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. 

Happiest Pi day of my life

DST

6 months.

like healing from a heart transplant that did not happen.


I can walk again, catch my breath most days.

But it feels like being post-surgical. I'm still walking around with a giant hole inside of me.
Like a much much MUCH poorer (and probably sadder and lonelier) Tony Stark.

 Everything is different but it feels like so much has remained the same.



I miss my husband. I miss his company, his jokes, his kisses, his hugs, his laugh, and I miss my best friend.
He was.


I don't have that with anyone anymore.

I do not bore of the company of myself, but I do not wish to remain alone for 360 days a year on say, the Isle of Skye or Mann. That is not a life for me either.

It is quiet here. Disconcerting to me.

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.

Shabbat Shalom!

I have some melancholia in my bones today.

Are anniversaries still something to bring up, to celebrate, if there is no one to celebrate for/with?

My wedding anniversary is next week.
Pi day, of course.


I'm a widow. Am I allowed an anniversary, still? What, if anything is there to celebrate? My husband's death? I'm not that morbid.
The 6 or so weeks of marriage we had before the tumor grew so big it began to change him?
The few months we took to secretly plan an elopement?

Celebrating dreams and ideas that will never happen? The home never built. The children never to be born.



The cats and I have decided staying in bed and crying is the best move.

It doesn't seem real today. That he is gone.


Tomorrow is Sunday. That was his Gaming Day.
Too many memories today of loss.
Too many.

Vague

I woke up this morning feeling weird and off. Neither cat slept with me; Leto enjoys his "perch" of the cat-bed on top of the laundry hamper.
The work comes along, slowly.

I ran into my landlord's father the other day while I was taking out the trash. English is perhaps is 3rd language, but he came over and gave me a hug and said he hoped I was well and they loved me as a tenant, and loved my backyard garden, and they (his wife and his kid, my landlord) missed Wash; he was a good person.
It was a nice reminder and good to hear.

My neighbours behind me have taken up on my style and have put up solar lights exactly like mine in their backyard and hanging from their shade/covering. I take it as flattery; my place looks lovely in the evening, and they must have appreciated it.

I had to take today off of really sorting or organizing. After doing the bedroom yesterday; perhaps the most emotional thing, it was a bit much.
Also a shirt of his I found at the bottom of the hamper under the canvas liner. I thought I had emptied the hamper months ago, but that shirt escaped me.
The pillows only faintly smell of him now, but that shirt was like the scent right around his collarbone, the smell I chase in my dreams. The smell that reminds me that when I wake if I keep my eyes closed I can pretend for a second or two longer he is not gone. That one.
It's only been a little bit of sobbing today. Thankfully. Nothing keening or racking.


There is an oddness and stillness within the house. I have to say house, because it does not feel correct to say "home". I've lived here longer than any other place as an adult, but without Wash, it just does not feel like a home. Home ceased being singular to myself (and Aelphie to a degree) when we got engaged and moved in together. I knew many many years ago that with the way I live and prefer to live, and can function... it is not something that is really compatible with the way the vast majority of people prefer to live. I lived on my own, by myself since I was 17. I moved in with Wash right around my 22nd birthday. He was the first person I ever could see myself or could consider moving in with. He accepted me, completely and totally. We had our growing pains the first couple of months, myself getting used to living with someone else; even thankfully under the fulfilled condition I laid out of needing a place with two bathrooms. He had always lived with other people. Wash was an extrovert and someone that I think was easy to love, easy to live with- for the most part. The incidents and adventures he had with all his roommates were told in the form of happy stories, jokes, things that might make myself twitch and scream, but he would only laugh at. That was Wash.
So it quickly became home with Wash. We would be married. If we moved for school for either of us, we would still be together, in a home, even if it was in a dorm room. That was the plan. We could handle renting places for a few years, get established, we even agreed we could deal with a child while renting for a few years before wanting to have our own [SF] home. Wash, being the Architect, had of course already filled two or three notepads with his designs for our future home; how it would be built, the material, the layout, how he could even expand additions on to it for office space, or workshops, or extra guest or children's rooms. He designed a greenhouse for me as well; he wanted me to have the garden of my dreams.
Home became wherever we were together.

Sometimes, often, I talk to his TARDIS urn. Probably at least once a day still. I never expect nor receive any contact back. It is not the same though. It is not his energy that is left around. His things, his memories, my memories, but not his energy.
Once we moved in, once we said our vows, it was to the end. To death.

