume buttons since its original release.
The two buttons on the left side of the iPhone are used for functions other than volume control.
Like so many other locations, the phone’s buttons can be utilized for non-volume operations in addition to a few useful chores that can be accessed with their assistance.
Whether you’re a photography enthusiast seeking tactile finesse, a safety-conscious person needing quick access to emergency services, or someone who longs to have a physical snooze button again, the iPhone’s volume buttons offer a range of interactions that go far beyond their seemingly straightforward purpose.
When you make an SOS call, your phone notifies your approved emergency contacts of your location and the circumstances using the information you provide in the Medical ID section of the Health app.
With regard to Medical ID, users can store their emergency contacts, allergies, critical medical information, and other details in this function.
In an emergency, anyone can access this information. Even if your phone is locked, the Medical ID is still accessible for first responders’ use.
Switching off the power and more
Beyond emergency services, another important feature of the iPhone could be accessed by briefly depressing the side and volume down keys.
The menu that offers access to Medical ID and the emergency call slider is where you’ll find the power-off slider. Turning off the iPhone is done by using the designated slider.
Users may also use this screen to disable the Find My function on their phone when it is in sleep mode. Just below the power-off slider, there’s a popup to turn off Find My.
Find My Device will no longer work if the device’s setting is disabled through the power off menu; you will need to restart it and enter the passcode again to locate it.
This control layer significantly improves device security by granting users control over their location data even when their phone is off.
However, this feature is more intricate than it seems. Using the volume buttons to access the power-off menu has a security risk. The power off slider displays, briefly deactivating the Face ID and Touch ID functions.
This ensures the gadget can’t be turned off and prevents someone else from being able to forcibly access it when locked.
controls for the camera
Contemporary smartphones are renowned for their capacity to swiftly and effortlessly capture moments, with the iPhone outperforming rival flagship devices in terms of camera capability.
One of the more widely known features of smartphone camera apps is the ability to use volume controls.
While some Android devices allow users to zoom in, the primary purpose of the volume keys on the iPhone is to capture images.
Instead of fumbling with the on-screen shutter button, users may snap instant images by simply pushing the volume up or down button.
This small function mimics the feel of a traditional camera, offering a cozy, tactile experience that some users might find more acceptable.
Moreover, this feature is not limited to shooting photos. To start recording a video, you can also utilize the camera app’s volume buttons.
Because it provides users with control and stability during the process, allowing them to grasp onto the device steadily and capture dynamic footage, this function is very handy for recording video material.
A video recorder’s volume buttons are helpful for purposes other than merely starting a recording. If the iPhone’s camera app is still set up to capture images, you can use either volume button to begin a quick shot movie.
Users merely need to release the button to stop recording. You may also press and hold the volume up button to switch it to “Photo Burst” in the Settings app.
The Notes app’s document scanning feature and the Camera app both utilize the volume buttons for taking photos.
When scanning a document into the iPhone, users do not have to wait for the device to properly frame the document. As an alternative, you can snap a picture of anything that’s visible in the scanner’s viewfinder by pressing either volume button.
With enough time and work, such scans can be edited to appear as precise as what the iPhone can accomplish automatically.
Alarm mechanisms
It can be a surprising habit to turn off the alarm in the morning. Apple has given its users the chance to go back in time to a simpler time when they are trying to snooze their alarm in the morning.
You can immediately stop the alarm when it goes off by using the volume up or down button. This will spare you the trouble of looking for the on-screen button and give you some alone time while you get ready for the day. This method of using the volume controls also applies to vibrating, quiet alarms.
Using the volume buttons to snooze occasionally proves to be more convenient than reaching for the snooze or smaller dismiss button first thing in the morning.
Similar to the snooze button, the volume buttons are likewise simpler to reach in the early morning mist.
Slapping the enormous snooze button on an equally gigantic alarm clock radio combo doesn’t exactly feel the same.
