love

I Almost Called — A Poem

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment 
I almost called you today
just so I could hear your voice.
I've tried imagining it in my head all day,
but it's like the sound faded away,
just like your presence here on Earth.
I almost texted you today
just because I wanted to share a moment.
I've tried journaling instead,
but I miss the interaction of your responses,
just like I miss your embrace.
I almost yelled for you today
when I needed help for just a minute.
I've tried learning how to do it by myself,
but it's much harder than I thought,
and I'd rather just not do it at all at that point.
I almost called you today
like I always did when I was heading home.
I've tried listening to podcasts,
but they just make me realize
I'm completely alone now.
I almost texted you today
because, for a brief time, 
I forgot all about your death.
But as I reached for my phone,
I remembered...
And I fell apart all over again,
just like I have every single day
since I watched you stop breathing.
Advertisement

Because She Gives Me Strength

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

Over the past four months, I’ve done a lot of things that, quite frankly, I can’t fully explain. Some of these things, like drinking an entire bottle of rum in a single day, were 100% a form of pain management. Others, like agreeing to be in a fashion show (more on that later), are definitely no-brainer decisions I’ve made on the premise that Emily would want me to do them.

Honestly, I can’t quite explain where the strength or knowledge that compels me to do these things comes from. However, I know that it’s been happening from the moment I walked out of Vanderbilt just over four months ago. And, although most people may think I’m crazy for saying this, I’m choosing to believe it’s some form of Emily with a side of the Holy Spirit leading me along.

Of course, if you don’t believe me, maybe you will once I finish this little story that’s been on my mind today.

Words Are My Thing

When we started the planning process for Emily’s funeral, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But, when her mom asked me if I’d like to speak, I just felt something inside of me saying, “Do it.” I guess it’s probably the fact that words are my thing, and I knew deep down Emily would want me to write something.

So, I did. In fact, this is what I wrote (and read):

“Every great love story starts with an adorable narrative of how the couple met. Sometimes they’re high school sweethearts or have a budding college romance. Other times they meet in places like work, through mutual friends, or at church. 

Of course, if you know Emily, then you know how much she “loved” fitting into the mold. So, it’s only fitting that we met in a way much like any other couple… we met in group therapy in 2018.

If you ask me, I say that our meeting was serendipitous. I was instantly drawn to her warmth, her smile, and her energy. I could just tell that there was something about Emily that made her extraordinary, and I wanted to learn what exactly that spark was all about. If you ask Emily, she’d say that she really only sat next to me because I was ‘less weird than everyone else in the room.’ 

Despite these less-than-conventional beginnings, Emily and I quickly bonded like any couple who is destined to be together. We often laughed at each other’s snarky comments during our therapy group’s weekly meetings and checked in with each other when we sensed something was “off” with the other person. Over time, our conversations moved out of the therapy room into the parking lot, then to text messages and phone calls, dinner rendezvous, and trips to McKay’s together. She accompanied my children and me on vacations, we celebrated a pandemic Thanksgiving together over Zoom, and we regularly indulged in our favorite guilty pleasure — Grey’s Anatomy — from the comfort of my couch.

For me, every moment we spent together was magical and meaningful and far beyond anything I’d ever experienced with another person in my entire life. Yet, somehow, it took us until April 2021 and a day-long adventure of couch shopping together to finally admit what was on our hearts: we were in love.

In some ways, I think the wait was a lesson in patience and learning to ‘trust the process.’ Of course, this lesson was just one of the many things Emily taught me during our time together.

Throughout our friendship and romantic relationship, Emily taught me so many things that I’m not sure I can even list them all. But, I’m going to try and share a few with everyone who is gathered here today.

Emily taught me what true joy and passion looked like. Every time Emily danced, played her oboe, sang, or played the piano, she did so wholeheartedly. You could see the joy these creative outlets brought her, and it made watching or listening to her that much more impactful. 

But she didn’t just express that joy through creative arts — it showed through in even the most mundane tasks. She found ways to sprinkle joy into activities like cooking, caring for pets, working on grad school assignments… pretty much anything you can imagine, Emily found a way to make it joyful and exciting (except cleaning, but we’ll just forget that).

Emily showed me what strength, courage, and determination can really do. In the time I knew her, I watched Emily push through eating disorder recovery. She’d set goals and challenges for herself, and crush them time and time again. She would reach out for support when she needed it, eat meals even when she admitted she didn’t want to or heard her eating disorder telling her to do the opposite. She faced fear foods, bought clothes for her changing body, and broke habits that had become commonplace — all for the sake of her own future. 

Because I watched her do all of this, I had the strength to face my own demons and work on myself as well. I made it through some exceptionally tough times, processed traumas that I’d buried away and shared with no one, and broke out of my own unhealthy habits — all because Emily taught me that I could.

Emily also taught me the true essence of living authentically. Day in and day out, she made the choice to show up and be real. She wasn’t afraid to share her struggles with others and speak candidly about her life. I know this transparency helped her connect with so many people, like her friends from eating disorder treatment, fellow transplant recipients, and even the hundreds of clients she served through her jobs in peer support and crisis stabilization. She was willing to be real with people, and I learned how to be my true self in her presence.

Emily showed me what gratitude looked like, too. Even before she learned about her organ donor, she constantly shared how thankful she was for the precious gift of life she received from another person’s selfless act. After she learned about Victor, she looked for ways to thank him and memorialize him in every step of her journey. She included him on her graduation cap and she fervently shared his story. We’d even discussed ways to show our gratitude to Victor in our life going forward, both through a memorial table at our wedding and by naming the child we hoped to have together after him.

