Losing Blake's Things

Five minutes away from the Long Island airport, I realized that I left him. I had done a mental check of all the usual things I tend to forget, (make up bag, check; charger, check; shoes I wore last night and kicked under the bed when I took them off, check) but he was so obvious that I forgot the extra security clearance. As I sat in the car, past the point of being able to go back, I stared into my bag in disbelief. I left Blake Bear at my grandma's house. Cue the flood of tears.

The picture I sent to Blake on May 28th at 12:57 AM
to show him I was sleeping with the bear he bought me.
This was unknowingly sent right after he passed away

I've mentioned Blake Bear before, but never his vital place in my life. He was my last gift from Blake, which alone would make him special enough. But not only did I sleep with him the whole last week I was with Blake, he has been my constant companion ever since since then. Although I don't hide him in my purse and take him with me during the day anymore, holding him is the only way I can convince myself to fall asleep. I clutch him close to my heart and wake up the exact same way.

In the past 193 days, I have only slept without Blake Bear twice. The first time was at the end of August, when I accidentally fell asleep on my best friend's couch after my first truly happy night out. And the second was in September, when I decided to spend the night at a hotel with my parents instead of driving back to my house. When I realized tonight would have to be the third and tomorrow potentially the fourth, I had a breakdown.

I evaluated the situation in my mind as rationally as I could. I was a 25 year old woman crying over a teddy bear. And if that didn't seem silly enough, I also reminded myself that this stuffed animal wasn't even lost. I knew exactly where it was and could have someone mail it to me in the next day or two. I went over these facts again and again in my mind, trying to reason myself out of my panic. There was actually nothing to be upset over. I made it through nights without it before, I can do it again.

As I started to calm down, I realized a deeper message in all of this. The most concerning thing wasn't that I worked myself up over an object, but that I even gave an object that much power over me in the first place. I understand that the sentimental value attached to material things holds significant weight for me and many people, but does it need to?  Are our "things" essential representations of our memories and love? If I woke up tomorrow and all of the jewelry, clothing, cards, cologne, and pictures that I surround myself with to feel closer to Blake disappeared, would I still feel connected to him? After getting over the initial shock of loss, I'm positive I would answer "Absolutely."

In my purest moments of connection with Blake, it's just him and me and the feeling I get deep in my heart. Although it's always nice to smell the scent of his cologne, hear his laugh in our videos, or hug the Blake Bear he gave me, I don't need any of those things. What I feel in my heart is enough to let me know he's still with me, regardless of any object I have to remember him by. He isn't in them, he's in me. When I think about it this way, the trauma of grief seems unnecessary. This way of thinking reveals that nothing is ever really lost. Since true attachment is tied to the heart, we carry our love ones wherever we go. There is no such thing as separation when there is love.

I already know that tonight without Blake Bear will be hard. There's a possibility that I may not be able to sleep at all. But I will not think for one second that just because I don't have the bear, I've lost my connection to Blake. Although my material representations of him and our love aid in our connection, they are not the connection themselves. Eventually, I hope to get to the point where I'm beyond the need for physical reminders and can rely on just the signals I get from within. But for now, I'll continue to remind myself that Blake is not separated from me just because the bear is. And I'll wait patiently for the package to arrive.

To Blake, On Our Anniversary

Blake,
It's weird being in my parents house again. The first couple of times I came home after your death, I refused to step foot here. Without hesitation, I agreed to sleep in the bedroom in your parent's house where you passed away, but was too scared to even see this place, the house where we spent your last week together. But being here has finally started to feel ok. In fact, now that I think about it, this house is actually the perfect place for me to be on our anniversary...

Where I'm laying right now is where I stayed up all night texting with you for the first time. I remember thinking, why is Blake Norvell even texting me? Maybe it's because he feels bad for making me drive him home? Maybe he's just bored? As much as I played it off like I was only mildly interested in you at first, I was so excited that night. I was right here, in this bed, with butterflies in my stomach every time a new text came in.

And there's also the last week we spent here, your very last week on earth. I know it wasn't our most
adventure-filled trip, but it was actually nice playing house here with you while my parents were gone. We got groceries, watched movies, took care of my dog, floated in the pool, and most importantly, got to wake up and fall asleep with each other every day. That's still the hardest part, you know. I still haven't gotten used to reaching over and feeling nothing but empty space.