Remember that you must first ensure that snoozing is enabled before using the volume buttons to snooze an alarm.
If the snooze setting is not enabled for an alarm, the volume buttons will simply refuse it. The alarm is programmed to sound again at the next specified time.
Turning off phone calls and locating my
Picture this: a quiet moment or a crucial meeting cut short by a ringing phone. It doesn’t happen very infrequently. It’s simple to periodically forget to switch off your phone or even to switch it back on by accident.
The volume buttons on your iPhone soon create a barrier between you and anyone close and the ringtone you’ve selected when you receive one of these unpleasant robocalls. In far harsher situations, you can use the power button to reject or end a call.
The ringing phone can be muffled with a single press of either volume button. Using the volume button to end an unwanted call makes sense.
Controlling Find My notifications on the iPhone also heavily relies on the volume buttons.
The iPhone uses new buttons to secure your relationships and belongings in a world where those things are vital.
The position of your second Apple device can be found by pressing either volume button quickly to quickly muffle the otherwise loud warning when something close sends out a Find My notification.
As a result, receiving notifications is more manageable.
App features
Despite Apple’s best efforts to stop it, iPhone volume buttons can be utilized as tools for other app interactions.
the inventive usage of volume buttons in non-Apple apps—a feature that is usually free from Apple’s stringent constraints despite its usability.
By using this repurposing, a number of software developers have provided users with instantaneous shortcuts or actions, providing a haptic and seamless alternative to traditional on-screen taps.
One particularly straightforward approach is to utilize a counter app that allows users to tick up or down dependent on whether they use the volume up or down button.
However, employing volume buttons in non-Apple apps is a technique that should be utilized cautiously due to Apple’s app development constraints.
Maintaining a consistent user interface and preventing hardware control abuse—which can possibly mislead users or obstruct normal interactions—are given top attention in these standards.
Apple usually forbids developers from altering the functionality of hardware buttons in their apps as a result.
While some programs are able to effectively integrate volume button functionality while adhering to Apple’s standards, these instances are still quite uncommon due to the challenges these constraints pose.
Not only can developers not modify the behavior of the volume buttons, but users are also not allowed to use the volume buttons to run commands that were developed within the Shortcuts app.
But not everyone has been deterred by that. The volume buttons on your phone can theoretically be used to create shortcuts, but doing so involves using a complicated workaround function that connects an action to the volume.
Restart with force
At some time, everyone has either attempted or heard the sage advise to simply turn their device on and off again. Using the volume buttons to force an iPhone reset is a quick and simple solution in many cases.
When the device becomes unresponsive, sluggish, or has software problems, this can function as a reset to help restore it to a better state.
Users can force a restart by simultaneously pushing and holding the side button, the volume up and down buttons, and the volume down button.
The volume buttons here can be used to reach the shut-down menu, but the iPhone can also be turned off without the need for a slider by holding down the side button.
After turning off their phone, users still need to push and hold the side button down until they see the Apple logo on the screen.
Before She Died, Grandma Asked Me to Clean the Photo on Her Headstone a Year After Her Passing — I Finally Did So and Was Stunned by What I Found
“One year after I’m gone, clean my photo on my headstone. Just you. Promise me,” my grandma whispered her dying wish. A year after burying her, I approached her grave to keep my word, armed with some tools. What I found behind her weathered photo frame left me breathless.
My grandma Patricia, “Patty” to those blessed enough to know her, was my universe. The silence in her house now feels wrong, like a song missing its melody. Sometimes I catch myself reaching for the phone to call her, forgetting for a heartbeat that she’s gone. But even after her passing, Grandma had one final surprise to share… one that would change my life forever.
A woman mourning in a cemetery | Source: Pexels
“Rise and shine, sweet pea!” The memory of her voice still echoes in my mind, warm as summer sunshine. Every morning of my childhood started this way — Grandma Patty would gently brush my hair, humming old songs she claimed her mother taught her.