Emily taught me so much more about compassion than I ever knew was possible. No matter what people did or said to her, she still found a way to care about them and help them as much as she could. She would give anyone the shirt off her back or drive them halfway across the country if it would help them in some way. She never asked for anything in return, and she was never resentful or mean — she simply paid it forward to anyone who crossed her path.

Most of all, Emily showed me what true unconditional love looked and felt like. From our first kiss until just a few hours before she passed, Emily constantly let me know how much she cared about me with her words, and more importantly, her actions. It didn’t matter how tired she was or what I had or hadn’t done for her — she loved me completely, without hesitation. I had never experienced the type of love that Emily showed me, and I will carry every compliment, every hug, and every moment we spent together in my heart for the rest of my time on Earth.

As many of you know, I had just proposed to Emily a little less than a month ago. Although we had just started planning our wedding, I was looking forward to writing my vows and making countless promises to her as we started our lives together as a married couple. 

Unfortunately, most of those promises I would have made are now null and void since they required her to also be here on Earth with me. I’ll admit, I’m a little salty she went first, because that’s exactly what I told her not to do. But, I have decided that one of the ways I can keep Emily’s spirit alive is by making some slightly different promises to her today with all of you here as my witness.

So, Emily, even though the life we dreamed of together is going to look a bit different from here on out:

  • I promise you I will find ways to spread joy to others through music and my various spiritual gifts. I may even find a way to spread joy throughout all 50 states since I know you wanted us to visit them all together.
  • I promise I will continue to pay it forward to others by sharing my own recovery journey and helping those who are struggling. If I can, I will even find a way to make that treatment center we dreamed of opening together a reality.
  • I promise I will share Victor’s story and yours in any way I can. I will honor you both by being an organ donor myself and encouraging others to share the gift of life.
  • Finally, I promise you I will continue to live my life authentically and learn to love myself the way you loved me, unconditionally and without hesitation.

I know that, if you’re here today, Emily touched your life just like she touched mine. I also know that even though Emily has left this Earth, her story isn’t over because we all carry pieces of Emily with us in our memories and in our hearts. As long as we’re all willing to cling to those pieces of Emily that we each carry, find joy in simple moments, and live our lives wholeheartedly, Emily will always be here with us.“

She Gave Me Strength

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine brought up the funeral. She talked about how she just remembered me making it through my entire speech, and then I just sat down and completely collapsed.

And she wasn’t wrong, I fell into the chair and just started sobbing. It’s like I was somehow protected from the weight of my emotions as I read, and then it all hit me at once as soon as I was done. And, given everything that’s happened to me since, I firmly believe that Emily was there with me that day, giving me the strength to pull through.

Looking back, I don’t even fully remember reading the speech. But I know I made it through.

It’s funny, because when Emily was alive, she was a major source of strength and determination for me, too.

For example, Emily was one of the first people I told about the divorce and many of the details behind it. As I spent several months in the trenches of negotiations and talks with lawyers, Emily was there. When I felt like giving up, she reminded me what I deserve. When I panicked about the future, Emily told me she knew I’d make it through. And when I was really bad, she sat and drank with me until I felt ready to take on the world again.

And it was exactly the same after the divorce was finalized and I decided to do some intense trauma work with my therapist. It was the same when I applied for jobs or took on a new freelance client. It was the same when other friends would completely knock me down. And, funny enough, it was the same when I agreed to ride a water slide that seemed absolutely terrifying. No matter what I faced, Emily gave me the strength to go for it and stand tall. She was my security blanket and the medal to give me courage all wrapped up in a cute, fun-size package. She was the one who helped me through everything.

She’s Still Giving Me Strength

I know that I should be getting over my loss and moving on with life, but I’ll be honest, it’s hard. I told someone the other day that these past 4 months have been harder than anything else I’ve faced in my life, and I meant it. Harder than the semester I got sent to alternative school, harder than the college semester I almost didn’t finish, harder than miscarriage, divorce, and everything else that’s ever happened to me.

Each morning I wake up and spend a solid five minutes convincing myself to get up. Then I have to fight the urge to vomit and cry as I start moving around. There’s usually at least one point where I cry, and I’m still sleeping on the couch.

But, somehow, I get dressed and get the kids ready for school. I get my work done, I prepare dinner, I get the kids ready for bed. I’m holding steady with my freelance work, I’m somehow keeping my head above water with the household chores. And, most importantly, I’m still alive, even though I’ve been incredibly close to trying to change that.

At the end of almost every day, as I lay on the couch curled up in one of Emily’s favorite blankets, I ask myself how I made it through another day. And, nearly every day, there’s only one explanation that comes to mind: her.

I don’t know why I’m still here, but I know that every breath I take is because of Emily. From the first day I met her, she gave me strength. And, I feel so lucky that she’s still giving me strength right now, because today hasn’t been a great day. I just hope that, someday when the time is right, she won’t have to give me strength anymore and can just give my a hug instead.

Because She Loved Gift Giving

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

One of the hardest parts of grief is the unexpected ways it creeps into everyday events. Yesterday was of those days where everything brought on the tears, and I actually ended up just getting up and leaving less than halfway through church service so I could go cry in my car.

Today seemed better, and I was so thankful. I woke up and hit the ground running. By lunch time, I’d gotten 80% of my work tasks for the day finished, I had laundry running, and I used my lunch break to clean out the fridge. I wrapped up my work day and got on Facebook, then I saw a post and remembered I’d never finished the checkout process for something on Emily’s brother’s wedding registry, so I did that.

When I pushed button to finish the transaction, one of those waves hit me… And I spent the next 30 minutes wiping away the tears.

As I cried, I started asking myself why something that normally would bring me and Emily such joy was making me cry, especially when I’d been so stable all day. Of course, here I am hours later, still wondering why buying a registry gift tugged at my heartstrings so much. And, honestly, I don’t have an answer. But, I do know that Emily would be happy about the gift because she always loved getting the people she loved things that brought them joy.