One year. We talked about our one year anniversary all the time for some reason. I don't know why it always seemed so significant, but we even had the presents picked out that we were going to buy each other for this day. Why did we do that? That's actually really weird haha. But milestones were important to you and that made them important to me too. Which is why I want to make sure that today is filled with as much love as I can cram into it.

I watched our videos for the past hour or so. Every single one. I know I gave you a hard time when you would insist on taking them, but now all I want to do is thank you. If I could go back in time and agree to them enthusiastically, I would. But then again, I have a feeling that at least part of the reason why you liked them so much was because of my playful resistance.

There is so much I want to write to you. My favorite things about birthdays, anniversaries, and celebrations in general, are always the cards. There's nothing quite like stringing together the perfect words to communicate to someone exactly how you feel. Most of the time the gift becomes insignificant in comparison if the emotion in the card is just right. For this reason, I want to write you the perfect note and send it up to heaven for you.

Blake, you mean more to me than you'll ever know. Not only did you teach me about true love during your life, but in your death, you also taught me about forgiveness, acceptance, spirituality, and having patience with myself. I never thought in a million years that something as tragic as losing you would somehow turn into a blessing. But it really has. I wish with all of my heart that you didn't die, but if you had to go, I feel unbelievably lucky that you left me with such incredible parting gifts.

I'm sorry this letter has bounced around from topic to topic in a not so cohesive way, but that really matches how my brain is working right now. I'm thinking of everything all at once, trying to soak it all in. I hope today is a happy day, even though I know sadness will permeate every minute of it. But I think that's ok. I'm learning that happiness isn't the absence of sadness, it's using your sadness properly. Every day, and especially today, I'm using my sadness to feel closer to you, to myself, and the world.

I love you, William Blake. Happy anniversary.

Love Forever,
Briana

More Than Enough

When Blake first met my mom and dad I was SO nervous. I honestly didn't know what they would think about him. I wasn't sure if they'd like him and was afraid they wouldn't believe he was good enough for me. After introducing my parents to too many of the wrong guys, I felt extra pressure to make sure they knew he wasn't just another one of them. 

Before we went to meet them, I was extremely anxious. I started telling Blake what to say and what not to say. Talk to my dad about computers, you'll have so much in common. Tell my mom about starting your own business, she did too. Don't talk about religion. Or politics. Or anything about rehab. Blake handled my obnoxious nagging well for the first several minutes, but eventually called me out for it. He said he was excited to meet my parents because if they were like me, they would get along great. To him, it was that simple. Then he told me it was sad that I wasn't more confident in him.

Reflecting back upon our relationship, I know I had my doubts about Blake. He had all of these incredible business ideas, but lacked the discipline to really build on them. Money seemed to always slip through his fingers. And he was constantly taking risks, making mistakes, and assuming that somehow his messes would get cleaned up by someone else. But although I had my uncertainties about Blake, I also knew that I was completely in love with him. 

And this love for him has only gotten stronger. Through stories from his friends, bonding with his family, and really taking in the lessons he taught me, I have a more complete view of Blake. I see what a light he was to so many people, the widespread impact he had, and how he truly balanced me out as a partner. The more I discover about Blake through connecting with people and looking inside myself, the more my confidence in him grows. 

Lately, and especially tonight, I feel guilty because I wish Blake experienced me feeling this unshakably secure about him while he was still alive. I've been beating myself up questioning if he ever believed he was good enough for me or truly believed that I thought he was. In spite of all of my nagging, critiques, and judging, did he actually know? I wonder how many times he looked into my eyes and saw what an incredible man I viewed his as. That although I had my doubts, I never forgot how lucky I was to have found him and how much better my life was because of his love. 

I just want him to know he is enough. More than enough.

I should have told him that every day. 

New Beginnings (A Poem)

There's something about a sunrise
like staring deep into your eyes
remembering them open wide
telling me "Baby, look! The Sun!"

Holding me is pale pink,
orange, yellow, all I think
is the colors make my heart sink
back to the hammock, in your arms.

The sky becomes a light blue
recalling sunrises with you
Are you here for this one too?
The warmth tells me "Yes."

After all the painting is done
many colors fade to just one
highlighting the beauty of the Sun:
a symbol of the new.

The Blue Heart

Somewhere in my darkest moments of searching for strength, I rediscovered the word resilience. For me, resilience meant acknowledging the weight in my heart and committing to fight each day by carrying it with respect. This pledge of resilience was sparked by a quote that I found: "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" I posted a picture of it on my Instagram with a caption that read "Resilience" followed by a blue heart and a bear.