“My wild child,” she’d laugh, working through the tangles. “Just like I was at your age.”
“Tell me about when you were little, Grandma,” I’d beg, sitting cross-legged on her faded bathroom rug.
A grandmother braiding her granddaughter’s hair | Source: Pexels
“Well,” she’d begin, her eyes twinkling in the mirror, “I once put frogs in my teacher’s desk drawer. Can you imagine?”
“You didn’t!”
“Oh, I did! And you know what my mother said when she found out?”
“What?”
“Patricia, even the toughest hearts can be softened, even by the smallest act of kindness.”
“And?”
“I stopped catching those poor frogs again!”
An older lady with a warm smile | Source: Midjourney
Those morning rituals shaped me, her wisdom wrapped in stories and gentle touches. One morning, as she braided my hair, I noticed tears in her eyes through the mirror.
“What’s wrong, Grandma?”
She smiled that tender smile of hers, fingers never pausing in their work. “Nothing’s wrong, sweet pea. Sometimes love just spills over, like a cup full of sunshine.”
Our walks to elementary school were adventures disguised as ordinary moments. Grandma transformed every block into a new world.
Silhouette of a little girl walking on the road with her grandmother | Source: Midjourney
“Quick, Hailey!” she’d whisper, pulling me behind Mrs. Freddie’s maple tree. “The sidewalk pirates are coming!”
I’d giggle, playing along. “What do we do?”
“We say the magic words, of course.” She’d grip my hand tight. “Safety, family, love — the three words that scare away any pirate!”
One rainy morning, I noticed her limping slightly but trying to hide it. “Grandma, your knee is hurting again, isn’t it?”
A shocked little girl | Source: Midjourney
She squeezed my hand. “A little rain can’t stop our adventures, my love. Besides,” she winked, though I could see the pain in her eyes, “what’s a little discomfort compared to making memories with my favorite person in the whole wide world?”
Years later, I realized those weren’t just words. She was teaching me about courage, finding magic in mundane moments, and facing fears with family by your side.
Even during my rebellious teenage phase, when I thought I was too cool for family traditions, Grandma knew exactly how to reach me.
A frustrated teenage girl using a laptop | Source: Pexels
“So,” she said one evening when I came home late, makeup smeared from crying over my first breakup. “Would this be a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows kind of night or a secret recipe cookie dough moment?”
“Both!” I managed through tears.
She pulled me into her kitchen, the one place where every problem seemed solvable. “You know what my grandmother told me about heartbreak?”
“What?”
“She said hearts are like cookies! They might crack sometimes, but with the right ingredients and enough warmth, they always come back stronger.”
A smiling older lady holding a cup of flour | Source: Midjourney
She set down the measuring cup and took my hands in hers, flour dusting both our fingers. “But you know what she didn’t tell me? That watching your granddaughter hurt is like feeling your own heart shatter twice over. I’d take all your pain if I could, sweet pea.”
When I brought my fiancé Ronaldo home at 28, Grandma was waiting in her signature spot, knitting needles clicking like time itself was being woven.
“So,” she said, setting aside a half-finished scarf, “this is the young man who’s made my Hailey’s eyes sparkle.”
“Mrs…” Ronaldo started.
“Just Patricia,” she corrected, studying him over her reading glasses. “Or Patty, if you earn it.”
Portrait of a young man | Source: Midjourney
“Grandma, please be nice,” I pleaded.
“Hailey, dear, would you mind making us some of your grandfather’s special hot chocolate? The recipe I taught you?”
“I know what you’re doing,” I warned.
“Good!” she winked. “Then you know how important this is.”
When I left them alone to make the hot chocolate, I lingered in the kitchen, straining to hear their muffled voices from the living room.
A worried young woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
A full hour passed before I returned, finding them in what seemed like the tail end of an intense conversation. Ronaldo’s eyes were red-rimmed, and Grandma was holding his hands in hers, the way she always held mine when imparting her most important lessons.
