My Chat Buddy

Today for work, I had to sit through the opening statements of the Dallas City Hall corruption and bribery trial. I normally don't find these things very interesting...and still don't. However, it made me miss Jason because this was exactly the sort of thing we'd love to debate. I'd say how utterly useless and stupid this trial would be, and he'd take the other side and say it's necessary to oust the idiots in power.

I miss the chats he and I used to have. We debated the stories I work on...and while at first I would get defensive about it, it grew on me...and I looked forward to telling him about the latest breast implant I was profiling...or some new way to go grocery shopping...only to hear him say how stupid it was and that I could be doing more with my time.

I also miss him chastizing me for not taking my work more serious. On a typical day, I walk into the newsroom wearing shorts, a polo, and tennis shoes. I don't dress, because I don't see the point. If there's a day when I have an important "formal" interview with someone, I will dress...but on the days when I'm logging tape or have a basic interview...I don't see what the big deal is. Jason hated the fact that I never "dressed" the professional part. Well today, he would've given me a big fat "I TOLD YOU SO". I got in trouble today for wearing shorts - because they wanted to send me to court. So my boss told me that I'm being required to dress more "professionally". Whatever. I'll be going to work tomorrow in jeans. It's fucking 104 degrees outside. I work outside for a majoring of my days (unless im inside logging and writing). I'll be damned if I'm gonna be a puddle of sweat all day. And thus why I miss my love...because he'd have some witty, shitty things to say to me.

It's just one more thing that I'll have to get used to... no more snarky comments about my work. Though, I will say - hopefully in the next few weeks...I'll be switching jobs and will have to reform and actually dress for work...tie and all. OH NO!!!

Until next time...

Stuart

June 28th

We're an hour into June 28th now. It's officially been one month since the love of my life took his last breath.

Tonight, Jason's friends (and now my friends) Jerrod and Rob and I got together for dinner and then went out for drinks. We decided we needed a night on the town to celebrate Jason and help us forget that at the stroke of midnight, it would officially be the 28th. We had a good time, and it was actually kinda nice being back out on the town.

On the drive home, though...it hit me. It's June 28th...it's already been a month. I just can't seem to wrap my mind around that. There was a moment today when I was standing in the bathroom at his house and I actually thought it might've been a bad dream. That moment passed quickly and I realized that this was my reality now. I've been trying to remember every single detail about the last few minutes of his life...though I'm sure it's probably not a good idea for me to replay that over and over. I have to though...I have to replay it over and over and over...otherwise I won't think it's real.

I just still can't believe he's gone. I still can't believe he's dead. I still can't believe that I stood next to him, holding his hand while he took his last breath. I still can't believe that I watched as the funeral home covered his body and carried him away from me. I still can't believe that I had to pick up an urn with his ashes and bury it in Boston. I still can't believe that the man I looked up to for the last two years...the man I respected and love with every fiber of my being is gone. I don't believe it. It just doesn't seem real.

Four Weeks...Plus Farrah.

Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with rectal cancer today. It's the first major cancer death since Jason passed away...four weeks ago today. The moment I heard of her death, I was transported back to 5:06am on May 28th. I was standing by Jason's bedside, holding his hand...telling him how much I love him as he took his final breath and let go.

Tonight has been a night of reflection, remembering, and reminiscing. I had dinner with the lead oncology nurse from Jason's team. She's an amazing woman who Jason and I became close friends with over the last year. She was there with us through it all and even in the end. She visited Jason at the house hours before he died. She came to the memorial service in Dallas and spoke about what an amazing patient he was...and how things on the BMT floor would never been the same without him walking through the door.

We talked a lot about the final weeks of Jason's life...how everything played out. We compared notes, talked about signs, feelings, thoughts, and wishes. She opened up to me about her feelings since Jason's death...and how his passing has hit her harder than any other patient she's ever had. Jason touched her life - and having heard everything said about him at the memorial, his impact grew. I found it funny, though, that she didn't realize how much of an impact SHE had on his life...and mine. She was our guide through this journey, and I couldn't imagine having to go through this time without her. She is truly an amazing woman.

After I left dinner, I was feeling quite unsettled. I decided to pay a visit to Founders Plaza at DFW airport. This is the spot I spoke of several blogs ago. It's the place I will go to be closer to Jason...and when I need to "see" him. It was a gorgeous night...not too hot. I sat outside on top of a table there and just cried. I cried because I miss him. I cried because I love him. I cried because I wish he would've known in life what kind of impact he had on people...rather than finding out in death. I spoke to him there and felt the warm breeze against my tears...as if it was his way of answering back. I sat there for almost two hours before it began getting crowded. So I headed for home.

I made the mistake of turning on the TV...and I began watching the Barbara Walters special on Farrah Fawcett. Ryan O'Neal...Farrah's partner of nearly 30 years...said he loved going to her house to care for her. He loved spending time with her in bed...caring for the woman he loved. She is his soulmate, and he wouldn't imagine being anywhere else but by her side. Hearing him say that made me cry again. FINALLY someone else feels the same way I do. FINALLY someone else is expressing the same feelings I had and still have. Barbara asked him if cancer had changed his life too...and he said yes, absolutely. Cancer took away his soulmate...how can he not be changed from that. He's right. Cancer took away my soulmate, and changed me forever.

