Visual Memories

Oh, Sweetie- Spoilers

River: Funny thing is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you—the real you, the future you, I mean—you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Derillium. To see the Singing Towers. Oh, what a night that was. The towers sang, and you cried. You wouldn't tell me why but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the Library. You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue. There's nothing you can do.

The Doctor: Let me do this!

River: If you die here it'll mean I've never met you.

The Doctor: Time can be rewritten!

River: Not those times, not one line. Don't you dare! It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me. Time and space. You watch us run!

The Doctor: River you know my name. You whispered my name in my ear. There's only one way I would ever tell anyone my name. There's only one time I could.

River: Hush now. Spoilers.




I am watching Silence in the Library and Forest of the Dead and thinking of just how ironic that story line truly is to me.
Those were the first episodes of the new Who reboot I ever saw. Shortly before we got engaged. Wash begged me to try the show, knowing I loved the classic Doctor from before.
I fell for Donna and her frustrations at dieting in a virtual world.
I fell for River as a strong and not helpless female character.
I fell for The Doctor, for his dedication and tenacity. 

I had already fallen for my love, my Wash, my TimeLord. 

I miss you, Sweetie. 

Wash's Words: the e-files

Trying to make myself feel better or distracted from the disturbing trigger I had this morning which sent me into a PTSD spiral of fear and paranoia.

Here is a little taste of what the Wash I knew and fell in love with (before his cancer) was like.


May 29th, 2008

10:03 PM Kevin: BSG re-imagining, so much better than the original.

10:07 PM me: bsg?

  corry, comp slow

 Kevin: It's fine. Battlestar Galactica. Hipper, darker, edgier, deeper, so much cooler.

10:08 PM me: ah never seen it

10:09 PM Kevin: You might like it... I think I have the first couple seasons lying around here. Though everyone I know is just waiting for the DVD of the last couple seasons.

10:10 PM me: don't know if i have time to add another series to my attention, but maybe an episode or two

  whats it about

10:11 PM Kevin: The last people of mankind struggling to survive while hunted by their former creations.

10:12 PM me: robots or clones or aliens?

10:15 PM Kevin: Robots... r at least they used to be.

10:16 PM There's a miniseries premiere that kinda explains it.

  And then the rest of the series raises questions about it the whole way through.

10:18 PM me: ah

10:19 PM Kevin: Plus a huge amount of interesting questions about humanity, what it means to be so, what it takes to get to there, are people with our motivations actually human....

  It's a very rich tapestry filled with iron and allegory. Rare to find in television.

10:22 PM me: hmm'

  what network was it on>

10:23 PM Kevin: SciFi

 me: mmmm

  :)

 Kevin: Might be a reason why you woldn't have watched it.

 me: prolly

  i get the good movies and mini series on dvd

10:24 PM Kevin: It's one of the best series to own... like ever.

 me: haha

  you sound like me and firefly or robin hood

10:25 PM [have to include coupling and buffy since i own the complete series of those too]

6 June 2008
                    Kevin: That you're wierd. Not the standard, not conforming. You're wonderfully                 unique, and I've never met anyone like you. Doubt I ever will.

1:18 AM me: Damn. That's like, the nicest thing I've heard all week.

 Kevin: Well, I'll endeavour to best it before the week is out.

 me: i'm telling you, i don't know how to take compliments. it still weirds me out.

1:19 AM oh gads man. i'm perfectly happy not having an ego. you don't need to help me develop it :)

 Kevin: Who said anything about ego. It's just pure, objective truth.

1:20 AM And I'm really glad to have you around. Grinning Ear-to-ear happy.

1:21 AM me: but it's a truth i cannot see, so it's hard to accept. like, an abstract concept- infinity for example

  hahaha

  i've been singing a lot more at work.

  -apparantly

1:22 AM My being around makes you that happy? Hmmm.

 Kevin: "You're not angry with me are you? You always say 'apparently' when you're really angry"

 me: You do have a nice smile, must admit

  ............ *facepalm

  i really do say that a LOT

1:23 AM my aunt nicknamed me as a kid, Miss "Apparently"

 Kevin: And thanks, Love! :D Yup, ear to ear again.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2:07 AM
Kevin: I really enjoy making you happy. I've always held back until the right woman comes along. Doesn't happen often, and when it does, it's something extraordinary.
Like now. With you.