He looked as though he’d been through an emotional marathon, but there was something else in his eyes. Fear. And joy.
“What did you two talk about?” I asked him later that night.
“I made her a promise. A sacred one.”
A young man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I understood what that conversation must have been like. Grandma was probably making sure the man I was bound to marry understood the depth of that commitment. She wasn’t just being a protective grandmother; she was passing on her legacy of fierce, intentional love.
Then one day, her diagnosis came like a thunderclap. Aggressive pancreatic cancer. Weeks, maybe months.
I spent every moment I could at the hospital, watching machines track her heartbeat like Morse code signals to heaven. She kept her humor, even then.
An older lady lying on a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
“Look at all this attention, sweet pea. If I’d known hospital food was this good, I’d have gotten sick years ago!”
“Stop it, Grandma,” I whispered, arranging her pillows. “You’re going to beat this.”
“Sweetie, some battles aren’t meant to be won. They’re meant to be understood. And accepted.”
One evening, as sunset painted her hospital room in gold, she gripped my hand with surprising strength.
“I need you to promise me something, love. Will you?” she whispered.
“Anything.”
A heartbroken young woman in a hospital ward | Source: Midjourney
“One year after I’m gone, clean my photo on the headstone. Just you. Promise me.”
“Grandma, please don’t talk like that. You’ll be around longer. I’ll not let anything happen to—”
“Promise me, sweet pea. One last adventure together.”
I nodded through tears. “I promise.”
She smiled, touching my cheek. “My brave girl. Remember, real love never ends. Even after death. It just changes shape, like light through a prism.”
She slipped away that very night, taking the colors of my world with her.
A grieving woman in a hospital ward | Source: Midjourney
I visited her grave every Sunday, rain or sunshine. Sometimes I brought flowers. Sometimes just stories. The weight of her absence felt heavier than the bouquets I carried.
“Grandma, Ronaldo and I set a date,” I told her gravestone one spring morning. “A garden wedding, like you always said would suit me. I’ll wear your pearl earrings if Mom agrees.”
“You know, last night, I’d woken up at 3 a.m., the exact time you used to bake when you couldn’t sleep. For a moment, I swore I could smell cinnamon and vanilla wafting through my apartment. I stumbled to the kitchen, half-expecting to find you there, humming and measuring ingredients by memory. But—”
A grieving woman holding a bouquet of flowers in a cemetery | Source: Freepik
“Other times, I’d sit silently, watching cardinals flit between trees, remembering how you claimed they carried messages from heaven, Grandma.
“Some days, the grief would ambush me in the most ordinary moments. Like reaching for your cookie recipe and recognizing your handwriting. Or finding one of your bobby pins behind the bathroom radiator. I’d hold it like a precious artifact from a lost civilization.
“I miss you, Grandma. I miss you so much,” I confessed, my eye fixed on her tomb. “The house still smells like your perfume. I can’t bring myself to wash your favorite sweater. Is that crazy?”
A young woman mourning before a loved one’s grave | Source: Freepik
“Yesterday, I put it on and sat in your chair, trying to feel close to you. I keep expecting to hear your key in the door, or your laugh from the garden. Mom says time helps, but every morning I wake up and have to remember all over again that you’re gone.”
A cardinal landed nearby, its red feathers bright against the gray headstone. I could almost hear Grandma’s voice: “Crazy is just another word for loving deeply, sweet pea.”
A year later, I stood before her grave, cleaning supplies in hand. It was time to fulfill my promise.
An older woman’s grave | Source: Midjourney
Armed with a screwdriver, I unscrewed the weathered brass photo frame. When I removed it, I was shaken to my core.
“Oh my God! This… this can’t be!” I gasped, leaning closer.
Behind the photo lay a note, written in Grandma’s distinctive cursive:
“My dearest sweet pea. One last treasure hunt together. Remember all those times we searched for magic in ordinary places? Here’s where you’ll discover our biggest secret. Find the hiding spot in the woods at these coordinates…”
A startled woman holding a piece of paper in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney
Beneath the note was a string of numbers and a tiny heart drawn in the corner, just like she used to sketch on all my lunch napkins.