He promised he would let me go first. He did not often break promises. He really was a 'man of his word', but that time, he broke it.
I did not ask much from him, but told him that I did not want to live out my life waiting to die after him.

I am happy for the recordings I have. For the videos he left for me. The cards he gave me long ago, the notes I still find around the rooms, tucked in books.
There are still days, many day, where I wish I could call his phone and hear his voice. Where I wish I could hear which messages he saved of me telling him I loved him. All of them? Many? I wish I could hear that voice. I wish I could understand why his phone service was shut off the day after his death.
He was not on my plan, but had his phone from his days long long ago in California.

It does not feel like 2013.
It does not feel "right". Things are changing. Some against my will or wishes, some things instigated by me for my own good.
Some nights it becomes about the simplest of things. Remember how it felt to hold hands.
Remembering what it was like to be lying down and staring right into each others eyes. He had soft, wonderful eyes. Happy, large, clear eyes. He was often smiling, but his eyes held most of his expressions.
I remember the texture of his beard. The colours in his hair. The shape of his ear and neck. How his hips drew in just slightly but down to firm thighs and great legs- be it a bit pasty.

He loved to bother me by surprising me in the middle of something to quickly give my nose a wet kiss.

I've moved my pocket-watch to the bedside table. The soft ticking is comforting. It reminds me of Wash, of his heart-beat.

I have to check the office closet, but it looks like I'm missing some key pieces to my bed frame. This now is a bit of an issue as I'd like to sleep off the floor now that Wash rolling or falling out of bed and hurting himself is not an problem to consider.

Time does not make it easier. Not at all. Time reminds me of the future I/we had imagined.
2013 was the point where he should be done with school and into his Apprenticeship. 2013 was going to be my point of finishing my undergrad triple, or starting grad school with a specific major. 2013 was going to be the year we started to make solid plans for long term; looking at careers, looking at places to settle, to build our home, a place with good school for the kids we wanted to try to have in a couple years.
It's not, though. 2013 is the year I'm a widow. It's the year I won't be traveling to Taliesin with Wash for his school.
2013 is the year that I wonder if I will have an anniversary; does it still count if the other party involved is deceased? Is it still my anniversary, or was it my/our anniversary?
2013 is the year I travel alone, because I am alone now. I don't have a husband, a companion.
2013 is the year I wonder if I can watch the shows I/we loved, without it being too painful to enjoy.
I'd like to catch up on Doctor Who, but I literally don't know how without him. It feels as wrong to me as waking up alone in my bed. Same thing with Blood and Chrome. It is hard for me yet to figure out how to enjoy something when all my mind can think of is how much I wish my husband was not dead to see it; to have his fanboy and geek heart enjoy something. Because he lived for certain shows. He loved me, this I know. But he lived for the moment Kara was screaming from the brig "YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!"
He lived to text me "Morning, Starbuck. What do you hear?"


I miss having an (amateur) astronomer as a partner. I miss being woken up for 15 mins to walk outside to enjoy a full moon directly overhead. Large, and bright.
I miss that on evening walks, he always knew the stars and planets.


It's only been 5 months.
I still miss the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

Goodbye, Lee.

Missing my husband very very very much today.
It's one of those 'I can't stop thinking about his last day alive' kind of days.

Any spare bit of love, or support you can send towards me today is most appreciated.

01.20.09

I've been awake for about an hour.
It just hit me.

The last time I saw this, the last Presidential Swearing-in, Wash was still alive. We were watching history being made together, and how excited and happy we would be to tell our children about getting to witness that day.
We were about 6 weeks away from getting married.
Wash was in school, and had a "brings in money" job, and a better one lined up after we got married and came back to AZ.
I was still working full-time. I saw myself being able to go back to school to finish my own degree in a year or two from that point.

Neither one of us thought in any way, at all, that he or me would not be there just 4 years later.

We thought that it was the start of a new wave of Hope and Change, but it turned.

4 years ago this day, we thought anything was possible.
Now, it's just me.

One "term".

I'll most likely be crying a lot today.

Con Te Partiro

I made it through Thanksgiving. (The American one. Canadians did it first, a month ago.)


I spoke to my parents and brother, and went over to the Fraternity brother's dinner.
I ended up helping to cook and clean. It was good, kept myself busy and distracted. I enjoyed several moments. I did not even cry until I came home.

I am thankful Wash had a good sense of people. He truly made some wonderful friends in his life who have "adopted" me in a way.
It helps a lot.

Most of my very small group of friends is no longer local. Some that are decided shortly after Wash became ill to just... abandon us. "Come get your stuff you loaned us or I'm throwing it away!"
Suddenly, no more friends to help plan weddings.