On this four week anniversary...I feel like I haven't made much progress in my grief. I think I've lulled myself into thinking that I had begun to move on...that I had started to put my life back together. And then tonight...the death of a star snaps me back into reality and I realize that I'm no more closer to moving on than I was the moment Jason's died. As I write this, I still have tears streaming down my face, soaking the pillow beneath my chin. I begin to cry again every time I type the words "Jason died" or any variation thereof. I've said it and typed it countless times in these four weeks...but tonight, it seems to take on new meaning.

I'm saddened by Farrah's death, but I'm even more saddened by the fact that the brave death of this amazing woman who fought so hard to live is being overshadowed by the sudden death of Michael Jackson. So what if people expected Farrah to pass today. Her death - after fighting cancer so incredibly hard - should be hailed tonight. Except for Barbara's special, it appears her death will merely be a footnote in today's news...and that makes me cry even more.

Until next time...

Stuart

It's Happening Again

My heart hurts, and I feel sick to my stomach. It's happening again, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. For the first time through this whole thing - I'm asking WHY!? Why do things like this have to happen??

My best friend Amy caught me this afternoon and asked me to help a co-worker of hers...Eddie. Eddie was telling her that the man he'd been seeing for a while had just confessed that he had been battling lymphoma off and on for the last few years. It's back, and more aggressive...and now he's facing chemo, radiation, etc. The man with the cancer told Eddie that he was giving him an "out" and that he'd understand if he didn't want to stick around. Eddie, taking a page out of my book, told the guy he would be right by his side. However, taking a page out of Jason's book, the guy is trying to push Eddie away...cutting contact with him and not letting him in. Amy wanted me to talk with Eddie about my experiences, and we met tonight to chat.

Listening to Eddie talk took me back to a year ago. It was around this time that I started seeing my counselor and began learning how to talk to and deal with cancer patients. There's a certain way you have to talk to them, offer help to them, and even console them. I'm now offering that same advice to Eddie. But, it absolutely broke my heart to sit and hear him talking about this. It was like looking at myself a year ago. I feel so horrible for him knowing what he's about to go through. I kept telling him that I wish I could tell him to run, but even knowing what I know now...I still would've been by Jason's side every step of the way...and I hope he can be there for this guy through all of his stuff.

I assured Eddie that I'd be there for him, to help him navigate through this difficult time. I feel lucky that I've made it through all of this, and am able to talk about it so openly...enough to now help someone else. Hopefully, I'll be able to use my horrible experience to help someone make the best of their experience. My advice to him already seemed to help. He seemed much more at ease about the situation...and in the time we sat there, I coached him through a couple text messages, and like my counselor helped me - the guy opened right up to Eddie like I said he would. It was a small step...but a step nonetheless. I think Eddie was a little surprised that such a small thing could make such a big difference.

I just feel so unbelievably horrible that this is happening all over again...to another couple who is being robbed of a normal relationship. I admire Eddie, though, for being willing to stick it out. I realize now how tough I am, how tough I was...to be able to break down Jason's walls in the beginning and then to hold him up in the end. In the 4 hours I spent with Eddie tonight, I know he's tough. After all, he's a Taurus...like me. We're stubborn, hard-headed bulls.

To Eddie and David - I wish them the best of luck. I wish them peace, serenity, and hope. But most of all I wish them love. They'll need the love the most. I truly believe our love is what helped keep Jason here as long as possible. I promised Eddie that I will be here for him, to listen to him, to support him, and to help him help David.

I also had a talk with Jason tonight. I told him that this was unacceptable, and he has to stop it. I told him that he needs to make sure that Eddie and David will be taken care of...because he cannot be up there and let this happen to someone else. He's an angel up there for a reason, and he must help them out. I know he can hear me...and I know he'll listen to me. He has to.

Until next time...

Stuart

I Found Love...And Now It's Gone

I found love. I found it two years ago. I found it online...go figure. I found it in a man I least expected. I found love after searching for it for years. I found love, and now it's gone. Well, let me rephrase that. I found love, and now HE'S gone.

I just finished watching a movie that used to make me smile. It used to make me feel warm...fuzzy...and give me hope that someday I'd find true love. That movie was Sex & The City. I adored that show and movie before. While a lot of it was senseless nonsense, its underlying message that true love always prevails was exactly what I needed to see. I watched that show every night...whether I'd seen the episodes or not. Jason thought I was insane for wasting time watching something I've seen so many times. It wasn't about the show, though. It was about the message that show carried for me. Hope, faith, and love.

Since Jason's death, I haven't watched the TV show at all. I've deleted each recorded SATC show on my DVR since May 28th. I can't stand to watch it and face that message right now. That show doesn't mean anything to me anymore. Hope, faith, and love. I had all of those things and they were ripped from my tight grip...and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I loved that show because I connected with it...before. Now...I don't. Never once did they ever deal with what I've just been through...or did they?

Tonight, I decided to sit down and watch the SATC movie. I'd only seen it twice, so I figured why not. A particular scene touched a nerve. Carrie had been left at the alter by Mr. Big...and several months had gone by. She was walking through a Duane Reed store with Miranda and explained that she still didn't believe it (him dumping her on their wedding day) had happened to her. She hadn't let go of the fact that the love she cherished was ripped from her heart in the matter of an instant. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she had found the love of her life, and he was gone. She was mourning the death of love from her life. Is this so different than what I'm going through? So many of the statements she made standing in that store...I've made myself over the last three weeks.

Of course at the end of the movie, Carrie marries Mr. Big and lives happily ever after (or so we think until #2 comes out). Obviously, that's where my story takes a different turn. I won't get that happy ending with Jason. But, does that mean I'm denied a happy ending like that? For each of those women, they had one true love. If Jason was mine, at 29 years old...will I never find that again?