1st July 2008

 Kevin: That I find a lot of fun, due in no small part to it being with you.

10:25 PM me: haha

  you as well

 Kevin: I Love you.

 me: i love you

10:26 PM Kevin: It's never been like this with anyone else.

  And I like it a lot.

10:27 PM me: good

  just enjoy it then

10:28 PM Kevin: That's my plan. And I cherish it so.

Pi Time

My fundraising for school is going well. I'm at the halfway point and hope to leave in about 3 weeks.
I'll have more to say on that later.

Tomorrow morning I again do my best to contact DES and have a long appointment with my Hospice counselor to talk about some of my issues leaving for Israel, leaving Wash/TARDIS "home", leaving my sweet kitties...
It's a lot.
Aelphie has been my animal companion since I lived alone as an adult. I know she is getting older, she has some grey now on her, but I still see her as my little girl. It's hard for me to think of being away from her comfort for the summer. It's hard for me to think of what she might be feeling while I am gone. To them, Wash was here and then he was gone. I don't know how to explain to them I'm coming back.
Leto, well, he's my baby boy. He is the last living connection to my husband I have. I'll never have his children, but we had Leto. He had Leto. And Leto lost his dad. The human he loved most. Now I'll be leaving him too. I'm coming back, but how will they know?

It's hard to think about. I can't help but cry. When I was so alone, the house empty but me, my family all busy with their own lives, my friends not close enough to comfort, or not able to be there... my cats were there for me. They let me hold them for hours while I just sobbed. They purred in my lap. They slept in the bed, making it feel less empty- less alone.

I'll be without them.

And I want this. I want this chance. I need to do this. I need to go.

But it hurts.
It hurts to not know. It hurts to know I will be so far away, without my support, without the few living things that love me around. I know Wash would want me to go. I know.

I'm afraid of something happening and I cannot be there.

I've been trying to work on a "normal" or regular sleep schedule, but the stress is making it hard. So much to do, but no real routine to help me function to do it.
I've been able to catch 03:14 on the clock every 12 hours for the last full week or two.
I see it and I say "Happy 3:14" or "Happy Pi minute my Love". Wash made a point for as long as he could remember to, to tell me that everyday- at 3:14(am/pm).
"This way, every single day can be our anniversary."

I miss him. I miss his voice. I miss his hugs. I miss his love. I miss his jokes- all of them, I miss him telling the stories he told over and over.
I'm not good at saying "Good-bye". I'm not. I don't think I ever will be.
So leaving is hard. Knowing it will be months before I see my friends again. My family. Being around people who love me, or my pets who do.


I apologize if this is incoherent. I am mostly just sobbing and crying tonight.

It has been a while since I have had the flashbacks, since they were uncontrolled. They are coming again. That night, over and over. The day he went into the hospital, over and over. The months of warning signs all flashing before me. The questions, always plaguing, 'Could I have done more?' 'What if?' 'Did I do everything I could have?'

The biggest one. The most evil. The one that never really fades, or really goes quiet.
"Was there a chance I could have saved him? Was there a way to avoid his cancer? Why did I not see it so much sooner? How much of this pain is mine to bear?"

The question that I will never really be able to answer; "What happens now?"

I never thought I would be a Widow this young. I'm angry, because when we got engaged, he promised- swore he would let me die first. I know it's not exactly something he could really promise, but I hate it all the same. I hate the loss. I hate the Silence now. I hate how empty my bed feels. I hate having to cook for one, not two. I hate that I am entombed with his things, his life, but not him. 
I miss being held by my husband. I miss my best friend. I miss him so much. It is more than a void, it is my own self, my own soul, broken in half and gone. Not missing, gone. Not lost, gone.
He made me better, and left.
He left me.

That hurts. "Pain" is not a comprehensive enough word for this. English has no real word for the feeling of desertion by way of grief.
I miss having a reason to smile. Something to be happy about. Someone.



There is no potion. No drug. Nothing instantaneous. No wave of a wand, or hat-trick.
Time does not ease the pain, the hurt. My wound may not bleed as much now, but time makes it grow deeper, makes it into a keloid scar- ever growing, not healing.


