Last night, my mother told me she felt like she had to walk on eggshells around me. She said that I've been distant...cold...and rude. She said she just wants to know that I'm ok...to which I replied "I'm not ok, and I'm being distant because I'm trying figure out and rediscover myself...who I am without Jason." I told her that I may seem cold and rude simply because she asks too many damn fucking questions and I don't feel like answering them.
I wonder now, though, if others feel like they're having to walk on eggshells when they're around me or talking to me. I sincerely hope not. If that's the case then I need a serious readjustment. But, if people won't say anything to me...or are afraid to...how can I change?
I told my mom that she's just going to have to be patient with me. I said its not everyday you lose someone who you shared a bed with...who you cared for over the course of a year. Once again, I found myself having to justify my feelings...my grief....and I don't like having to do that time and time again. I'll withdraw from everyone if I have to to get some fucking peace and quiet! What part of "I JUST WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE" don't people understand?
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
No Cry Day
Today's the first day in more than a week that I haven't felt like I was on the verge of tears all day. There've been a few moments when I thought I could cry, but none that have left me scrambling for a tissue.
I reconnected with a woman I did a story on last year around this time. Her name is Jocelyn and she lost her husband, Brian, in the war in Iraq. She's 28 years old now and has been a widow for several years already. I remember thinking to myself a year ago when I interviewed her that I'd never be able to understand what she's been through. How things can change in a year. While I didn't lose my love on a battlefield in a foreign country, I did lose him on the battlefield of science and medicine. He died fighting an enemy just as evil as the insurgents in Iraq.
Other than the way they died, there is one profound difference in the deaths of these two great men. I was able to be there by Jason's bedside when he took his final breath. I was able to shower him with love, affection, and assurance that we would all be ok after he'd gone. Jocelyn wasn't given that opportunity. She didn't find out about Brian's death until many hours after it had happened. But I question whether I got the better side of that or not. Is it better to have been there, to have witnessed it? I sent her an email this afternoon to ask her that question. I'm very interested to hear her point of view.
Here's the story I produced about her and the group she helped start. It's called The American Widow Project. They are our country's forgotten heroes...fighting the war on terror from home.
In other non-related news...it looks like my brother and I will be co-owners of a new (to us) boat! We'll be taking it for the weekend to try it out and see how we like it. If all goes well, we'll be boat owners by Monday! I'm extremely excited about this, and very much looking forward to some awesome times on the lake for the rest of the summer.
Until next time...
Stuart
I reconnected with a woman I did a story on last year around this time. Her name is Jocelyn and she lost her husband, Brian, in the war in Iraq. She's 28 years old now and has been a widow for several years already. I remember thinking to myself a year ago when I interviewed her that I'd never be able to understand what she's been through. How things can change in a year. While I didn't lose my love on a battlefield in a foreign country, I did lose him on the battlefield of science and medicine. He died fighting an enemy just as evil as the insurgents in Iraq.
Other than the way they died, there is one profound difference in the deaths of these two great men. I was able to be there by Jason's bedside when he took his final breath. I was able to shower him with love, affection, and assurance that we would all be ok after he'd gone. Jocelyn wasn't given that opportunity. She didn't find out about Brian's death until many hours after it had happened. But I question whether I got the better side of that or not. Is it better to have been there, to have witnessed it? I sent her an email this afternoon to ask her that question. I'm very interested to hear her point of view.
Here's the story I produced about her and the group she helped start. It's called The American Widow Project. They are our country's forgotten heroes...fighting the war on terror from home.
In other non-related news...it looks like my brother and I will be co-owners of a new (to us) boat! We'll be taking it for the weekend to try it out and see how we like it. If all goes well, we'll be boat owners by Monday! I'm extremely excited about this, and very much looking forward to some awesome times on the lake for the rest of the summer.
Until next time...
Stuart
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Crying Helps
When I got into bed last night, I began to cry. I cried harder and harder until I was in full bawl mode. I cried for about 30 minutes straight...only taking breaks to blow my nose. The words I wrote in my last blog struck a nerve, I think. The last part...about being happy.
I think I got scared last night that I might never be happy again. Not like happy as in "Oh I'm having a good day". Happy as in a "Oh I have everything I've been looking for" kind of way. I tried to tell Jason how happy he made me, but I don't know that he ever fully understood. He does now. He knows my entire heart now.