The bear was a pretty straightforward choice because Bear was a name that I called Blake. The blue heart was chosen mainly because I remembered Blake telling me that his best friends from high school used to call him Blue. I'm pretty sure he got this nickname simply because he liked to wear a lot of blue clothing (high school boys are so creative). I also chose a blue heart because it didn't feel right to use a cheerful pink heart when mine felt so sad. I chose blue because it reflected the sadness of loss. And from that point forward, all of my Instagrams about Blake included the little blue heart emoji.

(Fast forward to a couple months later) As I shared in the post about Blake's birthday, I had a really hard time figuring out what to say to him as I sat at his grave. For several minutes I stared at the assortment of sand, shells, and sea glass that Blake's mom had offered me to give to him as a present. While zoning out, one of the dark blue pieces of sea glass caught my eye. I picked it up and noticed that it was almost heart shaped. I squeezed it tightly in the palm of my hand, brought it up to my heart, and sent a message to Blake. Finding the heart gave me the inspiration I needed to connect with him. 

After I finished, I looked over the piece of blue sea glass again and realized that it was almost the exact same size and shape as the heart already engraved on Blake's headstone. When Blake's mom and Nana came back over, I told them the story and showed how it matched up perfectly. Blake's mom thought that this must be a sign and encouraged me to get super glue to affix the sea glass to his headstone. Now the blue heart is a permanent part of it.

As I was reflecting on this meaningful moment after I got home from Blake's birthday weekend, I decided that I wanted to get a piece of jewelry with what had now become a very significant blue heart. Not only was the blue heart something I had been using all along in the captions of my pictures of Blake, but now a blue heart in the form of sea glass had popped out at me and helped me find the strength to deliver Blake a birthday message at his grave. On top of all of that, while I was searching for jewelry with blue stones, I discovered that the blue sapphire is the birthstone of September, the month Blake was born in. It was all too serendipitous and perfect.

The blue heart necklace I ordered arrived in the mail yesterday. When I wear it, I will think about the different blue hearts that have become part of my life thanks to Blake. I will think of Blake's best friends, who gave him the nickname Blue that inspired the little blue heart emoji in all of my pictures. I will think of his family, who generously allowed the blue heart shaped sea glass to become part of his headstone in the same way they have lovingly taken me in. And I will undoubtably think of the loss of my true love, Blake, whom I will carry with me forever inside of my own blue heart. 

But most importantly, when I wear this blue heart I will think about resilience, the word I vowed to live by when my connection with the blue heart first began. The blue heart will remind me that courage doesn't always roar. Resilience is not about bouncing back immediately with smiles and positivity. Sometimes bravery is a quieter determination, slow, but with consistent resolve to always try again tomorrow. 

Hindsight is 20/20

There was a pivotal moment from the last day Blake and I were together that I always think about.
                                                  _______________________

It was the last morning of our Memorial Day week together. As we were talking, Blake started nodding in and out of consciousness. At first he was alert and texting someone, but then his body slowly melted into his phone; his fingers frozen mid-movement. I yelled "BLAKE!" He stirred and then immediately went back to texting like nothing had happened.

I didn't want to brush off such absurd behavior so I questioned, "Why are you falling asleep like that?" He shot me a look that instantly had me thinking that I needed to back down or this would escalate quickly. Blake explained defensively that I knew he hadn't slept much the past two nights because of all the stress he was under. He assured me that I would be falling asleep too if I was him. He asked what exactly I was trying to accuse him of anyway? Was I trying to say he was on drugs or something?

"No..." I thought to myself that I actually hadn't been trying to say that at all, but since he mentioned it so defensively maybe I should have been. But instead I told my brain that what Blake said made sense. He was rattled by upcoming challenges and the fact that I was leaving for a whole month. This was keeping him up all night and had him worrying himself sick. Blake must have been sleep deprived. This was just his body shutting down. Besides, I thought to myself, he already went to rehab and recovered. I didn't want to ruin our last hours together so I just apologized and gave him a kiss.

When I get to the end of replaying this moment, my mind sweeps me up into a different fantasy. In this new version I've concocted out of pain, sadness, horror, guilt, whatever you want to call it, our conversation doesn't stop where it did.