Emily Lived For Holiday Shopping

Okay, let me rephrase that heading — Emily loved to shop all the time. However, she really enjoyed the opportunity to shop for other people.

Every Christmas that I knew her, she’d sit down and carefully plan out what to get each person on her list. She especially loved shopping for her nieces, but really everyone got special treatment. Sometimes I’d watch her hunt for weeks, trying to find the perfect gift, and every time, she’d get so happy when she came across an item that made her think of someone on her list.

Birthdays were done in a similar fashion. Whether it was her youngest niece or her dad, Emily made sure to find the perfect gift and the perfect card for each and every person when their birthday rolled around.

I don’t know that I’d ever seen someone who put so much thought and effort into gift giving. I also don’t know that I’ve ever seen someone so happy to watch someone open the gifts she got for them, but Emily always was.

Of course, the fact that I not only have all of the gifts she ever gave me, but that I absolutely cherish them (and did even before she died) should tell you everything you need to know about her gift giving skills.

I have two different t-shirts she got me for two separate Christmases. One of them says, “You can talk to me about mental health… And cats.” The other one is a music joke and says, “These are difficult times,” then has two complicated time signatures on it. I also have the Grey’s Anatomy book and cactus shirt she got me for my birthday a couple years ago, which I’ll never forget.

Any Excuse Was A Good Excuse To Buy A Gift

Of course, holidays only come around so many times each year. But that didn’t stop Emily from finding other excuses to buy random gifts for the people she loved.

I’m pretty sure that every time that woman went into Five Below or Target, she came home with something for everyone in the house. And every time we’d clean up her apartment or clean out her car, she’d find a “just because gift” she’d picked up for someone from a store because “it made me think of them as soon as I saw it.”

I told her time and time again that she was spoiling the kids and I by buying random gifts. Every single time, she’d just smile and say, “I love all of you and you deserve to be spoiled.” And, given that most of the items came from $5 or less sections of stores, I guess I can’t argue with her too much.

However, I think what I really learned from watching her buy things for people is this: Emily always had other people on her mind, and she enjoyed expressing her love for them in any way that she possibly could. She bought items because they made her think of the person she got them for, and giving the item to the person was a way for her to let them know that they’re always on her mind… Even when she’s in the middle of Five Below.

I Would Love To Harness Her Gift-Giving Spirit

I’ll be honest, gift giving has never been a skill that I possess. I am terrible at remembering birthdays, and even worse at taking the time to go shopping for someone and pick out the perfect gift. But, after seeing the joy that doing it brought Emily and knowing how much I cherish the gifts she gave to me, I’d really like to see if I can get better at the whole gift giving thing this year.

It may be the best thing I’ve ever done. Or, it may completely flop. But, either way, it’s another thing I can do to try to keep Emily’s spirit alive. And that’s something I really, truly want to do with my entire soul.

I loved everything about Emily. And Emily loved giving gifts. So here goes nothing as I try to find pieces of myself in the things that mattered to the woman I loved.

Because I’m Still Heartbroken

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

Last weekend I made the trip from Murfreesboro to Knoxville. I’ve made the trip so many times lately that it’s really become commonplace. Yet, just two years ago, I’d only ever stopped in Knoxville if I needed gas or something on the way to or from Gatlinburg. But, because of Emily, I started making that trip quite frequently in 2021 and 2022. She loved going home any chance she got, and I can’t say I blame her. There’s just something about visiting that town that feels welcoming and calm.

Over the past 4 months, that three-hour drive and my weekends in Knoxville have become one of the things I look forward to the most. I think it’s because it offers just the right mixture of comfort and catharsis. She’s everywhere I look when I’m in Knoxville, so I feel connected with her when I’m there. Yet, at the same time, the heartache washes over me at the most random times while I’m there — and I’ve simply learned to embrace it.

Short Time, Long Story

I won’t go into details now, but I will say that much of my life before Emily wasn’t great. Because of the signals I received during critical points in my life, I repressed a lot and placed much blame for every horrible event in my life upon myself. But, thanks to months of trauma therapy and Emily’s love, I’d reached a point while we were together where life was good. So, naturally, one of my first fears, when Emily died, was whether or not I was about to fall right back down the mountain I’d worked so hard to climb.

I really don’t remember much from October 19. My memory from that day is a blur, with random snapshots of single moments or items I can recall, almost like polaroids. But, one of the things I do remember doing was texting my therapist from the table at First Watch. I told her, “Emily died. I know I have a session scheduled for tomorrow, but I could really use support before that.” And, as soon as I met with her that afternoon and shared all that had happened in those last 48 hours, I told my therapist that I had no idea how I was going to work through this, but I knew that if I didn’t start doing something right away, I was going to fall all the way down the mountain and I probably would never make it back up again.

So, for the past few months, I have been working through The Grief Recovery Handbook (or “the purple book” as my therapist calls it). It’s different than any other workbook or therapeutic modality I’ve ever encountered, and yet I’ve found it incredibly beneficial.

Anyway, the final three activities involve a lot of memory recall as you essentially map out every single loss you’ve experienced in your life (the loss history graph), then make a timeline about your relationship with one of the losses you selected from your loss history graph (the relationship graph). And, I’ll admit, I’m a bit of an overachiever when it comes to therapy homework, but doing so with these activities really helped me see a lot about my life and, more specifically, the years where Emily’s life intersected with mine.

I often feel like people judge me a bit when I say that Emily and I only knew each other for 4.5 years and then call her the love of my life. But here’s the thing: when you look at all that happened in our lives in the time period between when we met and Emily died, it’s as much as some people experience in a decade or more.