I had an interesting conversation on Friday with a woman who lost her husband 12 years ago to cancer. I was sharing my experiences of the last three weeks and she began to cry. I felt horrible for making her upset...but she explained that as I was talking she began to cry because she had traveled the road that I am now driving...and she felt sorry for me. She told me that even 12 years later, she still thinks of herself as married to her husband. Sure, she's moved on and is now in a new relationship...but she says her heart will always belong to her first love. She told me she felt sorry for her long-time boyfriend because he knows he'll never measure up to the man who came before him. That's a tough pill to swallow for anyone.

That got me thinking about what lies ahead in my life. It takes a special man to be able to swallow that pill. It takes a special man to know that he'll always be second-best...that he'll always play second fiddle to the man who came before him. The thought of that man made me cry. Can you imagine how hard it was for her to find someone to swallow that pill? Can you imagine how hard it will be for me to find someone like that? You might say: "Well, if she found him, so can you." Consider this: She's in a straight world...and I am not.

Many of you reading may find that comment inflammatory and upsetting, but I believe it to be true. The gay community as a whole is not one full of love. I take that back. It is full of love, love for one's self...not for a partner. I realize there are quite a few exceptions to that, but I offer you this challenge. Go to a gay bar in your area and pull 10 guys aside. Ask each one what he's looking for - love or sex. I guarantee you more than half of those men will answer sex. It's sad, but true. In the minds of many gay men...sex = love. Of the men in our informal study who said they were looking for love, I'd ask when their last relationship was...how long it lasted, and why it ended. The answer to the first part doesn't matter, but I bet the relationship only lasted a few months and ended with some form of cheating. It's sad really. It's sad that for so many gay men sex = love. So many of them won't find the truth about love until much later in their lives, and by then they've lost so much precious time to experience it.

I, on the other hand, have experienced it...and I'll never let it go. There will come a time when I have to let go of the loss I've suffered, but the love - the love I feel for Jason and the love he felt for me - will stay with me forever. However, at some point, that will provide little comfort when I'm lying in bed alone at night...longing to feel someone's arms wrapped around me. His love will provide little comfort when I long to hold a hand, kiss a mouth, or even make love. I will have to go out and find someone to make those things happen. And that's the part that scares me. It took me so long to find Jason...so many lonely nights. At least now I have him, his memory to keep me company. But, will anyone ever be good enough to share Jason's place in my heart? Will anyone even want to?

I have hope that there is someone else out there for me. I have hope that when the time is right...Jason will put that man in my life to stand in place where he can't anymore. Until then, I'll continue to comfort myself with the memories of my love, the man who - from now on - will be the measure of all men.

Until next time...

Stuart

The Empty House

Yesterday was already a pretty rough day...being the 3 week anniversary. And of course, I had to make it harder on myself by staying at Jason's house last night. See, my apartment is in Grapevine which is a 30-40 minute drive from Dallas. When I have to work out of our Dallas office, it makes life so much easier to stay at Jason's...which is 10 minutes from the office.

Anyway - yeah, probably wasn't a good idea to do that yesterday, but I got through it. I felt like I was hit by a truck as soon as I walked in the front door. The house felt so empty. The flowers which had all been there were all gone. The picture of Jason we used at the service was gone (now in Boston). And, of course...Jason's remains are now gone. I took two steps into the house and collapsed on the floor in a ball of tears. I cried for about 20 minutes straight...something I really haven't done this whole time. I think I needed that cry.

After my 20 minute bawl session, I picked myself up off the floor and walked around the house. It just seemed so lifeless...so depressing. I flipped some lights on, turned the TV on... and laid on the couch for the rest of the night. As the night went on, I became more comfortable...the house seemed to come back to life...and I felt like Jason was still there with me. I even pulled a "Jason" and fell asleep on the couch just before the news...waking up sometime after midnight.

Once again, I found that when I'm in his house, in his bed...I sleep! I wonder if it's him trying to tell me to stay there and buy the house. If that's the case, he needs to direct me where I might find the money to do that...LOL. Either way, despite the rough patch when I first got there, all-in-all it felt good to be back in the house.

Until next time...
Stuart

Three Weeks Ago

Three weeks ago today, the love of my life was gone. Three weeks ago, at 5:06am, a piece of me died. Three weeks ago, my life was turned upside down.

Three weeks ago at this time, I was watching the funeral home wheel Jason's body out of the house...covered in a green blanket. Three weeks ago at this time, I was watching the body of the man I shared my life with for the last two years...leave the house for the last time. Three weeks ago at this time, I realized I would never see that beautiful body again...or hear the beautiful voice that emitted from it.

Three weeks ago, I was telling friends, loved ones, and people I'd never met that Jason had died. Three weeks ago, I was doing something I had only dreamed of in my worst nightmare. Three weeks ago, I was in shock. Three weeks later...I still am.

It's been three weeks...and I still have trouble realizing it was real.

Something Close To Normal

It's now after midnight...which means...it's Thursday. 5 hours from now will mark the moment 3 weeks ago that my life changed forever. Three weeks. It's been THREE weeks already!? Time sure flies when you're mourning.

I went back to work today...this time for good. No more days off to deal with death...dying...or any variation thereof. No more days off to deal with giving care. It's now time to focus on work once again... and even the possibility of a job change. But more on that at a later date.