When he questions me "Are you trying to say I'm on drugs or something?" I silently walk over to where he's sitting on the couch. Without a word, I sit on his lap and wrap my arms around him. When I start to squeeze him tightly I notice that his breathing becomes a little shallower and he chokes up. Before I know it he's crying, harder than I've ever seen him cry. It's like the floodgates of his heart burst open and all the sadness he's been damming up can finally rush out. Without a single word we have the conversation he'd been meaning to broach with me for months.

I like this alternative ending better because it gives me hope that he was always just moments away from letting me in on his addiction. But inevitably I pass from thinking that to feeling horribly upset at myself for never uncovering the pain that was clearly right under the surface. Maybe I was so caught up in myself that I never thought to question deeper about what was going on with him. Maybe all it would have taken is one knowing hug to help him understand that I would always love him no matter what. That he had no secret too dark for me to handle. That there was no burden I wasn't willing to help him carry.

I get lost in that for a while, allowing myself to think I could have saved him. I push it further and start thinking that if I would have cared just a little bit more, he'd still be alive.

But that's when I stop myself. Although now I know that "nodding off" is an effect of heroin use, at the time I had no idea that the two were even connected. Now I know that Blake was using, but at the time I had no idea that the state he was in at the end of his final weekend had anything to do with drugs. I can fantasize all I want about how I could've gotten him to open up and come clean to me in that moment, but in that moment I had no idea there was anything he needed to come clean about!

                       _______________________

I hope that in writing about this moment, discussing my fantasy, and absolving myself from blame that I have set myself free from it. Although this memory will probably still float through my mind from time to time, I need to remember that hindsight is 20/20. I see that moment with a completely different pair of eyes than I saw it through the first time. For this reason, I can't compare what I did and what I now believe I could have done, should have done. It's not fair to torture myself that way, so I won't.

Imagining You

When I reconstruct you in my mind I start with your feet. You somehow always managed to leave the house in your smelly, worn-out Ugg slippers. I remember on our first date to the Suns game I called you out for wearing them. You bragged that you could get away with wearing them anywhere because they looked like regular shoes. They didn't. When you misplaced them for a while, I can't say I was too worried. When you found them again you were thrilled.

Then I see your jeans. You had more jeans than anyone I know, male or female. I remember walking into your closet for the first time and seeing stacks and stacks of them. To me they all looked identical, but you had a reason why each of them was necessary and unique. Some even had ridiculous designs on their back pockets. You laughed with me about them, but you secretly still thought they were cool. You loved how nice things made you feel fancy.

I prefer to picture you in one of your shirts that I have now. Each shirt I link to a specific memory we have with you in it. This time I'm picturing you in the grey and navy blue stripped long sleeve hoodie. I don't even think we have any pictures of you wearing it because you gave it to me after I visited for the first time. You basically soaked it in your cologne so that when I left to go back to California, at least I could sleep with your scent.

I could absolutely never forget your smile. I'd say it haunts me, but only in the very best sense of the word. When I close my eyes, I see it very clearly. After you died everyone seemed to comment about your "infectious smile." What a funny word to use, "infectious." To me it made it sound like some communicable disease. In a way though, it was. Whenever I was annoyed at you, all you had to do was turn up the corners of your incredible lips. You'd start to bare your teeth and your smile would get me. How could I look at your smile and not smile myself?

Oh God, your hair. I will forever look at that yellow Got2B hairspray and think of how meticulously you styled your hair. You loved looking good in a way I never related to. You took so much pride in your hair and getting it just right. Your friends told me that in rehab they made you wear a beanie. The staff didn't like you putting such an emphasis on your hair. It always looked good though, I'll give you that.

When I reconstruct you, I'm only able to get the most general aspects of your physical appearance. I produce a very surface level image of you in my mind. And that scares me. All I can conjure up is your clothes, hair, and smile? What about the eyes that looked through me straight to my soul? The laugh that made my whole body feel warm? A voice that instantly made me feel like I was loved, adored, and at home?

Imagining you is not an endeavor I like to start. It becomes about your slippers, jeans, shirt, and hair. It becomes about the physical aspects of you that I will never get to experience again. Although being able to picture these parts of you makes me feel a little better, they aren't the parts of you that I need.

I want to protect you as you were to me. I want to hold on to how magnetically attracted to you I was. I want to preserve every sweet compliment I remember you giving me. I want to embed the sense of belonging I felt into my heart so I will forever remember how it feels to be part of someone else.

I am going to urge myself to stop reconstructing the image of you in my mind. All it does is frustrate me. Instead, I will focus on how you made me feel. The intangibles about you that made you who you were and who you'll always be to me.