I was stronger with him. Better.
I just feel so small and helpless right now.
I am so very tired. I feel I should be nearing the end of my life, not the start of my adulthood.
I've lived so much already.


I miss my Love. I miss our Love. I miss being loved.

I miss being loved.

NC-17

I had a quite interesting dream this weekend. I don't feel the need to get into deep details about it at the moment, but Wash was there with and for me. I've felt a bit better overall since then, and am getting a little more sleep.

Last week at my Hospice therapy I was asked to try something for a bit; "talking" to Wash. Out loud. Not like he was/is alive or dead, just as if he was next to or near by me.

It's odd.

I do it with GaiusWash, but that is just in my head, and I know it.

What I noticed pretty fast off; I don't speak anymore. Not really. Literally days can go by without me saying physically a word to another person. I sort of wish that disturbed me more than it does.

But, back to the dream. It was filled with old comforts, symbols of happier times. I feel like there is a point to it, a message. Likely coming from inside my own head, but still important.
I cannot really describe (and I've been trying all weekend) how it feels to be dreaming of one's dead beloved spouse, and being physically close with them in a dream one is aware is a dream... and to have said dead spouse miming that it's "ok" to be close to someone else.
I honestly really have. But, there at last my vocabulary fails me utterly. Because I cannot describe the feelings or sensations, though I do recall them. I can only say it felt like having a tiny, but heavy piece of guilt taken from my heart.

It is an odd sensation to having my internal monologue interrupted by my (dead) husband. He agrees. Which, as it is coming from my own head, of course.

I still think this is a weird "coping tool". But, I said I would give my therapy a real honest attempt, so I am.


I wish I had firm big news. But, trying to make contact with a country 9 hours ahead of my time zone is a bit hard logistics wise. So, it will be Tues before I have real word.
I am nervous. There is so much opportunity for me and yet so much to take care of here in AZ in the next 4 weeks if this is to happen. Everything becomes unknown and scary. But the entire future is unknown and also scary.



I spent some time on Saturday re-reading this blog. I read it in reverse timeline; it felt like a love story with a happier ending. I know exactly how much time he had. 2009 me did not. There was more Hope in the unknown then.


I am left to question. I am left to stand alone.


It feels a little like waking up from a long, long, long, long sleep with a terrible horrid and wonderful dream I remember, and as I wake realize the dream was reality. But the exhaustion is still there, the pain, the dust and cobwebs settled down on the bed on top.
But I am slowly waking, and moving, and breathing again. Still have days of tears and sobs, but also days where I have to start thinking of my own place in society. My own personal value. What I am worth, really? What do I give? What do I leave?
I am not Buffy, Kara or Faith. I reject the idea that my gift is Death, that I am the one to lead to the End.
I am real. My life is often a mirror to the sad and horrid scripted things we entertain ourselves with, but my life is only scripted by me.
I suppose I am now realizing that I don't want it written with a short end.


Saturday I was out after end of Sabbath and walking to get some milk and eggs to bake a cake. At the same cross-street where the bicyclist had been fatally hit back in May of 2010, I was witness on Sat to another car on bicycle accident. I literally watched the car plow right into the cyclist. Honestly, with the way she hit him and how he fell, if he had not been wearing a helmet, I have no doubt he would be dead- or on the way to it. I stayed and gave the Police a statement. Then once I knew the kid was going to be ok, I continued on to get my milk and eggs. [The cake turned out wonderfully.]
I was walking and about 50-60' from the intersection corner when it happened- on my side of the street.
I just remember running towards the kid lying in the street.


Seems I can't just "turn it off", that part of me. I see someone in trouble, in need, I am the person who runs TOWARDS.
Not often, but times like Saturday night do make me reflect and wonder if I am really "done" with the medical field. I was never wanting to work on living patients anyway, and it all became too much after Wash passed. But, I can't just turn it off. I don't think I have it in me to stop helping.
Maybe his death has not pushed me quite all the way to "Evil Genius" member of the Evil League of Evil.

I am working on me. Myself. No longer a "We". The single, lonesome "I".