Why am I so fixated on finding love again...finding happiness again? Why am I letting it consume me at night...every night? I'm not over Jason...not nearly at all. I never will be over Jason. I'm not even sure I've begun to process what happened. So why the pressure on myself to move on romantically? I think it's because of a conversation he and I had in the car one day on our way back from the hospital. He was very concerned with the fact that I wouldn't move on after he'd died. He told me that he wanted me to move on...to meet someone else...to be happy again. I laughed at him and told him he was crazy. I said that of course I'd move on, but that it wouldn't be for quite a while. I mean, my last relationship was several years ago - and that guy just cheated on me. Imagine how long it'll take me to get over my partner dying! But yet - as I recall that conversation...I'm wondering now if subconsciously I'm putting pressure on myself to fulfill his wishes.
I chatted with someone tonight online. It was the first time I've chatted with someone there at length in a long time. He made me laugh...made me smile. He also made me forget for a little bit that I was sad. I thanked him for doing that. He even asked some questions about Jason. He seemed genuinely interested in knowing me, knowing what I've just been through. He was sympathetic and caring...even though we'd only just "met". He made me realize that maybe I'd put too little stock in the gay community in my previous posts. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are more "good guys" out there who will look at what I've just been through as a badge of honor, rather than a scarlet letter. It's too bad this guy lives in Michigan. LOL
I'm heading to bed in a few minutes...desperately hoping that I don't have a repeat performance of last night's waterworks. All in due time, I guess. I still haven't figured out why this weekend was so hard. It doesn't make sense. Maybe it will be clearer tomorrow.
Until then...
Stuart
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Missing You
Why do I miss you more this weekend than I have in previous weekends? Do I really miss you more, or am I just feeling it more now? I'm guessing its the latter question.
I went back to DFW Founders Plaza to talk to you. It was crowded, so I stayed in my car. The planes were taking off towards the north this time...so instead of watching landings, I watched the take-offs. It was a nice change. I enjoy watching the take-offs more than the landings. There's something magnificent about each take-off. Maybe that's why you enjoyed this so much. It's breathtaking to watch. Maybe that's you underneath each plane, lifting it up off the ground.
I miss holding your hand. I miss feeling your gentle grip on my leg. I miss the nights when I would get into bed with you and kiss you goodnight. I miss our routine. It was like our own special dance...only the two of us knew it. It was so simple and so trivial, but not doing it now...I miss it so much. I miss just being in your presence...watching you sleep...hearing you breathe. I miss every little thing about you.
I went back to DFW Founders Plaza to talk to you. It was crowded, so I stayed in my car. The planes were taking off towards the north this time...so instead of watching landings, I watched the take-offs. It was a nice change. I enjoy watching the take-offs more than the landings. There's something magnificent about each take-off. Maybe that's why you enjoyed this so much. It's breathtaking to watch. Maybe that's you underneath each plane, lifting it up off the ground.
I miss holding your hand. I miss feeling your gentle grip on my leg. I miss the nights when I would get into bed with you and kiss you goodnight. I miss our routine. It was like our own special dance...only the two of us knew it. It was so simple and so trivial, but not doing it now...I miss it so much. I miss just being in your presence...watching you sleep...hearing you breathe. I miss every little thing about you.
I also miss who I was when I was with you. I was happy.
Stuart...Meet Loneliness. Again.
Loneliness is something I've dealt with many times in my life. After high school, I had one meaningful relationship before I came out of the closet. I came out in 1999 and since then I've had fewer relationships than the fingers on one hand. Little did I know I've been in a meaningful relationship this whole time...with loneliness. Its been my partner far long than anyone...no matter how many times I've tried to break it off.
Jason was the first man I've ever connected with on a deeper level. He got me almost more than I get myself. I got him, too. More than he wanted at times. We could read each others minds and finish each others sentences. I knew from our very first conversation online that he was different than any other man I'd chatted with.
I remember it so well. I was laying on the floor of my living room chatting away on gay.com. I was fairly new to Dallas, so I was still considered "new meat". I saw Jason's picture pop up in the chat room and was instantly attracted. I sent him an instant message completely expecting to be ignored like many others had done to me that night. He didn't though. He said hi right back. We chatted for about two hours that night. We continued to chat for about two months on the computer then on the phone before we decided it was time to meet.
