First time I could write my love

September 23, 2017—I am a sensitive artist, a woman who has PTSD from a life well lived. This blog is a letter to my absolute soul mate with a few diversions/explanations. 

I am broken. 

I know this. I celebrate my broken-ness with gratitude and booze to help with the pain of who/what isn't here and to deal with what is.... so here goes...

Dear sweet love, it took this long for me to be able to write you. Whats funny is that men have a scent. I grabbed our blanket and I could smell "man" on it. I’ve been without one long enough to distinguish a difference and its both beautiful and palpable. I never realized this before. I don’t want to wash our blanket, but it needs it. You are on it and I want to keep whatever I have left of you…. but that blanket is dirty, love. I still have your vomit on it from where and when you died. And I still want it there, but its getting cold and I have to clean it so my sweet 6 yr old son can sleep under it. I mourn what I will lose in the washing machine.

I miss you. You are/were my everything. I wish you had taken me with you, but you didn't. I'm still left here and I guess I'm needed... and I'll do my best until I can see you again. Why did you have to die on me?

For those who don't know what this is about.... I am 44 years old and I met the love of my life when I never expected him or looked for him. He showed up where I worked. I worked at an evaluation and treatment center for the mentally ill....... which means I have seen the worst of the worst. When people lose their shit and go off the scale, this is where the cops and the emergency room send them. And I loved it. I still do.

I came into work and he was on the computer in our break room going through some computer training called Relias. He was tall and slinky... languid is a word that describes him. From the minute I saw him, I felt that he never "lost his shit" or gave too much credibility to the current situation. He was so easy going. Tall, slinky and flowing, he turned and looked at me. I don't think he ever took his eyes off me. 

We talked, small talk, and he slowly turned back to the computer. He had this smile plastered on his face, one of confidence and cocky arrogance. Every time he looked at me, he gave me THAT smile. It was intoxicating because I overwhelm and intimidate people easily.

Meanwhile, I tried to not like him. A bunch of us co-workers were talking about our trouble sleeping and I had horrible insomnia. I related that I hadn't been able to sleep for months. He says, "I got a cure for your insomnia." and I said "I seriously doubt that." I didn't take it as a "come on", but to him, that is what it was.

Because of my reputation as a trouble-maker, I took a quiet road. Our own HR person suggested to my love that he find someone to carpool with because he didn't have money for gas until the next paycheck. Guess who lived closest to him? Right.

So, we carpooled. And he forgot his wallet in my car, which made him HAVE to come get it. He came over, we kissed and he never left. I didn't want him to. It felt un-natural for him to not be here.

He was only 9 months older than me. We hit it off, it was fireworks- two aliens meeting on a strange planet and realizing they ARE from the same planet. We were meant for each other. Every part of us matched up.

He knew he had a genetic history of heart attacks, but this dude was 6 ft 4 and built like a brick shit-house... and nothing phased him. He was immortal to me. He was a God. 

One night, May 27, 2017,  we had the best dinner together and he told me: If I had one last meal, THIS WOULD BE IT. We had steak, baked potato and grilled corn. We watched John Wick. If you know the story, you know this means a lot: he told me if he was going to leave me and die, he'd pick "this dog" and showed me a picture of a dog that was in our no-kill animal shelter.

We went to bed. We made love. He started feeling pressure in his chest, but we thought it had to do with dinner. We stopped.

He got sick to his stomach and vomited.... I got scared and got the blood pressure cuff and took his blood pressure. It was normal. I stopped "loving on him" and made a joke that the leading cause of heart attacks of men over 40 were red-heads (which I am).. He said, "There is more truth to that than I want to admit!" See above photo ;)

I asked him if he wanted to go to the ER. No, he said. I asked him if he thought he'd be OK.... he said, "Yes." I asked him what I should do and he said "Just what you're doing, baby."




He had been a fireman and an EMT. I thought he knew more than me, so....

I grabbed his head and held it on my chest and loved him, put a cold wash-cloth on him and just caressed him, rubbed his back and his neck and his head.

We both fell asleep.

On the morning of May 28, I woke up, having to pee really bad. I also had diarrhea, so I took longer than normal. I went to the bathroom in the front of the house because I didn't want him to hear me pee (or anything else). I finished, went into our bedroom and saw him laying on his side, with his back to me. I noticed purple mottling on the side closest to the bed.



Instinctively, I knew what that mea!!!nt, but I didn't think God or Fate would be that mean. I touched him and said (asked??) "Baby??" He was cold on the side farthest from the bed. I turned him on his back. He wasn't responding. I hopped on top of him, straddling him and I yelled and smacked him. "BABY!!!"




No response.

I am certified in CPR, so that is what I started doing. I grabbed my phone, called 911 when I could see the numbers (I'm old and wear glasses) so, I talked/screamed to the operator while doing CPR: "PLEASE SEND SOMEBODY, HE'S DYING, HE'S DEAD!!! PLEASE HELP ME!!!" The 911 operator asked a few questions and I did my best to answer while doing CPR, but then lost it and begged:  "DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS, I JUST FOUND YOU!!!!"

When I started CPR, I didn't stop. I pounded that man until I thought I couldn't move. The whole time, the 911 operator was there on the phone and then she asked, "Ma'am, is there anyone I can call for you?"

With that question, I knew what had happened.

The grief is beyond words or human understanding. I have tried to kill myself several times, but I've been "saved" every time.... so I guess I'm supposed to be here. I have a young son whom I love, but this surpassed my ability to be healthy for him at that time. Please forgive me.

I had cops, investigators and coroners in my house and they took out their phones to take pictures of "our cool house." That changed me.


And that is why I have this blog. I'm gonna talk to my love here. He should be here. Don't judge me, don't judge at all. Its not about you or what you want. OK?


I got our dog the next day that the shelter was open.