He was worth it. Even in pain, in tears, I never waver or doubt that.
Wash was worth it. So much more than I could give.

I still say "I love you." out loud. That much I never stopped. Not "loved". Current tense. I still tell him that before I go to sleep each night. I may not speak much, but the last words each night after my Shema are "I love you."
Whenever in Time, Wherever in Space, I love you, Wash.

Moment of Silence

I saved my "ExtraBucks" from CVS lately, and bought myself a scented candle last night when I picked up my 4 new scripts. That brings my total for the month of May at 9 scripts. I always *love* (sarcasm) spending time deciding if I need to buy electricity or medicine each month.


But. I splurged and bought a $3 candle.
And my room smells nice. Relaxing.
Reminds me of the candles Wash would buy for me/us. Reminds me of the small signs he cared.

As I was walking home from the pharmacy last night, I realized with some quick math that Wash and I had walked that same stretch at least 600 times together. Probably closer to 800.
I could see the changes, like small photographs being flipped together. Winter, summer, seasons changing. Building being torn down and built up. The first few hundred walks, and then a Ghost Rider bicycle on the corner appears on 10 May 2010.
There are flashing lights, sirens. We are escorted to the other side of the street, and decide to walk home instead of further down the street.

It is now cooler, almost "cold" for Arizona. We are walking, hand in hand as always, Wash to my right side. He is wearing his "GEEK" black knit hat. He is laughing at something. His beard is thick, and I can see all the colours in it. Reds, blondes, browns.

It is a spring night. I am holding his hand with my right, and a bag in my left carrying Ginger Beer for us. He is walking slower now, but still laughs. There is a slight breeze, carrying the spiced scents of the Thai restaurants towards us. He is excited about his upcoming Stand-Up show.

It is summer now, and hot. Blinding. No more shade. Even the birds are standing in a single file row in the 4" of shade cast from a light pole. Wash is at home, no longer able to walk with me.

The photos blur faster. Rewind. I am out of breath pushing him in his wheelchair. We are trying to get early to "Wicked", our last anniversary present. Wash is angry and yelling, I am stressed and tired. Everything feels uphill at that moment.

Backwards. It is late fall. I am tired from work and moving. Wash is tired from moving, work, and school. He stops me from my load of laundry and pulls me outside. It is November 2008. We are on our first walk through our new neighbourhood together. His hand holds my right one. He is pointing out the styles of the apartments, townhomes, brownstones around us. He is wearing his work/welding boot and walking with large steps. I have to remind him to slow down, I cannot walk as fast.

Time ceases to be linear in my mind. It is past and present at the same time. Blank spots for the future. Images imagined of what could-have-been, what should-have-been.

He throws his head back, his neck long and scruffy with red tinged hair. He laughs. He smiles.
He leans closer and kisses me. I am flush with warmth.



I am home. The street is dark. The trees and front flowerbed across the street are gone, along with the kind older woman who tended to them daily, and spoke often to me about plants and gardens. The lights in front of my complex are different, installed a few years ago. The tree in our front yard is missing the large branch that a storm blew into my neighbours' bedroom window three winters ago.
Everything is different, and the same.

But I am now walking alone. The feeling of Wash holding my hand fades.


I walk inside my home. No longer "ours". He is gone. His welding boots are still on the shoe bench by the front door.

I light the candle. The scent takes me back in time again. I eat, I take my pills. I try to sleep.
I snuff the candle, but the smell hangs in the air, light, and comforting.


I am awake now. It is dark, still nighttime. I am hearing shadows of voices. Male? Female? Faint, but untraceable. My house is empty save for the cats and me.
I go back to my dark bedroom and hug Hoban tight. It is faint, but he still smells of Wash. The stuffed bear hold many hugs, and a small stuffed heart kissed by my Love when we had the bear made.


For the first time in weeks, I sleep.
I sleep, and I am thankful I do not dream.


The room is silent now, save for the typing and fans. My candle is lit again.
Tears are falling while I write.

There is a sense of emptiness. The last exhalation before a gasp and holding.
There is Silence.

I am Alone.

There is only physical self. Gaius-Wash is silent today.

Happiest Pi day of my life

If Walls could talk

I bought myself an Anniversary card. One that I thought Wash might have chosen for me.