On Wednesdays, I used to meet my best friend Amy for dinner with her family. It was a weekly thing until things with Jason got too serious. Today, I restarted that weekly appointment...and it felt good. It felt good to get back to something that I enjoy doing. We had dinner, played the Wii...laughed...talked...and it was great. I almost started to feel guilty for enjoying myself so much, but then I remembered that Jason insisted that I get out and do my own thing. So I took pleasure knowing that I was having fun, and that he was happy for me. A small step in moving forward.

Anyway - that's the buzz that's all the buzz here. I can't wait to tell you all about this job possibility. But I can't yet. Hang tight. Hopefully next week...or the week after that.

Until next time...

Stu

Back To The Grind

Today's my first day back to work...I'm at work, but I don't think I'm really AT work. I'm here physically, but my mind is elsewhere. Everytime I start to actually do some work, my mind begins to wander and I catch myself drifting off into a daydream.



It feels good to be here, though...in the office. Yesterday was rough. I felt extremely lonely yesterday...and wanted to be around Jason more-so than I had since he died. That's why I went to his spot at the airport...to be closer to him. It made me feel better being there.



I also did some work for the 2009 Dallas Light The Night Walk benefitting the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Jason and I participated in this walk last year, and so it's my promise to him that I will continue to do the walk in his memory. I've become the team captain for Team Jason (click here), and I also created some Team Jason t-shirts. I ordered one shirt yesterday, just to make sure it looks good before I post the link to everyone to buy. But here's what they look like:

I'll let you know how they turn out when I get it. But, I hope you'll all either consider walking with us, or donate to the cause and help us reach our goal. We've got to raise $3,000...and I think we can double that.

Anyway - I should get back to work..and actually DO some work.

Until next time...

Stuart

His New Perch

I've just come from sitting at one of Jason's favorite places. Its the perch where he used to watch the planes take off and land at DFW Airport. I don't really know why I went there; it was as if my car just steered its way over there.

There is something calming, though, about watching the hustle and bustle of the airport traffic. Its also fun to watch the little kids whose parents bring them here to watch the planes landing. There a sort of innocence and excitement when you watch these planes from the kids eyes. There's life. There's wonder. There's awe.

Jason loved coming to this spot...or any spot where he could watch planes. He'd spend hours just watching the delicate dance of take-offs and landings. He was an avid aviation enthusiast. He knew everything about planes, flying, and even the aiports themselves. He loved to fly. That's why it was such a honor for me to accompany him on his final flight. Like his friend Jerrod said in his speech, Jason's got the best spot to watch the planes now...from right above them in the sky.

I only came to this particular spot once with him. But being there today, I felt closer to him than I have in several days. I felt like he was above me watching the same thing I was...and once again we got to share this site together. I have a feeling I'll be going back to this spot a lot.

In The Dark...Everything Lights Up

Written from bed...1:53am:

I'm starting to really hate the dark. I'm starting to hate coming to bed. Bedtime is no longer something to look forward to. Its been replaced by panic attacks, nervousness, anxiety, sadness, loneliness, emptiness, and shock. Bedtime is now the time when all the thoughts I've been suppressing throughout the day to get by...come flooding back into my head. Sometimes it happens so fast that I can keep all the thoughts straight.

After just having a small breakdown, I've come to realize that I'm not sure I've even really accepted the fact that Jason's gone! Its been more than two weeks. I've carried his ashes on a plane, and buried them in Boston. I've visited his grave, and said goodbye. How is that I haven't accepted this?

One theory swimming in my head is that I've been on "go" mode since his death...and even before. I've been "in-charge" of his care and making sure his wishes have been carried out. I've been making sure everyone else is taken care of...making sure they all "let it out" that I, myself, haven't let it out. A piece of me is wondering when is it gonna be my turn to break down. Why do I even need permission? I don't, I guess...but why do I feel like I do? Maybe I feel this way because I need permission from myself! Interesting thought, no? I think I'll delve into that one tomorrow with my therapist.

There should be a training course on how to do all of this. It reall sucks that no one can tell you definitively how to do this (though, lord knows people try).

The man I shared a bed with will no longer be coming to bed. I have to get used to sleeping alone again. I've been sleeping alone for almost 3 weeks...and before Jason...years. Why is that so hard to do now? I'm tired. I'm exhausted. Why can't I just fall asleep like I have so many other nights?

Again...like I said in my previous entry...there are no correct answers to these questions. I've said it myself....everyone grieves differently.

I just need to stop.

Until next time...
Stuart

A Goodbye...For Now

Written earlier while flying home from Boston:

I'm coming home to a Dallas that will never be the same. Jason's physical presence will never be there again. I know there will be plenty of times when I will feel his spiritual presence around me. Its just not the same...never will be again.

I've just done something most people don't have to do until much later in their lives. At 29 years old, I've just laid to rest the love of my life. I stood at his grave this morning and kissed him goodbye as I turned to leave him there for eternity. Can you even begin to imagine what that feels like? I hope that none of you ever experience it. Its the worst pain I've ever felt. Not physical pain, mind you...though there are times my chest aches when I think of the man I've lost. They say depression hurts. While I know I'm not depressed, I can tell you a loss like this does physically hurt.

So, what happens now? What happens next? Is this supposed to be the time when I lock Jason away in my heart, memories, and past? Am I supposed to begin to move on? Am I supposed to start dating again? Lord I can't even imagine what that first date is going to be like.

Man: So, tell me about your last relationship.

Me: Well, he was the love of my life and he died.

Man: Check please!

Yeah...that's gonna be a great date night conversation. Looking forward to that. Maybe I should just wear a scarlet letter. "W" for widower. Man, that'll have the superficial gays of Dallas lining up to date me!