In less than 5 years, Emily and I went from being strangers who sat next to each other in a room for a couple hours each week to the person we wanted holding our hand in our final moments. We took a half dozen vacation-type trips together, plus went on even more weekend road trips. We watched each other make major life changes, land new jobs, buy cars, and earn a master’s degree (at least Emily did). We spent late nights confiding in each other, and spent many mornings sipping coffee together with no pants on. We hugged, we kissed, we had sex, we lived together, we got engaged… I could name all the things we did for hours without even starting on all the plans we made for our future together.

I know people say that when you find the right person, time often ceases to exist. However, I think the reasoning behind the way Emily and I lived our lives together is even deeper than that.

I think that Emily approached everything in life with the mentality of “live every day like it’s your last” and “you only get one life, so make the most of it.” And, I guess that’s how most people would approach life if they’d almost died and received a life-changing miracle. She never once took a single breath for granted, and she was determined to do as much as she could with whatever time she had here on Earth.

Meanwhile, I think my approach to life became focused on finally having the self-worth and tools I needed to build a life that made me happy. In a way, I felt like I had 30+ years of playing catch-up to do. But also, I just didn’t care about what other people think anymore, and I wanted to carve out the life I’d always dreamed of.

Together, I think our approaches to life in general created a perfect storm the moment we both looked at each other from across the table at Hooters. We both had “lightbulb moments” simultaneously, and we just knew without even saying a word that we both wanted a “happily ever after” together.

The Aftermath of an Unexpected Storm

I knew going into it that this week would be hard. Our Week 2 task for the grief group I joined was for each of us to share the story of how our partner died. Then, as if it was perfectly planned to coincide, my homework for individual therapy was to write a letter to Emily about anything possibly left unsaid between the two of us (with specific parameters outlined in the book).

With both tasks, I couldn’t help but focus on the suddenness of her death. It was so unexpected and completely unpredictable. And yet, it happened. It’s like a tornado that fell from the sky without warning or a hurricane that changed course in the 11th hour, leaving people with no way to prepare. We were planning a wedding, we were going to have a child together and be a family of 5 with a dog and an adorable house with a backyard that had trees for Emily to climb or hang a hammock up while the kids and the dog ran around. We were going to open a treatment center together, then eventually retire to the beach and spend our days making music together and collecting sea shells.

But, that’s not what happened at all. and I am stuck in the devastation without any sign of rescue… or so it feels at times.

And I think that, although Emily and I were not at all on bad terms or holding onto any type of resentment, the suddenness of it all left me with a lot of unsaid words.

So, when I sat with Emily at the cemetery on Saturday afternoon, I talked to her about it all… a lot. In fact, I told her about the letter my therapist had assigned me to write, and I actually wrote it while I sat there on a blanket in the grass right next to her. A lot of it, as you can imagine, was filled with apologies and regrets. I was sorry for not telling her how I felt about her sooner, I was sorry for getting her kicked out of DBT group (remind me to write a post about this), and I was sorry for not protecting her when she dated Julian (another post for the future). But, at the same time, almost half of the letter was me thanking her and acknowledging all that she did. I thanked her for taking a chance by sitting next to me in DBT group on the first day, I appreciated how she loved me and my kids, and I was so proud and awestruck by her willingness to risk a lot by simply coming out.

When I finished the letter on Saturday, I read it to her, word for word. And, just like when I read the speech I’d prepared for her funeral, I completely broke down as soon as I read the last sentence. But, instead of melting into the arms of a dear friend like I did as soon as I walked away from the pulpit at the funeral, the only thing I had to melt into on Saturday was the ground. And boy, did I wish for a moment that I could melt down into the ground with my sweet Emily.

It’s funny, though, because this week has felt much different than anything that’s come before it. As I told my therapist before I read the letter to her today, it almost felt as if I left some of the wreckage of this disaster there in the grass on Saturday afternoon without even realizing it.

I’ll Always Be Broken, But Not Beyond Repair

Don’t mistake my words in this post. I am a heartbroken human who will probably never understand why everything happened the way it did with Emily. In many ways, I saw her as my redemption arc, my opportunity to love and be loved the way I always wanted to love someone and deserve from another. But, I think this week, and especially writing that letter to Emily directly, has helped me see that there’s a difference between broken and unfixable.

Because of Emily, I not only learned what true, unconditional love from another person felt like, but I also started to see that I deserved such a thing. What’s more, I learned that I could, in fact, tolerate or even like myself. And, by sharing with her the pain points of our time together, especially those thing I’d wished I’d done differently (even if none of them were things I could have done anything about), I think I finally let go of at least a portion of the burden I’ve felt every single day since October 19.

I don’t know that I’ll ever even think about dating again, and I know that my heart will always be held together with superglue and duct tape because it completely broke in those early morning hours of that October day. But, thanks to Emily’s love and our time together, I now know that I never have been, nor ever will be, broken beyond repair. And, anytime I need a reminder of that or need to recenter myself, I know exactly where to go — Knoxville.

Because She Ran on Coffee

/ musicmaker182 / 1 Comment

My sleep has significantly improved over the past few weeks. However, I still experience mornings that are harder than others. Last Thursday was such a day, and boy was it a doozy. But I had a busy day ahead, so I pulled into the Starbucks drive thru after I took the kids to school.

At first, it was all ordinary. I ordered my “usuals.” Then, the woman said, “And what else?” A normal question. But just hearing that made me think back to all the times I had stopped and ordered coffee for the both of us.

My voice cracked as I said, “No, that’s all.” I felt the tears begin as the woman handed me my iced chai. And by the time I pulled out of the parking lot, I was full-blown sobbing. It may have been a bit dramatic, but I couldn’t help it because coffee always makes me think of Emily.