I think this is going to be the hardest week/anniversary to deal with before this coming Sept.
There is a big part of me that just wants to curl in a ball under my covers with my kitties and cry.
There is also a part that knows time will pass on.

6 months since he died tomorrow. Half of a year. Autumn and 'Winter' [well, AZ winter].
I have extra Xanax for this week, I talked to my doctor about it back in Feb.

I'm so sad, and so angry at the same time.
We never even got one year of marriage without cancer. We never got to have even one anniversary "normal". Without cancer, or the threat of death hanging over us.
I'm mad and sad.



Wash used to create. He would make me things; goggles, watch-chains, a Cryptex (my engagement present) leather pieces. Mini models. Stories. Sketches.
There will never be any new things like that from him ever again.

The card is from me. To me. In his name and memory only.


I wanted more. I was not ready. I am not ready.
It is too late now.
14 March 2009 was the top. That was the happiest Pi day. The day where anything and everything in our life together was possible.

We should have been two joined families. It's too late now.


6 months tomorrow. Should have been our 4th anniversary in 4 days.

Victoria & Albert

I've spent the last 7.5 hours cleaning upstairs.
My bedroom has not been this neat since 2009.

I so far have one 30gal bag filled with things to donate, a bunch of books to shelve, and three 30 gal bags of trash to go out.
I've also done 3 loads of laundry so far, and have one more to wash and two loads to dry tonight. I have decided to take a break tomorrow and do stuff downstairs; clean out my fridge and wash dishes.

I hope to clean out my closet/our closet/the clothes closet before I leave on my trip in a week.

I don't know yet how I feel about this. I'm making a lot of progress towards making a house that I can function in, but I have now changed almost everything that Wash had made, touched, set, designed. His "touch" is not really here anymore.
I still have some of the things that were important to him up, and put up a few more of the notes he wrote for me.

I wish I was in a position to act like Queen Victoria, and not change a thing after Albert died; even setting out a place for him at the table and his daily clothes.
But, I can't. For many reasons from the mental to the rationally practical.
So, it's time.
I still don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going, but for the first time since he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I'm thinking longer than 2 weeks ahead. I don't know what it is, but I can at least, on more days now that not, see that there is *something* for me.
Little changes, cleaning and organizing needed, and slowly, I'm hoping to start figuring out my life on my own.

Leto seems to be confused but interested in the changes. Aelphie is in the bathroom because the vacuum and things moving scare the shit out of her. She's a lot like her mum.


I think I'm just not processing it yet. I did it physically, but mentally, I'm leaving it to Future Tashi. I made sure to keep stuff I was not certain if I was ready to part with yet; but I've put most of that away, again, to go through when I'm mentally stronger.
The bedroom was pretty bad, because it was where Wash spent so much of the end of his life, and I could not bring myself to change much of anything.
But, I cannot live forever like he is still dying. Or imagining he is coming back. He's not. Ever.
My husband has been dead now for five months.
Dead.

I hate myself for how that word becomes easier to say. It's still hard, and I stumble a lot, but I don't avoid the word anymore.

I'm still not stable at all, financially. I need help. I finally feel though, like I might be able to do something again. I'm not certain what, but it is progress from only seeing myself in bed, crying until I pass out.

Widowhood

Everything hurts and I just want to wake up to this whole thing being a dream.
How can he be gone? It doesn't feel real.

I've been crying all day. Nothing feels real. It can't be that my husband is now in a box.
It all hurts. Breathing even.
I want to not be sad. I want my husband to hold me. I want a kiss. I want him to embrace me and just be there. Be here.

Nothing makes sense.

Smiles

Ending my day with a nice note.

I finally found the storage drive that Wash had loaded all our photos on. I have not seen it since early 2009.
So, I found a lot of wonderful photos that we took in 2008 when we first met and got engaged.

Before the cancer.

Very different smiles than at the end of 2009.

It felt like seeing the person I knew and fell in love with all over again. Without actually having him around this time.

It's bittersweet, but right now I have to hold onto every memory.
Remember every smile, every laugh.
Remember how much he said he loved me.
How he said he was happy.

How we planned to spend the rest of our lives.