No more local friends Graduating.

I cannot stand to be around pregnant or new children yet. The happiness and joy they produce feels like mortal pain to me.

Wash wanted something very specific and Doctor Who related to be done before his memorial service.
I have the supplies. I just cannot bring myself emotionally to do it.
"The Impossible Astronaut"

Except my Time Lord does not come back. There is no second chance. There is no way to cheat Death, not in a long-term.


His TARDIS urn is in the same place. It does not feel like *he* is inside though.
I look at it, and it is beautiful. It is art. It is love. It is Form and Function.

But my Love has become Stardust.

The Memorial is set. Invitations sent, plane tickets bought, pies being made.

This is the hard part. Not watching him in the hospital NuICU, not the wait of the two brain surgeries, not the fights for insurance. Midnight hours of vomiting and pain.
The moments he looked at me with just a little hesitation, willing himself to recall.
The anger. The fights. The physical pain.
Sleep deprivation. Going hungry to keep him fed.
What seemed like a steep climb was no more than an anthill.

This is my Everest, my Kilimanjaro. The 'After'.
The 'Alone'.

The Silence.

Such silence.


He was my best friend for 4 years. My husband for more than 3.
When he became sick, I became his memory.
He told me everything. All he could recall. His feelings. His jokes, and his pain.
I feel like there are two people living in my brain now.
I can hear myself, my inner voice. My Asperger brain continues to think, to ponder, to calculate.
Yet, at the same time, I can always hear him. Sometimes his voice is his, sometimes his words are my own voice. I look outside at my Throne he made for me, and I can remember his descriptions of how he built it. I can remember the nights, his clothes, the smell the welding burns. I can see all the sketches he drew of it, start to finish.
I watch a show; something new or something we have enjoyed before, and I can hear his commentary in my head. I can see his face light up at seeing his favourite actors, yet he's been gone two months.
I look at buildings and architecture like I never have before. I care because of him.

I have not been able to watch any new Doctor Who or Fringe yet.
I wish I was strong enough to. It is overwhelming. Like experiencing emotions from two people at the same time. I wish I could not just recall how much he loved those shows; I wish it did not hurt so much to continue with them right now.
Sensory and emotional overload.

He gave me such love.

He worked so hard to love me, to help show me not to write off all of Humanity.
I don't think there will ever be anyone like him again, not in the ways he was special.
Wash taught me it was possible though. Even at 6 Billion to 1 odds.
6 Billion in my mortal lifetime.

I ignore the probability, to hold onto the possibility Humanity might have someone like him again. The probability is I will not be alive to see who it is, but there is a possibility it can happen again.

My Love is over, in the living sense.


The world does not stop. It cannot. Not for one death. Not for one person. Society would not function unless we had to move on, forget.
But, the world moves, I still have not.
I have no career to go back to.
I have no children to tend or raise.
I have no interest in spending time trying to find a school to give me loans, to finish a degree I won't use.
I have no decades of memories and life to comfort me.
I have no idea what I would even want to do now, with my life, with a long future.

Half the people in my life are telling me to take time for myself right now, go slow, heal myself first.
Half the people in my life are telling me to start moving on, get a job, go finish my degree, move homes.

That's the one thing the WashVoice in my head stays quite silent about. 'Where do we go from here?'

Nothing but the silence of time, space, all eternity.


Mortality is so fleeting. I cannot comprehend setting aside literally one day to "give Thanks".
I had love for 1575 days with my husband.
I was thankful for every one.
I am thankful we made a point to tell each other every day and every night before we fell asleep that we loved each other.
Every night.

We are fragile. We are flesh. We are not forever, like the wind or Silence.

Yet, the chance is there. Another body, another life, another chance for that Love.

Struggles

Redbox is giving me a free rental tomorrow.
Going to see Cloud/Atlas with my mum.
Eating dinner with my family at my favourite Mexican food restaurant.
Going bowling after.
Birthday pie.

I am going to try to enjoy it.

In truth, I am struggling a lot with stopping my brain from just constantly re-living the 25th, 26th, 27th of October 2009. When we found the tumor. When my life changed completely, and my world stopped on its axis.
When my future and dreams were stripped away by a connected group of rogue cells 9cmx5cmx3cm.

Tomorrow will be my first birthday as a Widow. My first birthday without my husband.

Today is even one minute at a time.

I have some great friends who sent me a LEGO set and Fringe. 