It was gay pride weekend and we both realized we'd be out at the same time and place. We texted at the bar and he made his way into the room I was in. I saw him before he saw me...and I was immediately smitten. I had a big dipey smile on my face by the time he made it over to say hi. We chatted for a few minutes before he left to return to his friends. I texted him a few minutes later and asked him to dinner. The following week, we had our first date at PF Changs...my favorite restaurant.
From that moment on, I was hooked. Jason wasn't quite sure, though. It took a few more months of convincing before he would call me his boyfriend...though we were practically together from that very first date. I fell so madly in love with him. I fell harder than I've ever fallen before. But in February of '08, things had grown cold between us physically, and we both decided it was over. We remained friends, though, and quite honestly, I never stopped loving him.
That's why when he was diagnosed with that monster three months later I went head over heels again to help him. I loved him like I've never loved anything else in this life. It was my duty, my job, my honor, and my pleasure to help him...to do whatever it took to see that he was taken care of. He resisted for a while at first...just like he had at the beginning of our relationship. But, like that, he relaxed some and let me in. That's when we got back together in my mind...though it wasn't official for several more months. Several weeks before he died, he was hospitalized for pain management. The nurse one night asked us how long we'd been together. Without skipping a beat, he said two years. I knew then that he disregarded our time "apart"...just as I had.
In the nearly two years since we met, I never once felt lonely. The second I met him...the loneliness I had always felt disappeared. I suppose that only happens when you're standing in front of your soulmate...the person who makes your life complete. Jason was that man for me. He killed loneliness from my life, but the second he died loneliness was reborn. Just like a newborn baby, it grows bigger every day...nursed by emptiness & pain.
I am now a wounded soul. I'm incomplete. My other half is gone...and I'm not entirely sure if the missing half will ever be filled back in. I know no man will ever be able to replace Jason in my life. No man will ever be able to take his place in my heart. But, I'm afraid there's no man who will even want to try. Can my wounded soul ever be mended? If so, is there a man on this earth who possesses the tools to fix it?
I guess its a good sign that there is still a very small part of me that answered those questions "I hope so". Hope exists somewhere in my soul. I feel it there. I just hope I can remember to feed that sometimes...instead of the loneliness.
Until next time...
Stuart
Jason was the first man I've ever connected with on a deeper level. He got me almost more than I get myself. I got him, too. More than he wanted at times. We could read each others minds and finish each others sentences. I knew from our very first conversation online that he was different than any other man I'd chatted with.
I remember it so well. I was laying on the floor of my living room chatting away on gay.com. I was fairly new to Dallas, so I was still considered "new meat". I saw Jason's picture pop up in the chat room and was instantly attracted. I sent him an instant message completely expecting to be ignored like many others had done to me that night. He didn't though. He said hi right back. We chatted for about two hours that night. We continued to chat for about two months on the computer then on the phone before we decided it was time to meet.
It was gay pride weekend and we both realized we'd be out at the same time and place. We texted at the bar and he made his way into the room I was in. I saw him before he saw me...and I was immediately smitten. I had a big dipey smile on my face by the time he made it over to say hi. We chatted for a few minutes before he left to return to his friends. I texted him a few minutes later and asked him to dinner. The following week, we had our first date at PF Changs...my favorite restaurant.
From that moment on, I was hooked. Jason wasn't quite sure, though. It took a few more months of convincing before he would call me his boyfriend...though we were practically together from that very first date. I fell so madly in love with him. I fell harder than I've ever fallen before. But in February of '08, things had grown cold between us physically, and we both decided it was over. We remained friends, though, and quite honestly, I never stopped loving him.
That's why when he was diagnosed with that monster three months later I went head over heels again to help him. I loved him like I've never loved anything else in this life. It was my duty, my job, my honor, and my pleasure to help him...to do whatever it took to see that he was taken care of. He resisted for a while at first...just like he had at the beginning of our relationship. But, like that, he relaxed some and let me in. That's when we got back together in my mind...though it wasn't official for several more months. Several weeks before he died, he was hospitalized for pain management. The nurse one night asked us how long we'd been together. Without skipping a beat, he said two years. I knew then that he disregarded our time "apart"...just as I had.