I go to bed every night hoping to dream of him.

Hide and Seek

-My birthday was fine. I will write about it later.
-My foot is finally after approx 12 weeks, no longer broken! The Ortho cleared me, and my last Physical Therapy session is this Thursday


As far as the rest goes...
I have been in a very deep depression. Getting outside to get physical activity in every day, some days I will even speak to other people or clerks. But, I'm not really "getting out" and I'm not really going to gatherings or parties, because my anxiety kicks in overdrive at the thought of being out, and breaking down in front of others, or "ruining" something [my phrase, not anything anyone has said to me, I want to be clear.]or making my friends uncomfortable.

I'm hoping that with a bit more time, my medication will kick in a bit more and I will start to feel better.
I need to see someone, professionally.

It's painful to wake up literally crying. Or, sobbing so hard in my sleep it wakes me.
I'm getting physically sick now some evenings when the panic and memories set in.
I'm having more flashbacks, visions I cannot control.
I keep seeing certain days, certain events over and over and over.
Some mornings, it feels like my body is literally frozen in place for 30-60 minutes and all I can do is see these images and hear those voices and words and cry.
I need to deal with this.

Around the mid to end of last week I noticed a new trend; not really having emotional "ups and downs", more like a numbed baseline, and then moments of wrecking sobs.
I've been watching old horror movies that terrified me as a child now, hoping to feel something. I haven't.

A few more nightmares, unrelated to the movies, mostly it feels like I dip into a parallel word, things are not fully the same, and sometimes Wash is there. Sometimes, it is other things.
Things that I don't have words for in any language I know.
But, I don't have fear. Not "fear" in any sense of the word to my own self; no terror at the thought of my own end. So, there is a knowledge that
*I am dreaming
*I am hunted, by something
*I am not afraid of anything that can happen to me

It's odd. Everything feels odd in real, waking life.
I keep expecting to see Wash. Downstairs, in another room, somewhere.
I wake up and the bed is large, empty, and cold. My brain screams at me that it is wrong, it is SO wrong that nothing can be real. Everything feels surreal when I am awake now.
Numbness. Numbness, and a pain so deep it transcends the physical world.
What is physical pain to this?

I know my friends are trying to help, trying to support. I know my family is too; they showed it to me in heaps for my birthday.
I know you, Dear Readers, leave me such nice and encouraging messages and in a way, it does help.

But I know, I need more. This is not something I can do alone. Wash is not around to give me strength either.
Making those calls into such such SUCH a shitty insurance system, most especially for the adults with mental illnesses, it is hard. I tried it before, too many times.
I tried it right after Wash passed and I was told 2-3 months to wait before they could even have me see anyone. That, was not really helpful.

I have no way to afford to pay out of pocket for a good professional, who has experience in grief, loss at a young age, PTSD.
Magellan's history of treating patients in Arizona is not stellar, by far, but it is literally my only option right now.

So, that's about where I'm at, almost 7 weeks after --
I don't even know what to write. After he died? After he passed? After my heart stopped? After I lost my world?

The courser blinks at me, patient to my numbness and the slow pouring of words from the churned emotions inside me to the screen.

Goodnight, Dear Reader, and stay safe.

Lisa Simpson (TM?)

Spending my day with cats cuddling in my lap and watching wonderful movies (Director's Cut where applicable) based on books or graphic novels I own;
*Manhunter based on "Red Dragon" by Thomas Harris
*V for Vendetta based on GN of same title by Alan Moore & David Lloyd
*Watchmen based on GN of same title by Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons
*The Dark Knight based on Batman The Killing Joke by Alan Moore & Brian Bolland (with reference to The Dark Knight Returns graphic novel, which I also have)


Showing my geek side today.
Wash loved me in part for this(the geekery), and I loved him back for it.
Sometimes the most powerful moments happen due to Art.



Seeing "Watchmen" in the theatre with him was one of the best moments we had.

Cannot erase our love

Small Photo break today.

I see these Post-It notes he left every day. I see them, read them, and remind myself of his words often.

I have been feeling hurt, angry, and rage filled lately at the opinion of some who by all seeming means, are literally trying to erase me from my husband's life.
Erase what we had.
What he did for me, what I did for him.
Erase the last years of his life.
Erase his happy smiles.