If anyone is wanting to send me a little "birthday" something, I do have a amazon wishlist, or the Fundly Site is still running for another two weeks. I do still need to figure out some monetary needs for his memorial service, and to cover back the cost of his body removal/cremation. Not surprisingly, his family did not help with that. Thankfully, we found a place to take care of it as "cost" so it was only a bit over $600... but as I still have not even received my $225.00 "funeral" settlement from Social Security...  there are stresses. 

Now is not the time to talk about those issues though. That just leads me to a place of hurt, anger, and betrayal. 

I've been painting a bit more, trying to take a walk each day, get myself out of the house and bed.

I'm starting to forget what he smelled like. 

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.

Civic Duties

Not a Bus Strike or brain cancer can keep Wash and myself from our Civic duty to VOTE.

If I don't participate in the Electoral process, how can I even think to voice outrage or support?

In other news, I have awesome friends. Some girl friends got together to get me a nice tea brewing set inside the mug (with lid!) AND- they got me motherfrakking compostable tea for it! This is how I know they know and love me; not only the tea, but they know I love gardening and got me tea that would serve me well after I drank it. I am in love with my MFCoAW.

Also, some friends of ours (Roseanna, Hi!) sent us the coolest gift set; soaps from the oldest apathocary shop in the US! Wash got a set of soaps that former Presidents used! (scent wise, not a old used bar.) So, he can now smell like Washington, Ike, or Kennedy! I am fascinated by the history of it, and the scents are really nice too! Wash is adoring the idea that he smells like a former President.

We are both excited for tomorrow. 3 years married. Considering everything we have overcome together, I think it is amazing. Some days I feel like we have packed 3 decades into 3 years, then again, we have to.

Wash is getting some help in the afternoon to make dinner for us. I'm still hoping for some cool things in the mail for him, and still hoping on the off chance he will get a "Firefly" type congrats. A big part of why he has fought against this cancer (that he really can't "beat") has been for me. Much like everything that I do for him, for his smile, for a memory he can remember; he has fought to stay alive in part, for me.

He sees something so special and good in me, he has fought death to stay by my side this long.

I think that is a pretty special gift for any day, let alone our anniversary.

I'm a very lucky person, even on the bad days. I have still had 4 years together, 3 years married with the love of my life. With the other half of my soul. The person who resonates so deep within me that I will go through hell and back to have him even for one more day.

Frak cancer.

Frak brain cancer.

Frak tumors.

Frak chemo side effects.

Frak doctors who don't think he is worth "saving".

Frak insurance companies that think he is too expensive to keep alive.

Frak the drama.

Frak the bad nights and bad mornings.

Frak the tears.

For 3 years I have had the honor to be married to the person I love more than myself.

For 4 years I have known the man who changed me, and believes in me, and loves me.

It is bittersweet, but I am happy and thankful for every memory- happy or painful.

Happy almost Pi day, indeed.

Speak Friend and Enter

Wash said this about his gift from me on Saturday night;

"My wife's 'Leslie Knope' anniversary gift to me: A steakhouse dinner with friends and then an awesome adventure movie after. My inner Ron Swanson smiles."

I'm happy my husband is pleased. Yay!

I enjoyed highly my own little bridal/anniversary party.

Details and photos to come.

I think waking up today, feeling happy and loved, is something to celebrate.

Flying High

Hospice is so awesome.

Wash asked our SW for some help to do something nice for *me* for our anniversary.

They got us tickets to Wicked! tonight.

With Idina.

That means I not only get to see theatre, which I LOVE, but I get to hear/see the actress whom I fell in love with on the original cast recording back in 2001 or so.

I read the book in 7th grade.

To say I am mmm, excited, about tonight would be quite the understatement.

Apparently some friends of mine are also throwing me a (belated) Bridal Shower/Party this weekend- see as we eloped in secret, I never got one. We were engaged, but we never had any public recognition of our marriage until Wash was sick; and then of course, the focus was on his health, not "us" as a married couple now.

I am hopeful and trying to really be happy and enjoy this. I cannot allow myself to remember the other half of this right now- I'm going all out because I am really not certain if my husband will be alive for our 4th anniversary next year.

Wash also got to have a nice little Skype chat last night. One of our very close and good friends is still taking orders from Uncle Sam through Nov or so this year- we rarely get to see him, but I wanted him to know and I wanted to make sure Wash got to talk to his friend before he left, and while he still knew who he was speaking to. They caught up for about a half hour last night, and there were plenty of laughs and some good news shared.

I should have an ALTCS update tomorrow, hopefully.