In the nearly two years since we met, I never once felt lonely. The second I met him...the loneliness I had always felt disappeared. I suppose that only happens when you're standing in front of your soulmate...the person who makes your life complete. Jason was that man for me. He killed loneliness from my life, but the second he died loneliness was reborn. Just like a newborn baby, it grows bigger every day...nursed by emptiness & pain.
I am now a wounded soul. I'm incomplete. My other half is gone...and I'm not entirely sure if the missing half will ever be filled back in. I know no man will ever be able to replace Jason in my life. No man will ever be able to take his place in my heart. But, I'm afraid there's no man who will even want to try. Can my wounded soul ever be mended? If so, is there a man on this earth who possesses the tools to fix it?
I guess its a good sign that there is still a very small part of me that answered those questions "I hope so". Hope exists somewhere in my soul. I feel it there. I just hope I can remember to feed that sometimes...instead of the loneliness.
Until next time...
Stuart
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The Fourth of July
I sat at my brother's house tonight to watch the neighbors shoot off fireworks in the street. Its the annual "White Trash Fourth", but this year wasn't the same.
Last year, Jason was a month into his first chemo treatment and had had a bad reaction to some of the new meds he was on. He had a horrible rash that covered his entire body. It was there for about 2 months straight. He was very self conscious about it and didn't like being seen in public. I was able to convince him to come to the 4th celebration at my brother's, though. He said later it was good to get out of the house. Despite his being upset at the way he looked, it was still special to spend the holiday with him. We ate, laughed, watched the fireworks go off over our heads. It was a nice evening.
Last year, Jason was a month into his first chemo treatment and had had a bad reaction to some of the new meds he was on. He had a horrible rash that covered his entire body. It was there for about 2 months straight. He was very self conscious about it and didn't like being seen in public. I was able to convince him to come to the 4th celebration at my brother's, though. He said later it was good to get out of the house. Despite his being upset at the way he looked, it was still special to spend the holiday with him. We ate, laughed, watched the fireworks go off over our heads. It was a nice evening.
I was looking forward to partying it up this year. But...it just doesn't feel like the 4th. After getting there, I realized I didn't feel much like celebrating. Instead, I just wanted to come home and get on the couch and vegg. I had two drinks and decided I was done.
I suspect the next few holidays will feel like this. I'd rather just get them over with, so I can start to feel like celebrating again. I just don't feel like I have anything to celebrate today. It's our country's birthday. Woo - freakin' - whoo. I'd rather have the man I love standing next to me.
Until next time...
Stuart
I suspect the next few holidays will feel like this. I'd rather just get them over with, so I can start to feel like celebrating again. I just don't feel like I have anything to celebrate today. It's our country's birthday. Woo - freakin' - whoo. I'd rather have the man I love standing next to me.
Until next time...
Stuart
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
A Guardian Angel Named Jason
A Letter To My New Guardian Angel:
My dearest love,
I wish you were here to talk to me. I so need your guidance, advice, and counsel right now. I'm about to embark on what I hope will be an amazing new journey in my life, and I need you by my side.
Several months before you died, we talked many times about the changes I wanted to make in my career. You knew how unsatisfied I was (and still am) in my current position. It's because of you and that awful disease that I seek this change, and as weird as this sounds...I couldn't thank you or cancer enough.
In the coming weeks, I hope to begin to turn my hatred of the disease that took you away from me into something meaningful...something useful...and something fulfilling. Cancer may have stolen the love of my life, but I'm going to make sure that it will give back to me in many other ways.
So, as I prepare for what lies ahead tomorrow and the days and weeks to come, I know that you'll be by my side to help me be the best I can be. I know that you'll be up there pulling as many strings as you can to make this happen for me. I know that when I get this job that I want almost as much as I want you back, I will have you to thank.
Please give me strength to get through this. Give me wisdom I'll need to move forward. Give me calm and understanding to deal with the problems I'll face. Most of all, continue to give me the love and support you have for the last two years.
I love you so incredibly much, and miss you more than you can ever imagine. Come visit me in my dreams soon.
I love you.
Stuart
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