1. My boyfriend died…

Just 6 months ago. But it feels like yesterday and 6 yrs ago all at the same time. I still can’t wrap my head around it. We were together almost 13 yrs.

He had come from Tucson where he lived to Phoenix to help me out with some volunteer projects and watch the cats while Ian and I went out of town. He wasn’t feeling well and I was annoyed at him because if he was sick, he couldn’t help me - in case it was Covid. So he stayed home. And as I left hurriedly to get to the volunteer event I yelled out our usual parting LOVE YOU, BYE… I don’t even know if he said it back.

When Ian and I came back he was dead on the couch - and I knew…He was yellow. He looked cold and translucent. I called 911 and we pulled him to the ground. They talked me thru giving him CPR and I felt his rib pop and it made a sound. When I pushed his chest I heard gasps and for a moment I thought he would be OK, he’s alive. Paramedics came and moved Ian and I out of the way and they said he was dead and had been for hours.

Then just everything from then seemed so surreal.
The police came, the crisis team, the coroner.

And every person asked the same questions and since he was my boyfriend, not my husband suddenly I felt on the outside. I had no claim to him.

The crisis team kept trying to get me out of the house and kept offering me “snacks”.

And Ian was by my side every minute, he would not budge. And there were moments that I thought he needs to get out of here. He needs to leave, not to be here in the middle of this chaos, death, and everything that was going on. It’s too much.

And all of this happened on the exact same day that my husband, Ian’s father, died 3 years before.
Yes, the exact same day.

Brian had died unexpectedly three years before. We were still married but not together. After we stopped living together we didn’t annoy each other anymore and we just moved forward still married raising Ian. And in this case this was a good thing because as his wife I could make all the medical decisions and everything about his care was made available to me with that one word - WIFE.

That made everything about Bret not my business.

Brian fell and hit his head in the parking lot. It seemed he had a seizure or something and fell just perfectly that it jostled his brain and he was in coma for 10 days before he was declared brain dead. He was an organ donor and they kept him alive for 2 days before they harvested his organs. I had to tell my son his father had died.

And I had to tell Bret’s daughter her father had died.

It is the worst to be the bearer of news that you know will change someone’s life for the worse.

I have isolated myself from the world.

One, because I feel no one gets my situation and two, because when I reached out I was rejected.

I was told “I need a breather from you….”

See, this isn’t my first or second loss of a partner, but my 3rd. My fiancé died of cancer when I was 21. It was slow and painful and awful and I did not handle it well at all. Apparently with the last two I have not learned any better.

When Peter died I lashed out at people with the news of his death - just to see people freak out and feel bad. It was a kind of release for me. It makes me think of the phrase “hurt people hurt people”. I used to think that was crap. Now I see it’s how I live my life.

When Brian died I wore his death and the widowhood I had earned like a badge. I was married, we had a life, we had a child, he was in my life for 27 years - he was my family whether we were together as a couple or not. We were forever connected. His death was shocking, tragic, heart breaking. To settle up his life and all the things about him was my duty and my privilege. I mourned him, I hated him, I missed him.

When Bret died 3 years later, it broke me.
I am unmendable. I can’t repair myself anymore.

I mean really… Really? It’s just crazy.

And I find that 6 months later when I tell people my boyfriend died I do it apologetically. I am not sure why… I think because I need to relay to someone why I am or am not doing something…. “Bret just died…” but to the who’s I am telling they don’t know me or they don’t know Bret, or I don’t feel they will honor my news in a loving way or I don’t trust them enough. What do you do with this news…

I will hear platitudes of social norms “I’m so sorry for your lose (but I don’t really care, cause its not happening to me)… God has a master plan (that’s just crap we say)… You will see him again (no, I won’t)…. He is in a better place (and WHERE is that)…. He loved you… He is still with you…. You have all your memories….” And on and on… And that is all crap.

Or I can’t speak of it without a wall of grief coming over me and I am barely holding it together as it is. No one wants to be there for that.

And with this being the second death so close together I feel like people have had enough of me and “my tragedy”.

And Bret’s death is mine, as much as our relationship was personal between us as lovers, his death is personal to me. My personal thing. No one gets our relationship but us. No one knows it but us. No one can feel it but us.
And no one did this to me but him.

And no one understands the depth of his loss to me but me.

And I wear it like a coat - this coat of loss is mine.

No one wears it…

No one carries it…

No one owns it…

No one made it…

But me.