She Always Had Coffee

When Emily and I were in DBT group together, I quickly noticed a pattern with how she’d enter the building each week — always a coffee in hand. Sometimes it was in a travel mug from home, sometimes it was from Dunkin’ or Starbucks, and sometimes it was from a gas station. But, no matter where it came from, it was always coffee.

As Emily and I became friends, I learned that coffee was literally Emily’s fuel. It didn’t matter if it was 8:00 in the morning or 4:00 in the afternoon. She’d have a coffee in her hand or gladly accept one if it was offered.

However, her fatal flaw was not that she drank a bunch of coffee, but rather how long it took her to drink it. I would sometimes see her nurse the same cup of coffee for four or more hours. My favorite moments were the ones where she’d end up with two coffees for this reason.

Coffee Mug Mornings

I remember the first time Emily spent the night. I remember it because the next morning, we sat at the table, sipping coffee and smiling. I kept looking at her and grinning from ear to ear because I still couldn’t believe she was actually interested in me. Yet, there she was, smiling right back at me.

Throughout our relationship, we spent many mornings drinking coffee together. Sometimes, like on the Saturday mornings the kids were at their dad’s, we’d sit on the couch in our pajamas (which meant Emily was usually just in one of my t-shirts) and sip coffee while we watched a television show or just talked. There were other days when we’d grab coffee together through a drive thru or I’d make her coffee to go as she headed out the door for work.

On Sundays, Emily would never finish her coffee before it was time to leave for church. So she’d take her coffee mug into my car and continue drinking it while I drove. Of course, this meant that the coffee mugs would pile up in the floorboard until I took them inside, but it made me laugh nonetheless.

Even when we traveled, we made time for coffee. I remember when we went to Chicago, we grabbed coffee the first morning we were there and sat to drink it as we looked out at Lake Michigan. When we went to Melbourne, Florida, we grabbed coffee from a local place and sipped it as we walked along the beach and sat to watch the waves roll in and out.

Every moment seemed so simple, yet so perfect all at once. And they all involved coffee.

I Think of Her When I Drink Coffee

I know that it’s probably just the fact that her death is so fresh, but I am continuously shocked by all the seemingly minor things that make me think of Emily. It’s probably ridiculous that I can’t drink or even smell coffee without thinking of her, but that’s where I’m at. It’s just one of many things I strongly associate with her and probably always will.

I don’t go through coffee nearly as quickly now, because Emily isn’t here drinking it. But I’d give anything to sit and drink coffee with her again. Here’s to hoping there’s coffee in Heaven? I’d love to sit and watch the sun rise with a cup of coffee in one hand while my other hand holds on to Emily.

Because I Can’t Help But Blame Myself

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

Today’s therapy session really hit me hard. The part where I lost it was when I realized how little time had passed between the proposal and Emily’s death. (It was less than 3 weeks.) Regarding the timeline of our relationship, those two items rest directly next to each other — both equally impactful, yet in stark contrast to each other, like polar opposites. They’re like day and night. The beginnings of forever and the ending credits, with nothing more than some spreadsheets and Pinterest boards in between.

I’m unsure how to share everything inside my mind right now. It’s chaos, yet the thoughts keep rolling as if my brain thinks it can piece everything together in a way that makes sense. Unfortunately, all it keeps coming up with are ways to blame me.

I’m No Stranger To Blaming Myself

Emily’s death isn’t the first time I have experienced life events that cause me to question everything about myself. In fact, many thoughts eating away at me today sound eerily similar to thoughts that lived in my head rent-free through most of the early 2000s when I was in middle school and early high school.

I realize many aspects of my life made me vulnerable to the events that unfolded during my middle school years. And, everywhere I turned, I was confronted with even more evidence that the things that happened to me were either not as awful as they felt to me, or they were merely consequences I deserved.

My abuser made it clear that I brought out the worst in him, and he couldn’t control himself around me. The adults I told (a teacher and the guidance counselor) both found reasons to pass the blame onto me or take my assailant’s side.

So, eventually, I started blaming myself. And that trend stuck with me. Bullying, failed friendships, future assaults, mental health crises — all of these things were my fault. I even found a way to blame myself for a classmate’s fatal accident in high school even though I was no where near the accident the weekend it happened.

Even now, anytime anything goes wrong, I immediately seek anything I can use to blame it all on myself.

The Blame Game Is An Easy One To Play

Once you start fishing for ways to make something your fault, it’s incredibly easy for that list to multiply. You can twist almost any situation in a way that places the blame on you, regardless of whether or not there’s any truth to it.

The easiest way to make Emily’s death my fault is to simply say I should have made her go the emergency room much sooner.

The week after I proposed, she saw her PCP about the symptoms she was experiencing, but the doctor didn’t seem concerned or in a rush to diagnose what was going on, even though it was obvious Emily was in pain. I told her how concerned I was, but each time I mentioned the ER, she came up with an excuse to not go. And, because I hate conflict and I never wanted Emily to feel like I didn’t see her as an equal adult, I never pushed. I was weak.

From there, I can go down several different rabbit holes to blame myself even further. I could say I wasn’t reminding her to take her medications, nor was I doing my part to make sure she was taking care of her body. Emily picked up tons of extra shifts in September. 2022 had become an expensive year for us, and she thought the extra money would help. But I knew from watching Emily work 60+ hour weeks in previous years, it’s just not good for her.

Then we can say I messed up her medication routines with the move and my own routines and schedules. Or the stress of wedding planning threw off routines and habits she’d developed. In fact, you could say (and some have) that the fact that I proposed is the entire issue and that she died because I “turned her gay.” Or maybe she gave up because she didn’t really want to marry me.

Now, am I saying any of these thoughts are rational? Not necessarily. But I am saying that there are all sorts of ways to blame me for Emily’s departure from this world.

What Do We Do With Blame?