But, maybe I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. How's about I get through mourning my loss a bit before I start thinking of how to tell my date about Jason. The very thought of going on a date in the next 6 years makes me sick- like I'm cheating. I didn't break up with anyone. I didn't go through a divorce. He died! At what point will I feel like I'm not his partner anymore? Will I always feel that tie, that bond?

So many questions...many will try to answer. But guess what. The answers will all be wrong. There is no right answer in this situation. Like that song says: Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be.

Until tomorrow...
Stuart

P.S. - Arrived home safe and sound...and extremely EXHAUSTED!

My Speech for Jason

When I sat down to write this speech, I stared at the blank page for what seemed like days. How can I put into words what someone like Jason meant to me and my life? How can I ever begin to explain the love I feel for him, and the emptiness I feel now that he’s gone?

From the moment I met Jason, I was hooked. There were so many things I fell in love with the instant I saw him. It was the way he’d look at you during conversation…I can’t tell you how many times I lost myself in his beautiful blue eyes. He was simply intoxicating. But it was his mind and his sense of humor that kept me wanting more. He could make me think, make me wonder, make me cry, and make me laugh like no one else I’d ever met. We’d spend hours – even days – debating news stories, current events, and dissecting our favorite television shows. I could talk to him for hours…and did…many nights.

I met Jason a few months after I moved back to Dallas. I wasn’t very experienced in the world of relationships, and at first Jason didn’t make things very easy. But, being the persistent person I am, he finally let his guard down and let me in. From that moment on - Jason taught me what love really means…and how true love actually feels. In our short time together, he taught me so much about myself…about life, perseverance, and about taking advantage of every opportunity. I did that with Jason…I took advantage of every opportunity to tell him how much I loved him, and how much he meant to me. The night before he died, I gave him a kiss and told him that I loved him. He opened his eyes and said I love you too. Those four words will echo in my head for the rest of my life. They were the last four words he said to me…and I can’t think of anything more perfect.

While I know Jason is physically gone from my life…I also know that spiritually, he’ll be with me in my heart forever. I have to tell you this story… Several months before he died, I had a dream about Jason – that he was cheating on me with an Acura sales –WOMAN. I woke up the next morning and told him about it…and in true Jason fashion – he never let me live it down. Every time we’d seen an Acura while driving around – he’d point at it and say “Uh oh! Look out!!! It’s an Acura!” The day after he died, every time I got on the road, there was an Acura right in front of me. It made me laugh, because I knew that was Jason sitting up there - still making fun of me. There are so many of those moments…and I hope he’ll continue to make me laugh from the other side.

Jason gave so much of himself for others...whether it was in work, dogs, or in his personal life. He was always a protector…especially when it came to his cancer. He never wanted to be seen as a “sick person.” He mustered everything he had inside him to remain strong, to continue working despite all the treatments that were thrown at him. The nurses would marvel at him. He’d come in with his laptop, sit down, stick out his arm for them to hook up his chemo…and then he’d start plugging away. He never let himself get bogged down by the treatments. When one treatment didn’t work, he’d say – “Ok, what else do you have?” He fought like I’ve never seen anyone fight before. Unfortunately, Cancer and G-d had a different plan.

Even through his pain, though, Jason always made sure others were taken care of. A month ago, Jason was hospitalized to help get his pain under control. He had been planning something for my birthday – which was at the end of that week. He was released on my birthday, and despite still being in pain – and groggy from the medicine… he insisted on continuing with the plans. It was the best birthday I’ve ever had…and I’m so lucky to have been able to spend it with him. I will cherish that day, that memory…as one of the happiest moments of my life.

He would get so uncomfortable when someone called him an inspiration…but he truly was. In the end, when things started going downhill, Jason and I had several “heart-to-hearts”. He told me he had no regrets in his life…other than the fact that he couldn’t go to Disney World again. I asked him if he was scared, and every time, he said no. His only concern was for all of us, and the pain we’d all experience after he’d gone. We talked a lot about how he wanted to go. He had a very clear picture in his mind of how he wanted it to play out, and it went exactly as he imagined. Jason was a man who usually got his way – and he did…even in the end.

At the memorial service in Dallas – it was overwhelming to see the number of people he touched throughout his time there. His parents and I received emails from all over the world – screaming accolades for the man his colleagues called a true professional. And now here, it’s evident how many more lives he touched.

It’s impossible for me to verbalize how much I will miss him. It’s been two weeks since he died, and there hasn’t been a minute, even a second that’s gone by that I haven’t thought of him. My heart aches for the love that I’ve lost, but at the same time, it continues to beat strong with the love he gave me in such a short amount of time.

Thank you, Jason. Thank you for changing me, for changing my life. Thank you for loving me, and for letting me into your heart. I love you…forever.

The Hard Part Is Over...Or Is It?

Well, the hard part is over. I think. Yesterday, we laid Jason's remains to rest at a beautiful cemetery near his parent's house. There was about 70 people or so at the graveside service. Jane and Ron (Jason's parents) had ordered a gorgeous wreath that was laid around the urn. A couple other bouquets were set around that, so the set up was really pretty. I think Jason would've approved.

It was a beautiful day - weatherwise. We couldn't have asked for a more perfect day...though a little cooler would've been nice. Those gathered were wiping tears along with sweat by the end of the service. The man leading things spoke for about 15 minutes, and then Jason's dad spoke. It was the first time he'd spoken publicly (he didn't speak at the service in Dallas), and his words spoke volumes about his pain and devastation.