I am angry, because to me, Wash's love for me was just so obvious. Hopefully as my love was to him.
Clear and ever present.
He was the best thing to happen to me, and often said I was the same to him.
That cannot be taken away.


Love find ways to stay, even if the person who loved is no longer around.
His words are. His message. His intent.
His love.

***********************************************************************************

"Future me:
Be excellent to Tashi Today!
Past me"

"Is it possible for me to love my wife... more than I do?
I do hope so."

"Tashi, you deserve far more than what I have to offer. But I'll give you what I can for as long as I can.
Because I love you.
Wash"

I'm No Gandalf

He's not 33 either.

But, Happy 28th Birthday Dearest Wash.

I love you.

I'm so glad you made it this far.

May every day feel like a birthday for you.

The Note

Family and Friends,

It's been a little bit since the last real update on Kevin past his entering into Home Hospice Care this January.

It's been a rough few months with many new challenges, but also quite a few wonderful moments, new memories for us both, and a wonderful outpouring of "geek" support for my beloved Browncoat.

Kevin is having a lot more issues right now, which is the nature and course of his disease. Before he went into Hospice service this year he had made it well known he was not interested in more chemotherapy when his brain tumor(s) came back; he wanted the best and happiest quality of life he could have for as long as he could have it. I have done my best to honour his wishes and with some wonderful support from around the world, I have been able to keep him at home and mostly comfortable. He does not consider this to be "giving up" or "not fighting"; he is working with his grief towards acceptance of the end course of his disease. Please know that the intent of this message is only to give you the opportunity to get some closure both for Kevin and for yourself. To give you the knowledge and awareness that despite our best efforts, an immense amount of prayers and well wishes, the love and support of our family and friends, and the best advances that medical science has to offer, he is not going to get "better".

We are losing Kevin, day by day, and the course is set and tragically unchangeable. I would have you know that, and have the choice about how you would like to handle saying your goodbyes. We also want to pass along that the window for saying your goodbyes is starting to close more quickly now so if you wish to visit or call or write, you should immediately start making those plans. Since stimulation has a direct line to his exhaustion and fatigue please take directly to me if you are out of State and would like a longer visit (over a period of a few days).

I am asking those who are local to try if you can to come for a day/evening visit or even a phone/Skype call. He is still able to enjoy things, and his personality still shines through on most days; but he is having more days where he does lose "himself". This is common with brain injuries/cancer. He may recall you and every detail from the last time you were together, but also be aware he may not really recognize you or how much time has passed between events. If he is not upset over this, or seems to be in a time period from when he was younger, that again is just part of his disease. For now we suggest day/evening visits be kept to 1 hour or less, unless details have been discussed with me prior. Some days he may like to go out for burgers, or to see a movie - and he has a wheelchair if he needs it on those days, and others he may just enjoy a short game or talk at home.

I will do my best to address any questions you might have.We both thank everyone for the continued kind thoughts, wishes, and prayers.

Tashi Pratt-King

Please visit www.savewash.com for more information on Kevin and Glioblastoma Multiforme brain cancer.

As befits a TimeLord

I suppose I should be more shocked at the response we've gotten in the last few days. Geeks and lovers of specific shows bond hard it seems.

I'll get to some questions in a moment.

Wash has been holding steady the past few days. Physically he has been a bit more run down for some reason, we were not even going out on a walk to the mailbox together, he's just been physically tired lately. I did get him and Leto outside to watch me garden the other day, but he was too tired to even read out loud then, just watch and look at the green oasis I have made in the back.

I did later last night get him out for a small walk around the block. His first real physical activity in about 3 days. He crashed out before midnight and is still in bed now, trying to disappear under the covers.

Mentally he has been fairly present and even this week, though again, I've noticed him not reading words as much- he's switched over from some short novels to a comic series now. I notice these things, but I'm not really sure how aware he is of them. This is the unpredictable portion of the predictable cycle of brain cancer.

And speaking of, to every single one of you who has read our story, shared our story, or donated in some way; thank you. I literally could not give him the highest quality of life *I* can without all of you.