I feel like blame is one of the heaviest loads I’ve ever carried around in my life. Because, at least in my mind, I’m not just living with the burden of it all in my current lifetime, but it’s also left me permanently flagged and taken away what chances I might have had for an eternal life after this.

In middle school and high school, I channeled the negative energy self-blamed filled me with into very unhealthy decisions. I self-harmed as a form of punishment. I went to confession and prayed the Rosary. I stockpiled medications then consumed large quantities at once to make myself sick or experience the way it temporarily altered my brain. I even tried to end my existence a few times.

But, that was two decades ago. So what do I do with this guilt and shame that I’m feeling now?

I’ll be honest, what I’m doing now isn’t any better than what I did back then. And, just like I discovered in my youth, nothing provides much more than a temporary drop in my emotions and intrusive thoughts.

Each day, there’s a part of me that wishes I could talk to Emily and find out whether she blames me. But mostly, I just wish I could either bring her back or, at the very least, trade places with her so she could continue down the incredible path she’d outlined for herself.

Like I told my therapist today as we discussed the entire history of my relationship with Emily, what upsets me the most is that fact that it all ended so soon. It’s not how it was supposed to be, and it’s not fair to Emily that she didn’t get to do all the things she dreamed of accomplishing.

When Emily was around, I didn’t have any reason to blame myself because she made my life so wonderful. But because she’s gone, I can’t help but wonder if everyone would be better off without me.

Because We Had Our Own Language

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

As I drove to pick the kids up from school on Thursday afternoon, I experienced something new: a moment of laughter mixed with grief. I shared the experience over TikTok, but essentially a fire truck started it all.

As I laughed over the memory, I felt this dissonance within my heart. I love Emily and I know she’d like to see me smiling and laughing over the memories we shared. Yet, as I think about the silly ways in which Emily and I talked to each other over the years, I can’t help but also feel my heart breaking all over again.

We Called Them “Wee Woos”

If you watched the TikTok, then you already know this. But, basically, Emily and I started calling emergency vehicles “wee woos” at some point, and the name stuck.

However, we eventually took it a step further and gave each “flavor” of vehicle an adjective to distinguish it. So, fire trucks were “spicy wee woos.” As you can guess, ambulances were “medical wee woos.” And, I think police cars were “criminal wee woos.” (We talked about that one the least often.)

I don’t know if I just haven’t paid attention to my thoughts as much lately or if Thursday was simply the first time I’ve consciously thought about those terms since Emily died. Regardless, I laughed as soon as the phrase popped into my head. I even looked over to the passenger seat while laughing, and for a moment I imagined her laughing there beside me. It didn’t last long, but it was nice while it did.

Babe Language

Wee woos weren’t the only silly words for things we had going on. Sometimes, it almost felt like Emily and I had our own little language. In certain instances, it was to keep the kids from figuring out what we were saying. But, most of the time, it was just things that started with a single silly moment that became an ongoing thing we shared.

For example, we started calling each other “babe” fairly soon after we started dating. When the kids said it was too confusing for us to both be “babe,” I started calling Emily “pint-size babe” and she started calling me “musical babe.” It was cute.

To go along with that, we had statements that probably sounded completely ridiculous to anyone else, but we knew what they meant.

  • “Babe is love?” meant the person who said it needed reassurance. The other person would usually respond with, “I love my babe!” and the person who asked the question would say, “Yay! Babe is love!”
  • “Skinny desires” was a term Emily used when her eating disorder thoughts were being extra loud.
  • “Spicy thoughts” were code for trauma flashbacks or thoughts related to a past trauma, which we both had many of.
  • “Babe is want?” was usually Emily’s way of asking if I wanted to have sex.
  • “Does babe need medicine?” or “Can I have some medicine?” was usually a sneaky way to discuss edibles. (We learned early on that saying “gummies” did not work.)
  • “Gentle cuddles” was a term Emily used when she wanted me to hold her or cuddle up with her, but not in a sexual way. Usually it meant she was sad or having a hard day and just needed me to wrap my arms around her.
  • “Toaster bath thoughts” was our way of letting the other know that we were not doing well mental health wise.
  • “Grippy sock jail” was code for the psych hospital.
  • “Babe is WAP” can probably be inferred if you know the Cardi B song. Usually one of us said it to the other when they put on an especially attractive outfit.
  • “I be a blob” meant the person who said it wanted to curl up and relax. This usually involved a blanket and, in Emily’s case, meant she was going to scroll TikTok.
  • “Bad babe!” usually meant one of us did something we weren’t supposed to, but it was usually said in a playful way.
  • “Mommy juice” was alcohol.
  • “I pop babe!” meant Emily was about to pop some sort of pimple on me. (I could write a whole post just about this.)

Song Lyrics Became Sentences

I’ve discussed how much Emily and I loved music in multiple posts at this point. However, this meant that we both would randomly burst into song. I think Emily was one of the first people in my life who matched my love of turning what people say into song lyrics, and it makes my heart happy.

Some favorites in the house included:

  • I Knew You Were Trouble by Taylor Swift (usually in reference to the cat Trouble)
  • Booty by J Lo and Iggy Azalea (if you saw Emily’s butt, you understand)
  • Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol because of Grey’s Anatomy
  • Good As Hell by Lizzo (usually when we’d ask how the other was doing)
  • I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry for obvious reasons
  • Tempo by Lizzo (often me dancing in the kitchen)

I Miss Our Special Communication

I’ll admit, there are so many things that are hard about life right now. But really, it’s little things like our ridiculous made up language that make this especially painful. You just can’t replace that level of connection with someone, and sometimes it takes longer to explain the word or phrase than it’s worth. It’s like that language we shared is just… gone.