Now, since Wash got his awesome gift for me all set; who wants to help with the other parts of my gift to him? I want for Wash- something personalized from Nathan Fillion. It can be a book or a napkin, or a phone call. I just want Wash to know (even for a few seconds) that Nathan knows who he is, what he is fighting (a losing battle), and that he (Nathan) symbolizes Wash's hero; the Browncoat who *never* gives up.

My Wash IS a Browncoat. Has been since the day I met him.

Gathered up a big storm

I managed to make a few new Walking Dead BINGO cards to play on tonight with our friends. I have so much fun trying to put my Aspie brain to work and figure out the trope patterns and the plot points. I've had mostly great feedback and outside some geek specific shows I made for me & Wash to play (The Invisible Man, Coupling, Torchwood, OZ, The Wire) I'm thinking of doing some for more current shows, like Law & Order: UK , continuing on for ses 5 of Mad Men, Downton Abbey.

I did this while Wash played with the Hospice Volunteer who came over today- as requested, "The geekiest one you can find!" said Wash. Well, when Will's* eyes lit up as he saw our TARDIS cookie jar and recognized Leto's name "As in Atredes?"

So, he spent about two hours over learning some more Warhammer and Wash taught him Munchkin (Steve Jackson game) so we three can play next Sunday. I think it will be fun even if it is not "me" time, it's time we can spend doing something fun, as it plays much better with more people than 2.

I spend a lot of my time thinking now. Going over thoughts and sometimes running as fast as I can away from them. How lucky to have had all this time, but how angry I can still feel that I won't get my "lifetime" with my husband, how we won't have all the things we want so badly, the smallest and simplest things. It hurts to spend so much of my time worrying about money, worrying about how I'm going to pay these bills, how long I can push others off, how badly my own credit score can really get...?

I ache for the children we will never have. I hurt that Wash will not get to see even his nephew grow up.

I hurt watching him cry and try to move past his dream of being a licensed Architect. How he stares at buildings sometimes, not able to speak a word but the pain is brilliant in his eyes.

I ache with the remembrance of pains he has long since forgotten, but not forgiven. How does one forgive when they do not remember they have been crossed?

He was looking for a specific Warhammer codex today for Will, before he remembered he had loaned it to a friend who literally just left him (and us) when he got sick. Who did some real shitty things to a friend who just had brain surgery and found out he was dying. All those memories, things he had forgotten for two years came back.

Thankfully for Will, he was able to keep Wash distracted enough to move past it or maybe with his short term issues, he just forgot again. I can hope.

I want moments of happiness. I want a chance to savor and remember what I know will be too short, too sad. I want something special, something more than just seeing the decline. I'm thankful every hour I get to spend with him, that he is alive, but I want more than just mere .... "well, he's alive...". I want to be thankful he is living and enjoying the life he has. I want more time for that, I want more chances for that.

Ah, crying now. That's my cue for the moment to stop writing. I am trying my hardest to keep the stress and drama away from Wash, and as I'm writing this in the afternoon not 2am when he's asleep, I have to be careful how he sees me. Sometimes he cannot understand the reasons why I am in pain and he just wants to do something to make me feel better. I try and keep him from having to feel like he has to take care of me. He should be focusing on himself.

We dated for 3 months before we got engaged. We were engaged for about 9 months before we eloped in secret. I had from the end of March through about May before his personality had changed so much he was hardly recognizable as the same personality. Realistically, I had one year to "know" my husband, my best friend, and the person I swore my life to.

I had about 6 weeks of being a "newlywed".... except since our family did not know we had eloped, most of our friends did not either. So, it was a secret and silent marriage.

By the time everyone knew we were married, all anyone could focus on- and should have- was Wash and the cancer, and the word "terminal".

I wanted to elope. We wanted to elope. We wanted something small, something that was all ours, that we "owned". I remember every lovely moment of it; even the scary parts and the first laughs we had as "Mr & Mrs."

But, we wanted (before the Cancer) something large for our families and friends to share and celebrate too. We just never got there. It was supposed to happen for a "anniversary".

I ponder these thoughts as March 14th approaches; our 3rd wedding anniversary.

My defining years as a wife have also been as a caregiver. I have never known another way.

I am sad about that though. I wish the 4 years I have been given to spend my time with him would have been less of "nursing" and more of "being his partner". I wonder if in a different universe 20 years from now "Pratt-King" would have meant the same powerhouse as "Charles and Ray Eames"? I can still hope for that future there, I suppose.

I just truly wish we as a couple, as a husband and wife, had something great to look forward to, something to celebrate.

*Not his real name