STEVE

The love of my life perished nine days ago. I want to honor him with words on the page, but this whole experience has really been beyond words. Some of the big revelations and journeys I’ve been on, are 1. Locating all of the valuables and getting keys made for the house 2. Filing out paperwork with his family so I can be his official next of kin as we were not married, on paper that is 3. Realizing that I am a widow now 4. Realizing that I am the parent to Titi and Jay and that we are now a family unit of three 5. Though some possessions will always be Steve’s, in reality all of this is mine now 6. Giving the news to my therapist and sponsor 7. Learning to accept help with grace and willingness 8. Filling out his death certificate and locating his five wishes and Last Will and Testament 9. Saying goodbye to his body after spending a night in bed next to his corpse 10. Talking to him constantly to try and realize all the wise words of love and wisdom that he would be giving me now to deal with this difficult situation…

There are many things to do, and many feelings to feel. The roller coaster of grief is real, but I am trying to see it as just that, a ride. I feel the presence of spirits, Steve and his parents and grandparents, and my grandparents. I made a playlist of songs that I knew he loved, and that honored his life and his dying. I shared on FB a meme that read: “It takes time to learn how to be alone without being lonely, But once you do, it's called freedom.” I am learning to be alone and feel peace. Freedom can also be scary, but I know I am not alone. People in this loving community are everywhere, and my sister has slept over 4 of the last nine evenings. I did spend three nights alone in a row, and really I was fine. It felt good to be alone in our house.

Steve was always a gentle soul. His voice is soft though I do feel his presence. We celebrated 28 years of commitment, and renewed our vows every year. At first, I did not know how I was going to live life without him. And though he is still here, on this plane I am alone now. And I am okay with that. I am not lonely. I am grateful for Steve’s life and my life and how our lives intertwined for my entire life as an adult person. He was my provider, protector, friend, soulmate, and lover, and I will never be the same. His mark of love is upon my soul.

Steve wanted to be composted and a tree planted on his compost. I chose a Douglas fir and plan to join him as a Sister Doug fir when it is my time to go. I too plan to die in our bedroom. Everything about this life is perfect. I miss Steve, but I have my cat and dog, program friends, out of program friends, family, and all of you that read my writing here and that care. I have two sponsors, a therapist, and a psychiatrist. Honestly, when Steve was diagnosed with stage four cancer back in April, though we weren’t sure that was the case until mid July somehow, I knew his illness was terminal. All day long we showered each other in love. In the end, life was incredibly challenging for him, and I cared for him. He was so grateful and loving, and just minutes before I rested my head on his shoulder as he took his last breath, he made a sexual innuendo joke about sucking on his straw. Then he couldn’t even do that, and I knew he was leaving me. Bless you Steve. For your love, for your kindness, for your gratitude, for your wisdom and intelligence, for your humor, and for your friendship. My soul is imprinted with your devotion to me for almost thirty years and I will never ever forget you, love. Be at peace.