Because of Emily, I had someone who I connected with on a level that we could communicate in so many silly ways and still get each other. And, much like our inside jokes, I miss those little conversations of lingo and lyrics more than ever.

Because I Bought Her Flowers

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

I had a hard day yesterday. The sad part is, the day itself was great. Yet, everywhere I turned, there were memories of Emily. Everything made me think of her, from 2:00 in the morning until I finally fell asleep watching television around 10:00pm. Although I definitely don’t want to forget her, sometimes it just overwhelms the day when everything causes my heart to break again.

When I woke up this morning, I told myself I would leave yesterday behind and focus on the day ahead. I have plenty of work to do, which should distract me most of the day. But, as I’m starting to learn, the universe has a twisted sense of humor… and so I quickly found my inbox filled with emails from florists, reminding me that Valentine’s Day is quickly approaching.

Thanks, everyone, I didn’t need that reminder.

Flowers Just Because

One of the many things about Emily I loved was the fact that she was very much a stereotypical girl. She loved wearing dresses and cute shoes. And, of course, she owned entirely too much makeup and loved any excuse she could find to justify spending an hour putting on a full face of it. We were very much opposites in this way, but I just found her girly ways so adorable and would often watch her in awe as she applied eye shadow or tried on dresses.

Anyway, because she was such a “girl,” she also loved receiving flowers. And, because I’m one of those hopeless romantic types who love sweeping my person off their feet, buying her flowers made me happy, too.

There were many occasions when I came home with flowers or sent flowers to her at work “just because.” Sometimes, like on our one-year anniversary, I had a justified reason to. Other times, like the Wednesday I sent them to her because she was having a bad day, I just decided to send them for no reason other than to make her smile. And that they did. Every single time.

Her coworkers never really seemed to understand the notion of sending flowers to someone because you love them. Whenever I’d send them to Emily, her coworkers would ask what I’d done wrong or what I was trying to butter her up for. And every time, she’d look at them and say, “Dude, some people just love each other and send each other flowers. She knows they make me happy.” Then she’d text me about it, and we’d laugh or make jokes about why heterosexual relationships suck.

Flowers on Valentine’s Day

I wasn’t the only one in the relationship to buy flowers. I just did it more frequently than Emily. However, she would occasionally buy them for me too, and it always made me smile.

My favorite flower story, however, is from Valentine’s Day weekend last year. Emily’s Mondays were always busy, and we didn’t have the kids the weekend before Valentine’s, so I planned a romantic date night for Saturday night. However, I kicked it off by getting Emily a dozen red roses (I know, so cliche) on Friday.

Little did I know Emily also got me a dozen roses, only she went with rainbow colored because, you know, we’re gay like that.

I’d never been in a relationship before where both people were so invested in making the other one happy. In fact, I think Emily did more in 18 months than other people did in a decade. And, it was very obvious that weekend, as we sat at the dinner table with two dozen roses in the middle, that we not only loved each other, but small gestures mattered to us both.

I Still Buy Her Flowers

Every time I’m in Knoxville, I make a point of taking flowers to Emily’s grave. Usually, it’s just a dozen roses in whatever color I can find at the Kroger I drive by on the way to the cemetery. However, I make a point to tell her about them and tell her that I love her when I place them next to the headstone.

I know that flowers die quickly, especially when you toss them on a grave. But, for me, it’s not the longevity or beauty that matters — it’s the sentiment behind why I bring them to her.

Because I love Emily, I buy her flowers. I know she loves and appreciates them because, well, she’s a girly girl. And, even though she’s not physically here to see or enjoy them the way she used to, I will still continue to buy them for her. I will never stop loving Emily, which means I will never stop buying her flowers. Because, in my mind, those flowers are one of the ways I showed her my love.

Because She Wanted A Child

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

I watched our pastors baptize a precious baby today at church. I realize this is a fairly common thing that happens, and usually it’s not that big of a deal. But, as is the case with many things lately, it just hit differently today and left me desperately trying to hold back tears and hide my emotions from anyone sitting next to me.

I spent a lot of time thinking about that moment today, trying to decide why a simple ritual brought such a strong wave of grief. It seems weird to cry about a baby getting baptized, right? Well, maybe not if you know the plans Emily and I had… plans that will never happen now.

Baby Talk

When you’re friends with someone for a significant amount of time, you learn a lot about their dreams for the future, and Emily and I were no exception to that. We both shared many of our hopes and future plans with each other, even before we ever started dating. And although I eventually want to share many of those dreams in this blog, there’s only one that’s relevant to this post, and that’s Emily’s desire to be a mother.

I knew that Emily wanted kids one day. And, because I’d watched her with my own kids and heard her talk about her nieces for hours on end, I knew that she was going to be an amazing mom when the time came for that.

But then, life took an unexpected turn, and Emily and I became much more than friends. And, as most anyone who is likely reading this already knows, I have kids from a previous marriage.

So, fairly early on in our relationship, I decided to ask Emily more pointed questions about future children because, although I knew she wanted kids, I didn’t know much more than that.

I learned that she always dreamed of having two girls and a boy. I also learned that she wanted to name one of the girls Eleanor, after an Eleanor in her family. So, because she’s Emily, she said, “It looks like I’ve got the two girls now and one of them is already named Eleanor, so my dreams will come completely true if we have a little boy together.”

As we continued this conversation, I learned a lot about pregnancy risks and issues Emily would face if she carried a child. It would have required her to completely change all of her transplant medications, which scared her more than a little bit since the medications she was on were working well. She also had concerns about how the bodily changes of pregnancy would affect her mental health, especially since she’d finally found a fairly stable point in her eating disorder recovery. And, of course, there were all of Emily’s fears related to her health in general, and how many things like her short stature, congenital heart defect, and hyper mobility, were genetic.