If I tap into my heart, I can remember how it feels to have your love. I can recall how it feels to give you mine. That's what I need to commit to memory. That's the image of you I'll always have with me.

Preoccupation with Death

I’m so hyper aware of mortality now that I scare myself sometimes.

When I see pictures of people I know with their friends, their families, their boyfriends, I imagine what would happen if they died. I wonder how their lives would change. I wonder how they would cope.

I think about how happy they look. They’re smiling so big, hugging so tightly, laughing so hard. I think about these moments that they’ve captured and imagine them turning into precious memories. I envision those pictures becoming the ones they weep over, show people, put in a frames next to their beds. 

Do they ever think about the fact that their loved ones might not always be there? That the pictures they shared could potentially be their last?

No, probably not.

They’re very lucky then. What a luxury it would be to not have to think about death.

I really miss the days when I viewed death as an abstract concept. Something that only concerned the elderly, the ones who had lived complete lives. It didn’t make their passing any less upsetting, but there was some comfort in knowing that their “time had come.” Death was just a final stage at the end of a full life. Unfortunately, I don't think about death like that anymore. 

It's scary to know that at any moment something could happen and a person you relied on, loved, adored, looked up to, took for granted, could no longer be there. And that's it. All you're left with is the pictures you took and the memories you shared. No chance to right wrongs or say the things left unsaid. 

I guess in a strange, twisted way it's not necessarily a terrible thing to be aware of mortality. Death is, in fact, the only certainty in life. Although there is a fine line between awareness and obsession, I think an understanding of the fragility of life is healthy.

When I see pictures of me with my friends, my family, my boyfriend, I imagine what would happen if they died. I wonder how my life would change. I wonder how I would cope.

I think about how happy we look. We’re smiling so big, hugging so tightly, laughing so hard. I think about these moments that we've captured in a picture and imagine them turning into precious memories. I envision that picture becoming the one I weep over, show people, put in a frame next to my bed. 

Do I ever think about the fact that my loved ones might not always be there? That the picture we shared could potentially be our last?

Yes, now I do.

I think I'm very lucky in a way. It's a luxury to reflect on the wonderful people in my life, why I appreciate them as people, how truly important they are to me. 

I wish my mind didn't preoccupy itself with thoughts of death, but it does. It's scary, but I'm learning to push myself to see the positives in it. Maybe I will think twice about holding grudges, be more willing to say I'm sorry, forgive, give compliments, give myself completely and whole heartedly to those I love. If I'm aware of mortality, I am aware that nothing lasts forever. What's important is not to wish for that to change, but to appreciate what you have while you still have it. 

Three Months/ Our First Kiss

Today marks three months since Blake's death. How does that make me feel? Confused. When I was on the phone with his mom earlier tonight I told her it seems like I haven't seen Blake in so long, but the pain makes it feel like it happened just yesterday. On one hand it's getting harder and harder to remember him exactly as he was, but on the other hand I still live with the constant memory of him. It's difficult to wrap my mind around the amount of time that's passed because time doesn't seem to follow logical rules. His death seems so long ago, yet so current.

I wanted to make a conscious effort tonight to acknowledge three months by focusing on only the happiness Blake brought me. Since it's getting easier to push past the pain and smile, I thought I'd celebrate that. I looked through pictures and I couldn't help but laugh at some of the goofy ones we took. I picked out some of my favorites and put them together in a collage.

Going through all of the fun memories and reminiscing made me think back to how it all began. A month ago I started writing a post about our first kiss, but was unable to finish it because of my preoccupation with thinking about his addiction. Tonight, I want to honor his memory (and celebrate the progress I've made) by finishing the story:

                                                _________________________________

There's always that moment. Either you look back on it and realize its significance in hindsight or it's so special you know right in the instant it’s happening. For me, it was the latter. After a week of endless texting, meeting up, dates, and getting to know each other, Blake finally kissed me. Our first kiss was that moment.

The night we re-met, I spent the majority of the time with Blake and a group of his best friends. He was the one I knew the least out of all of them, but I always thought he was really handsome. When I asked if anyone needed a ride home from the bar, Blake and one friend took my offer. He fought to get the passenger seat and insisted his friend's house was closer and he should be dropped off first.  When Blake and I discussed this night later on, I explained how I thought he was setting this up so he could try to kiss me. 

But he didn't. Instead, he gave me an innocent hug and said goodnight. I shrugged it off as him not being interested in me after all. Even though he asked for my phone number, I assumed it was because we got along well and he wanted to be friends.