As to the TARDIS; we actually DO have a TARDIS cookie jar! I got one for Wash for giftmas back in Dec of 2010. We tend to keep Jammie Dodgers in it and it frequently is moved about downstairs. Wash does not want the plastic, or the memories we have of the cookie jar fucking me up after he's gone.

We have received about a dozen offers so far from folks willing to do a ceramic urn for Wash; he is trying to look through portfolios and decide which idea he likes the best. It is his decision, and I will do my best to thank every offer we have received personally- a small thank you for all the wonderful woodworkers who have reached out as well.

We are in touch with April from Regretsy to choose the final urn, and Wash again thanks every single artist who has offered to help give him his wish of a resting place.

It can be overwhelming sometimes to be this young and thrown into a situation like this, and I would not have made it this far and long were it not for the oftentimes unconventional support.

Wash and I are Browncoats too, and I think he has really seen just how many people he has around to carry him when he can't even crawl.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wash also says if anyone wants to or can get in touch with The Grand Moff [Stephen Moffat] or Nathan Fillion he would be happy to get some kind of dying-geek shout-out from his idols.

[Thank you to R. for the most excellent photoshop on the pic. I frakkin' LOVE it. Someone tell Wil Wheaton we're saving Wash now, not Ferris]

3.14159

My husband,

I love you.

Happy 3 years of living our vows, every day.

We've gone through the shit, and we have had a few glorious moments which I can hope I will never forget.

We have had our days and even short weeks of triumph and an even more precious bond.

You still make me laugh. You still teach me things, every day.

You introduced me into a world of new adventures, new images. You taught me what "Steampunk" was (and was NOT), and you welded me a throne- "For my Queen" you said. I still have it, and will as long as I live.

You crafted me matching Steampunk Goggles to your own; but with all the details for me.

The "something blue" from our wedding is kept inside the Codex you made.

You introduced me to the 9th Doctor, and in turn I showed you the 8th, and who *my* Doctor was growing up. We enjoyed laughing at the humour of Tom Baker together.

After our first real and proper date you had my heart when you said you would be happy to just to watch "Serenity" with me- no pressure for anything more than sharing a love of Joss. We did.

You showed me what the Firefly RPG was. I showed you my film collection and musicals; you had me laughing my pants off at your Jeeves & Wooster collection.

You introduced me to so many mediums of Science-Fiction I did not know existed. We bonded over shared hobbies, and you introduced me to some shows and writers I aspire to be like. You introduced me to strong creative women like Jane Espenson, Marti Noxon, and Cherie Priest.

I introduced you to my favourite female authors like Syne Mitchell and Laurie R King.

You were fine and happy that we proposed to each other.

You loved having a bride who wore a Red, not White, dress.

You wore a kilt for me.

We had two days of Honeymoon looking at Steam Trains. My heart was so big to see how happy you were around those engines and steel and steam.

You worked for me, while you could. You wrote for me.

We shared books, and stories.

You had me read "Watchmen"; and we both took a love story from that. Never knowing then how true it would really be.

You respected how having Aspergers' makes me- different. My "death shadow" never scared you. You were interested in learning about what I was in school for. You were not scared that I was around dead humans. You were proud of the work I did. You told me often.

You made me feel that even though it was often confusing, I could in fact, love that deeply.

You helped me to understand my feelings, understand what the stimulus was. Understand the motivation that falls in line with what we consider to be "unconditional love".

You built me a garden. Twice.

You took me to 'Cons. You gave me the chance to meet some of my favourite actors and idols.

You spent years bonding with my cat, even when she was not nice at all.

You care. My Wash, you care.

You have always been supportive of who I am, what I love, and what I care about.

You give me the motivation and inspiration to always be better, to be patient, to be kind, to be loving.

You are the person I want to touch as I fall asleep every night. You are the person I want to speak my last words to every night, "I love you".

You push me to keep living, every day.

Even in the bad times, you are still my best friend.

I will take happily every day I am allowed to wake up next to you, my love. For however long we get.

Happy 3rd Wedding Anniversary.

Whatever I do for you, I can hope it is a reflection of the love you have given to me.

Thank you for these 3 years of being my husband.

Thank you for being my Wash.

I love you.