I told her, “We can figure all of this out. There are doctors out there who can help with the genetics, and surrogacy is a thing, so we can use your egg and I’ll just carry the baby if that’s what is safest.”

Emily liked the idea, but said if her eggs were “messed up,” she wanted our backup plan to be using my egg with a redhead sperm donor because “a redhead baby would be so cute!”

Then, it was Emily’s turn to ask the questions, and I could tell there was something on her mind she was hesitant to say. Finally, she said, “This might be weird, but how would you feel about naming the baby after my donor?”

I didn’t think it was weird at all. In fact, I loved the idea. We agreed that Victor would be an adorable name for a little boy, and settled on Max for a middle name, after Emily’s grandfather. As I explained to her, I already got to name two children, so my only request for this one was that we at least consider hyphenating his last name.

And, just like that, we had a plan.

More Plans Laid To Rest

I’ve thought a lot about the little boy we wanted since Emily’s death. After watching an episode of Virgin River a second time after the fact, part of me almost wishes I would have had the time and brain capacity to think about these kinds of things right before she went, but my mind was too focused on praying for her to live. After having people say, “You can still make that dream come true for her,” I’ve cried because I just don’t feel let it would be the same for me to have a baby on my own and name it after my dead fiancée’s organ donor. So, it’s just another part of the love story Emily and I shared that was laid to rest with her.

I think that’s why today hit me so hard. There was a baby boy, alive and with his parents, beginning his life in the church. It’s a moment I saw happening for Emily and I in the next few years. A moment I desperately wanted to experience with her. A moment I’ve never gotten to nor ever will get to experience now.

Let me tell you, it’s heartbreaking to rehash your person’s death over and over again each time you encounter something that perfectly mirrors the dreams you had for your own future.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my two children with every fiber of my being. And, I also know that Emily loved my children as if they were hers. She always did.

But, I always dreamed of more kids than two. I just thought that dream died when I had a miscarriage back in 2017. That is, until Emily came along and brought it back into the realm of possibility.

I couldn’t wait to see Emily holding a baby that shared DNA with her. A baby who would have been so loved and cherished by her, by me, and by his siblings. A baby who would have been named after the man who made his existence possible.

Because of Emily, I was completely sold on having another child. But once again, I can’t help but feel like I did something to ruin my own dreams. I’m just heartbroken over a child I never got to meet, and I can’t even turn to Emily for support… And saying that makes my heart start breaking all over again.

I’m so sorry, Emily.

Because She Was Always Cold

/ musicmaker182 / Leave a comment

Some friends invited the kids and I over for dinner last night. After we ate, all four of the kids (my two + their two) ran upstairs to play. As my friends and I sat in their living room and chatted, one asked the other, “Will you sit on my feet? They’re cold.”

I immediately started laughing, which left my friends wondering what was so funny. I then explained that Emily would often say and do similar things because, no matter what the weather was or what she was wearing, Emily was cold most of the time.

She Owned Dozens of Cardigans

It didn’t matter if it was July or December. If Emily was indoors, she was probably cold. Because of this, she owned over a dozen cardigans in various colors and thicknesses. She usually kept at least one at work, at least one in her car, and the rest lived in various places.

Although she had so many, it never seemed to be enough. She’d frequently “forget” where she put them (they were usually just buried under the other junk in her car), and I’d go online and order her more. I often laughed at how many cardigans she had, but she’d just rebuttal with a statement about them being part of her “future therapist uniform” and move on.

Needless to say, I found at least a few of these cardigans in her car when I cleaned it out after her death.

Cuddles for Warmth

As most people know, I live in a larger body. While this sometimes frustrates me, Emily had dozens of reasons why she loved it. Among those reasons, one was the warmth I provided.

In the evenings, Emily would frequently cuddle up on the couch with a blanket, then proceed to either stick her cold feet somewhere on my body or scooch her entire self as close to me as possible. She’d always say, “You’re so warm!” and I’d laugh.

I remember at least a few occasions in the fall and winter when we’d be walking somewhere in Nashville at night and, of course, she’d be cold. I’d usually cuddle up close to her to either shield her from the wind or wrap her up in whatever jacket I was wearing and try my best to keep her nice and toasty. It may sound silly, but it actually made me happy that I could provide comfort and warmth for her in those moments.

Sometimes as we nestled into bed for the night, Emily would scoot close to me. Again, she’d say the same, “Oh, babe, you’re so warm!” and smile. The only time I hated this was when she’d stick her hands inside my shirt because they were so cold!

Emily The Clothing Thief

Obviously, there was a significant size difference between Emily and I. She wore clothes so small that she could share items with my oldest child, while I have to shop in the plus size section. Although this didn’t work to my advantage, it most certainly worked in Emily’s favor because she could simply steal my clothes if she wanted something baggy and warm.

She’d frequently use my t-shirts as night gowns in the warmer months. In the winter, she’d immediately snatch up a sweatshirt when I took it off to put on pajamas, and she’d often sleep in them at night. The few times I pointed out that I’d worn said sweatshirt the entire day, she’d say, “It’s soft and warm and smells like you — I love it!”

Again, probably sounds silly, but seeing her in my clothes always made me smile. Yes, they looked huge and silly on her, but I knew that it made her happy and it made my heart happy to see her so comfortable and content.

More Things About Her That I Miss

It’s funny, I don’t think I really thought much of all these silly little things as they happened. But now? These simple stories mean the world to me. They were things that you see play out in silly romantic comedies or comic strips about the realities of marriage. So, when you put that spin on it, I think they mean so much to me because it’s just more undeniable proof that our relationship was exactly what I’d always dreamed of finding.

Because Emily was always cold, I have many happy, hilarious memories of keeping her warm that put a smile on my face more times than I can count. But now that she’s gone, I miss these simple moments more than anything.