However, only a couple minutes after I dropped him off he sent me a text that said: "Maybe I was a wuss because I did not say it to your face, but I didn’t want to be a creep! But you are extremely beautiful! Thank u for the ride! I really do appreciate it!" From that point on we had a continuous conversation via text message and over the phone for the rest of the week. 

A few days later we went on a date to the Suns game and even went to a movie after because we didn't want the night to end. Yet when he dropped me off at my house, he gave me a tight hug, but no kiss. I was confused. Why was this guy who had been talking to me NON STOP for the past four days not trying to kiss me? Was I just making it up in my head that we were interested in each other? 

The night before I had to fly back to California, Blake invited me over to watch a movie. I was already out with high school friends from my grade, so I didn't know if I wanted to leave. One of my friends recognized Blake's name popping up on my phone throughout the night and called me out on it. What's going on between you two? I don't know?... I really didn't.

When I finally got in my car and had to make the choice to drive home or see Blake, I was conflicted. It was getting late and him asking me to come to his house after a night out seemed a little sketchy to me. I directly questioned his motives and he snapped back at me. He defended himself and said he had behaved like nothing less than a gentleman to me and it was insulting that I even thought that. He said if I remembered correctly, he had been waiting for me to come over since the very beginning of the night and it was me that was pushing it back later and later. He said he would really like me to come over, but only if that was what I wanted. He wasn't going to try to convince me, it was my choice and I needed to make it; the way I had been stringing him along was unfair.

Damn.

I sat in my car in shock for a few minutes. Who was Blake Norvell anyway? I thought I had him pegged as this handsome, popular guy who knew he could get whatever he wanted. I liked the idea of hanging out with him and getting to know him, but up until that point I wasn't convinced we actually matched well. But the way he handled himself in that moment caught me off guard in a powerful way. He was totally right about everything he said. 

I was expecting him to be just like every other guy when clearly he wasn't like anyone else I've ever met. I had such a fixed notion about how he was going to treat me that I blocked myself from seeing that everything he did refuted that. In that moment I felt a mix of things. Embarrassed for the assumptions I made, but also in awe of how he called them to my attention in a way that resonated with me. No one ever had that effect on me before. I swallowed my pride, admitted I was wrong, and started driving to his house.

He had this big 3D TV that he just bought that he wanted to show me. He started talking all about it and how he set it up and a million other geeky things I didn't understand. I never knew he was so intelligent. But how would I have known? I never gave him the opportunity to show me that side of him. So I listened as he explained about his days in middle school as a hacker and the e-commerce business he was starting to get off the ground. He was so much more than I initially thought he was. I watched his eyes light up as he started explaining his plans for the future and that made mine light up too.

After I noticed what time it was, I was afraid I would fall asleep on my drive home. He offered to walk me out to my car. As we hugged goodbye the embrace lingered, neither of us wanted to let go. He asked if it was ok to kiss me. I laughed. Little did he know I had been waiting for that kiss all week. But in the end I was grateful he waited because then I actually knew who I was kissing. Who was Blake Norvell? Not only handsome, popular, and confident, but more importantly for me, a guy I genuinely liked and saw as my match.

That defining moment I talked about before? That kiss was it. It was so special and we both knew it in the very instant it was happening. I knew he was going to be the man to challenge me and he knew I was the woman who was going to ground him. And we both knew we were about to bring each other so much happiness. I'm not sure how a kiss can tell you that much, but it really did. 
                                                 _________________________________

Video Tribute to Our Love

A beautiful video put together by Tiana Chavez to commemorate Blake and my relationship. 

I really needed this tonight. Thank you for being annoying and always insisting on taking videos of us. The love I see in our eyes and the pure happiness on our faces reminds me that my deep sadness is only a result of having experienced a love that was profoundly beautiful.

Forgetting You (A Poem)

I'm terrified of forgetting you.

When I close my eyes,
I can picture you next to me,
talking to me,
being with me.

When I do that it's almost like you're still here.

But this morning when I did that,
it was a little bit harder to get your exact face,
your exact voice,
your exact touch.

I looked at a picture of us to remind me of you,
but that just made it worse.
I have to look at a photograph to remember you?

My heart is racing right now.

It's only been a month and already it's harder to keep you alive in my mind.
I don't think I've ever felt more guilty about anything in my life.

Are you mad at me or is this what you want?

How could you possibly want this?