My hands trembled as I entered the numbers into Google Maps. The location pointed to a spot in the woods nearby, where she used to take me to collect autumn leaves for her pressed flower albums.
I carefully wiped her photo, my fingers lingering on her familiar smile, before cleaning the glass and securing it back in place. The drive to the woods felt both eternal and too quick, my heart keeping time with the rhythm of the windshield wipers in the light drizzle.
A young woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
At the woods entrance, I pulled out her note one last time. There, at the bottom, in writing so small I almost missed it like she was whispering one last secret, were the words:
“Look for the survey post with the crooked cap, sweet pea. The one where we used to leave notes for the fairies.”
I remembered it instantly, a waist-high metal post we’d discovered on one of our “magical expeditions” when I was seven. She’d convinced me it was a fairy post office.
A rusty metal post in the woods | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed a small spade from my car and carefully dug the soil around the post. The metallic clank that followed sent my heart racing.
There, nestled in the dark earth like a buried star, lay a small copper box, its surface turned turquoise with age.
I lifted it as gently as if I were holding one of Grandma’s teacups, and when the lid creaked open, her familiar lavender scent wafted up with the letter inside.
An old copper box dug out from the soil | Source: Midjourney
The paper trembled in my hands as I unfolded it, her handwriting dancing across the page like a final embrace.
“My darlings,
Some truths take time to ripen, like the best fruit in the garden. Elizabeth, my precious daughter, I chose you when you were just six months old. Your tiny fingers wrapped around mine that first day at the orphanage, and in that moment, my heart grew wings. And through you, I got to choose Hailey too.
Sweet pea, I’ve carried this secret like a stone in my heart, afraid that the truth might dim the light in your eyes when you looked at me. But love isn’t in our blood… it’s in the thousand little moments we chose each other. It’s in every story, every cookie baked at midnight, every braided hair, and wiped tear.
Blood makes relatives, but choice makes family. And I chose you both, every single day of my life. If there’s any forgiveness needed, let it be for my fear of losing your love. But know this: you were never just my daughter and granddaughter. You were my heart, beating outside my chest.
All my love, always,
Grandma Patty
P.S. Sweet pea, remember what I told you about real love? It never ends… it just changes shape.”
A stunned woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
Mom was in her studio when I arrived home, paintbrush frozen mid-stroke. She read Grandma’s letter twice, tears making watercolor rivers down her cheeks.
“I found my original birth certificate when I was 23,” she confessed. “In the attic, while helping your grandma organize old papers.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Mom smiled, touching Grandma’s signature. “Because I watched her love you, Hailey. I saw how she poured every drop of herself into being your grandmother. How could biology compete with that kind of choice?”
A teary-eyed senior woman | Source: Midjourney
I gently brushed the sapphire ring from the box, one Grandma had left me along with her final letter. Outside, a cardinal landed on the windowsill, bright as a flame against the evening sky.
“She chose us,” I whispered.
Mom nodded. “Every single day.”
Now, years later, I still catch glimpses of Grandma everywhere. In the way I fold towels into perfect thirds, just as she taught me. In how I unconsciously hum her favorite songs while gardening. And in the little phrases I say to my children.
Portrait of a smiling older lady | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes, when I’m baking late at night, I feel her presence so strongly I have to turn around, half-expecting to see her sitting at the kitchen table, reading glasses perched on her nose, completing her crossword puzzle.
The empty chair still catches me off guard, but now it carries a different kind of ache — not just loss, but gratitude. Gratitude for every moment, every lesson, and every story she shared.
Because Grandma Patty didn’t just teach me about family… she showed me how to build one, how to choose one, and how to love one deeply enough that it transcends everything, even death itself.
An empty armchair in a room | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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