After the graveside, it took a while before everyone left, and then his parents, Jerrod, and I had a private moment before we said our final goodbye. I walked up to the urn alone, got on my knees and placed my hand on the urn. I told Jason that I will love him forever, and that I will miss him forever. I said to him that I hoped he is happy with everything we've done for him over the last two weeks...and that I look forward to seeing him in my dreams. I sat up, kissed the urn and got up and walked to the car. I felt like I was standing in the background watching someone else drive away. I didn't want to leave him there. I didn't want to say goodbye.

A short drive took us back to the hotel where everyone else had gathered for the reception. Jerrod and I set up the slideshow that had been so well received in Dallas. After a while, Jane asked that I go ahead and get things started, so I did. I thanked everyone for being here to honor and remember Jason...and then I gave my speech. I'll post that in a seperate blog shortly. I barely made it through the beginning of it before I broke down. My mother, G-d love her, jumped up and stood by my side, comforting me as I worked my way down the page and onto the second. I got through it with her next to me. Jerrod spoke next - his speech that he gave in Dallas. He had a much harder time giving it this time, so like my mother, I got up and stood next to him, comforting him as he talked and cried. A couple other speakers sounded off, and I thanked everyone again for coming. An hour later, the room was empty, and that was it.

My dear friend Jenny flew in to be with me through this, and I'm so glad she did. She, Jerrod, and I sat in the hotel bar all night last night...Jerrod and I sharing our memories of the last few days of Jason's life. It was good to talk about it again. And then, as more drinks flowed, we began having a good time, laughing, poking fun at some of the interesting characters also at the bar. We ended up having a blast...and chalked it all up to Jason. We knew he designed last night for us so that we could laugh, drink, and have a good time. It's what he would've wanted.

Today, I'll be taking Jerrod to the cemetery for one last goodbye before I take him to the airport. Mom and I don't leave Boston until late tomorrow, so we'll go by the cemetery again tomorrow for our final goodbye. In the title of this blog, I say the hard part is over, or is it? That's because I think the hardest part of all of this will be leaving Boston entirely...knowing that we'll be leaving his remains behind. It'll be hard arriving back in Dallas...knowing that Jason's ashes are no longer there. He'll exist now only in my memories, and in my heart...and in the minds and hearts of everyone he touched there. That is going to be a hard pill to swallow.

I've already planned my first trip back to the Boston area. I'll be coming up here at the beginning of August to see Jane and Ron and visit the grave. I think I'll be coming up here a lot over the next year as I begin to process whats happened and come to terms with it. I'm sure there will be a lot of people who will tell me it's not a good idea to come up here all the time - that it'll keep me from moving on. To those people, I'll say what I've been saying through this mourning process... BACK OFF!

Until next time...

Stuart

The Journey Begins

Recorded earlier tonight: I'm sitting on the plane...35,000 ft above the ground. I'm here with Jasons remains and I'm listening to the "Stuart" playlist on his iPod. The first song to play "Love of my Life" by Jim Brickman. I swear to you, it was everything I had in me not to breakdown just now. Why didn't I just change the song? I want to hear each of these, word for word.

Our trip through the security checkpoint was uneventful. That's what I was most worried about. You never know what you're going to get when you go through security. Luckily, though, there were competant and understanding people there today. So other than being an hour late taking off, so far things are as planned.

I had a rough start to the day. I couldn't bring myself to leave the house with Jason at first. It took me a good 30 minutes to get in the car. Once I did, I broke down. That was the last time he would be inside that house. Once again, the feelings all came rushing back. I started replaying the minutes of his death, the last few conversations we had in that house. Going back there will never be the same. Dallas itself will never be the same for me. The lights of the city will somehow seem dimmer to me.

So, the journey to Boston is underway, with a little rocky start...but not entirely bad. The flight has been really bumpy...to the point where they can't do beverage service. Hopefully, this isn't just foreshadowing and a metaphor for how this weekend is gonna go. I guess only time will tell.

Back to the future: We are here in Hudson (Marlborough actually) and at the hotel. Another hiccup of the trip - the beautiful photo of Jason that we had at the service in Dallas... the glass broke all over my mother's suitcase. How lovely! Can anything go right?!

More to come...
Stuart

A Storm Of A Different Kind

So, here I sit inside Jason's home. Alone. Not alone. Next to the remains of the man I love. It still boggles my mind to think that this beautiful man is now a pile of ash in this gorgeous midnight blue urn. I actually kissed it this evening when I got here. Is that weird? It felt so natural...and almost like he was kissing me back.

Everything is packed up and ready for transport tomorrow. I'm extremely nervous, apprehcnsive, and anxious about the task at hand. I just want to get to the airport, and get on the plane. I think once that part is over...the rest will be easy.

The speech I wrote - that I referenced in my first post... I tried practicing it tonight for the second time. The first time, I never made it all the way through. This time...just barely. I was just telling a friend, though...that I know when the time comes, I'll have the strength to pull it off...and it'll be fabulous. But right now...it just hurts. It hurts a lot.

My friend suggested I take something personal of Jason's with me on this trip...so that way I still have a piece of him with me when I come home after the burial. I thought that was a fantastic idea. Tonight, I settled on his iPod. Jason carried this thing with him everywhere, so why not on his final flight. I'd never taken the time to look through all of the music on here, but he and I generally had the same taste in music. Tonight, though...when I plugged it in to charge, something caught my eye. There's a playlist on there called "Stuart". My heart skipped a beat when I saw this. I clicked on it, and up popped about 50 songs...all of them love songs. And, thanks to iTunes, I can see when they were all last played. May 14, 2009. Two weeks exactly before his death...and the day I returned from San Antonio. I'd like to imagine that he listened to these songs because he missed me...and now, as we take our final trip together, I will listen to it because I miss him.

I thought I did pretty good getting through his death and the days that followed. I felt like I held it together and stayed strong through all of that. Now, not so much. I feel weak. I feel drained. I feel like I'm going to break at any moment. This weekend scares me. It scares me to have a final goodbye. It scares me see his remains being put into the ground. It scares me that I'll have to fly home without him. It scares me that in a short amount of time, we'll have to sell this beautiful house and everything inside it. It'll be like Jason's dying all over again...and I'm not sure I'll be able to watch that happen. But, I will. I have to.

I don't want to go to bed tonight. I keep thinking, if I stay up...Friday won't come...and I won't have to let go. But I do have to let go. I need to let go.

It's A Twister! It's A Twister!

What an exciting night! Severe weather, damaging wind, and even what looked like a tornado! Severe storms blew through the metroplex around 7pm tonight. Being the weather junkie that I am, I watched it all blow in from my balcony. Yes, I was standing outside on my balcony snapping pictures of the clouds as the storm rolled in.

I think I even saw what might have been a tornado passing just north of my apartment complex. The chopper from my station caught it on video. Pretty cool stuff. I'm sure it'll be posted on our site - click here.

It's events like this that make me miss Jason even more than I did before. During severe weather, he and I would either watch from the window at his house, or we'd sit on the phone as it'd hit me in Grapevine and then him in Dallas. He shared my love for rain, thunder, lightning, and overall severe weather. Granted, I'm probably more obsessed with it than he was...but still fun to share that excitement. I'd like to think he was standing on that balcony with me tonight in awe of what was happening - like I was.

After the storms tonight, I spent my time doing laundry and packing for Jason's final journey home to Boston. We leave Friday afternoon. On one hand, I wish I could blink and be done with this weekend in a flash. I'm apprehensive about having that "final goodbye". I don't think I'm ready to completely let go yet...and I'm starting to feel like he's being taken from me all over again. I think this weekend might be the hardest part of this whole thing... and it's probably statements like that that are making me dread what's coming.

On the sleep front - I actually slept last night. My mind didn't race like it had other nights. But, I'm gearing up for a few more sleepless nights ahead as we get closer to Saturday. Look at me being a pessimist. LOL

Anyway, despite being nervous about Saturday...today wasn't a bad day. I heard two songs on the radio that made me sad. One was a song that I used to play for Jason, the other song's lyrics just touched me...described exactly how I've been feeling. I've probably heard that song a thousand times and never felt anything until now. Amazing how a life experience can change how music makes you feel.

More storms seem to be headed our way...lightning is increasing and radar shows another big red blog an hour outside of town. I'll most likely stay up and watch that roll through.

Until tomorrow...

Stuart

No Rest For The Mourning

A month ago, I could sleep anywhere. Just give me two or three pillows, a comfortable surface, and a blanket. Today, I can't even sleep in my own bed. I was awake until 3am this morning...or at least that's the last time I looked at the clock.

Two weeks before Jason died, I slept in his bed every night. After he died, I slept in his bed for several more days. It was comforting to lie in the same place he had laid. It was comforting to still smell his scent on the pillows - despite the fact they've been washed several times. It was comforting to be in his room, surrounded by his furniture. Five days after he died, I ventured back to my apartment - the very one I was supposed to move out of this week - and slept in my own bed...the same bed I'd slept in for at least five years. It wasn't the same, though. I couldn't sleep in it. I laid awake for hours, my mind running wild...replaying the events of the previous few days. My heart raced, I began to sweat...I couldn't catch my breath. That was a full-on panic attack...my first night back in my apartment. Welcome home.

Since then, I've traded beds back and forth. I've slept in Jason's bed some nights, and I've slept in my own other nights. If I'm at Jason's, I sleep soundly...quickly. If I'm at home, I don't sleep. Why is that? Nothing in my apartment has changed. My bed is very comfortable. It's always been welcoming to me before. So why can't I sleep in it now? Is it because I can rest easier knowing I'm surrounded by Jason's things...like there's still some part of him there? Why am I not at ease surrounded by my own things?

These are all things - questions and conundrums - that there are no manuals for. There's no one who can give me a definitive answer on these questions. I guess in the immortal words of Jason...it is what it is. But what does that mean for me and my future as I try to move forward? Will it ever get easier to sleep in my own bed? I'm sure it will. I'm sure it's just part of the process. Until that time when it gets easier, though... if you see me, please excuse the giant black circles and bags under my eyes. I don't like them any more than you do.

Today is Ash Monday

Seeing as how this is my first blog post and all, let me first explain what I'm doing here. Less than two weeks ago, the love of my life, the man of my dreams - Jason - lost his fight against stage 4 Burkitt's Lymphoma. He died on May 28, 2009, exactly one year after he was diagnosed with that horrible disease.

These are two of the last pictures taken of Jason - in his hometown of Hudson, MA during our visit in April.

So much happened between May 28, 2008 and May 28, 2009. Too much to quantify here, but there were many many chemo treatments, radiation treatments, surgeries, a stem cell transplant, and the hope of another. There were ups and downs, and many good times as well as bad. I sat by his side every step of the way...helping him through the pain, the frustration, and the shock that death was inevitable. Through all of that, nothing mattered to me but the love we felt for each other.

This is an excerpt of the speech I'll be giving in a few days: "Jason taught me what love really means…and how true love actually feels. In our short time together, he taught me so much about myself…about life, perseverance, and about taking advantage of every opportunity. I did that with Jason…I took advantage of every opportunity to tell him how much I loved him, and how much he meant to me. The night before he died, I gave him a kiss and told him that I loved him. He opened his eyes and said I love you too. Those four words will echo in my head for the rest of my life. They were the last four words he said to me…and I can’t think of anything more perfect."

I'll post the full speech after Saturday.

Jason died exactly the way he wanted. He was at home, in bed...with his parents on one side and me on the other. We held his hands, caressed him, told him we loved him and that it was ok to let go. The last words he heard were words of love. It was THE most precious and amazing moment of my life...watching him go. While I was extremely upset and saddened to say goodbye, it was at that moment that his pain, his anger toward the cancer, and the cancer itself stopped. In that one single moment in time, his spirit was released from all the horrible things he'd endured in the last year...and for the three of us standing next to him, it was an incredible sight.

In the days since his death, I, along with his parents and close friends, have had trouble coming to terms with what has happened. I've run the gambit of emotions, and probably will continue to do so over and over and over. I was happy that he went so peacefully, but I hated to say goodbye...and the selfish side of me still wishes he was here to ease MY pain. I was with him through the hardest part in his life, and now it's the hardest part in my life...and it's not fair that I can't have him to help me through this. People say to me that he is here with me. His spirit is within me now. While I do believe that's true...I tell those who say it that, at this point, it offers little comfort. I'm sure down the road when I've come to terms with losing him, I will feel comforted to know his spirit will be with me forever. But right now, I'd rather have him - all of him. I need his hugs. I need his kisses. I need his soothing voice and calming words of support.

There's been such an amazing outpouring of support for me, Jason's friends, and his parents. People have offered advice, words of wisdom, even shoulders to cry on. I can't thank everyone enough for their support. However, with offers of help and advice also comes frustration, anger, and resentment. Everyone seems to be an expert on grief and is full of advice on how I should be handling this insurmountable loss. But, what most don't realize is that grief is a very personal thing, and everyone handles it differently. What you may have felt over the death of your mother or grandmother is not the same feeling I feel for the death of my partner...a man I shared a bed with night after night. That is what I've come to resent. There is not one single way to deal with this. Every situation is unique, and until you've experienced a loss like this, don't ever assume to know how I, or anyone else should be handling it.

My therapist - who I started seeing shortly after Jason's diagnosis last year - gave me a book to read this week. It's called "I'm Grieving As Fast As I Can". It's a book written for the young widow or widower...and I'll tell you what... I identified with it COMPLETELY! I saw myself in many of the examples and stories. The author wrote that people would try to tell you how to grieve. She wrote that people would expect that you would grieve a certain way and be over your loss in a certain amount of time. One of my favorite quotes from the book: "I feel like the Great Pretender... I'm exhausted from pretending everything is ok. I feel like I'm the star of my own Broadway show." This is SO true! I truly feel like I'm having to put on an act for everyone. I feel like I have to act the way they think I should...and that I'm not allowed to show my true emotions until I'm alone. This "acting" has driven me to at least one panic attack, and several more near attacks. I want to stop acting and show how I really feel, but I'm afraid that I'm too far into this to go back.

Jason wanted to be cremated, and that process takes about two weeks. He died on a Thursday, and we held a memorial service the following Saturday here in Dallas. Jason's wishes were to have his ashes buried in his hometown of Hudson, MA...and that will be happening this Saturday. That's why I call today "Ash Monday". Today, his ashes were ready to be picked up from the funeral home. His two closest friends and I went to the funeral home this afternoon and took Jason's remains back to his house. It was the weirdest feeling...knowing that the 6', 206lb man who just weeks before was standing in front of me giving me a hug...is now a pile of ashes inside this beautiful urn. I can't seem to wrap my brain around that. I sat at the house staring at the urn. I think I was half expecting him to suddenly pop out of it...like a big joke or something. I decided I couldn't stay in that house tonight...I couldn't sit there looking at the urn...the remains of what used to be my beloved partner.

Friday, I'll be boarding a plane with the urn in hand heading for Boston. Jason loved planes and he loved to fly. It'll be bittersweet on that plane Friday. It'll be Jason's final flight...and it's like I'm completing my final act as his partner...delivering him home to his parents. Saturday will be the burial service followed by a reception and memorial where his friends and family will share stories about him. After that...I think it'll finally sink in. Jason is gone. He's not just on vacation. He won't be coming back to me. After the burial, I think I'll finally be able to FEEL what I've been wanting to feel...and I'm not going to be afraid to show it. I won't hide it like I have been. I won't let others tell me how I SHOULD be grieving, or when I should be moving on. This will be MY time to remember him, to mourn him, to release myself and finally move on.

I turned 29 years old two weeks before Jason died. Never in my worst nightmares did I ever think I'd be dealing with the death of a partner before I turned 30. Some say I was lucky because we knew it was coming. I had the chance to say goodbye. To them I question - was it really lucky to sit there and watch a loved one go through excrutiating pain, unable to move, unable to feed himself, unable to speak...only grunt? Lucky? I think not. I was only afforded an opportunity. That is not luck.

I'll be going to work for the next few days, putting on my "I'm doing ok" face. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep myself distracted long enough to get some work done. We'll see what happens, I guess.

Until next time...

Stuart