Visual Memories

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.

Catch-Up

I'm 'back'.
Though, I never really left. I've just not been sleeping much at all for the past almost week and I often cannot write after staying awake for four days.

I read a book series for myself. It was nice to have something I wanted to read, wanted to finish. I don't think I've had a "fun" read since Wash died. I have some books and novels to catch up on.

So, aside from the reading.

Things have been good and things have been tough.

The hard stuff first.

I have lost about a stone (14lbs) in the last two weeks. Not for really trying, or stress, but mostly due to lack of food. This is hard to be honest about, which is likely why I have not said anything, but I don't really have money to get food anymore. SNAP (either due to Arizona State frak-ups, or Federal [Congress] Frakery) has been reduced for me, and with no income, I'm trying to eat on about ~$20.00 for 7 days.
I have no grocery stores I can get to by myself or walking, and I have no funds for a bus pass, since they increased the rates back in March. I have the CVS and the Farmer's Market. Both have a small selection of foods, and both are pretty expensive compared to national brand grocery chains. I do have friends who take me to one of the stores a few miles South of where I live, maybe once or twice a month, but I'm still on a stretched budget. So, I've been averaging about one "meal" a day.
This I am sure is contributing to my tiredness.

I have a lovely friend who is also an animal lover who has been helping me to buy cat-food so the kitties are taken care of. I have a lovely reader here who sent litter as well, which we are all-ALL- very happy for. (Thank you, K.)

But, I have about $36 to my name, and $4 in SNAP food benefits to last me until well into next month. Which is hard. It is hard to be 26 years old and having to ask my mother for help to buy toilet paper, and peanut butter. I have not had much of any luck with finding a short term, or part-time job. Most business close or get smaller for the summer when all the students and SnowBirds leave, and the few who remain, or who move here in the summer before school starts have seemed to taken all the open jobs around here.
I am worried. I have no idea honestly how I am going to pay rent, electricity (it's in the 100sF now. Would you like to live in the sun with no A/C?) or my internet; which is mandatory for me now, as I'm doing some things to get ready for college this summer.

Wash had no life insurance. Neither of us had even health insurance when he was sick!
Side note: our appeal date for AHCCCS was originally on Oct 28th, 2009. I had applied in August when Wash was ill and I knew he needed a real doctor, not a undergrad student at the college health center, and we were denied. I often try not to think how many more weeks or months I might have had with him if the tumor was removed 3 months sooner than it was.
No funds, no insurance, no savings. The bit we had went to our wedding in March of that year; and the whole thing was done for under $1000. Once Wash was not working, not able to work, from the tumor none of us knew was there, my savings were gone to pay rent and food. His parents, before they blamed me for his illness -and death- did help us that summer. I remember Wash crying so much. I remember being told by his father that "this was the true Wash, you're seeing his real personality coming out. He is lazy and unmotivated." Which, really, was entirely untrue- however it was correct in that those were the symptoms of his tumor manifesting.
I try not to be angry about that summer. None of us knew what was really going on inside his brain. The tumor growing, killing healthy cells, pushing his brain- swelling inside his skull. He was not able to be honest with me, or his family, or his friends, or the few campus doctors he did see. None of us put it together until he was in the hospital on Oct 26th.
I try not to think about how it could have been different.
I often fail, but I try.

This May marks 3 years of me being "unemployed"- as my State and the Federal government do not recognize being a fulltime caregiver for your spouse as "employed". Though it should be. Caregivers at home help keep the patient's Quality of Life high, and help keep Medical care costs down by not needing a bed in a care-giving facility. Those of us doing it for the people we love though, we are not paid or compensated. Even though most often in a situation where one partner/spouse is needing the care and the other doing it; neither of them often has income, or enough, coming in. Try living as a terminally ill person with special dietary needs, medication costs, rent, and electricity on ~$800/month. Or less. Often less.
It's hard. It is hard to say to someone who is dying, "No you can't, we cannot afford it."

I've been doing a lot of processing of my feelings, obviously. Which lately has included a lot of tears. I'm not fighting it, and it hurts, but the pain seems to dull more quickly when I don't fight it.

Moving more to the good, now.

I got some sleep last night/this morning. [5am-2pm]
As I was lying down last night, I smelled him. On our-my- pillow, and his bear Hoban. That was a great comfort to me. Maybe that helped. Or, maybe I just hit my wall of not sleeping more than 3 hours since last Thursday.

He would have been so happy and excited for me.
I got in to my college programme. I'm doing fundraising to cover the costs; like the down-payment for classes, and uniforms, and airfare. I am also applying like mad to every scholarship that I can. I am working hard on this, because this is for me. I have not done anything for myself since Wash was ill, even before.
I took a holiday in late spring of 2008. I married Wash in early 2009. That is really the only things that come to mind over the last 5 years that were in any way "for myself".
I want this. I want to go back to school, at least, in this small way. It is a summer term, so just under 2 months long, and not as much pressure as re-enrolling for a whole school year, or even a normal term. That might still be too much for me right now.
But this? This is perfect.
It is an all women's college. Dorm life. A town about the size of where I live, in Tempe. Lots of gardens. Outside classes. Peaceful parks. More so, it is in Israel and is history I can study and touch. This is a chance for me. This is a chance for me to find something inside myself. Some passion.
When I was about 8 years old, I read a novel (the third in a long, and still continuing series) that moved me and impressed on me so much I still re-read it yearly. A strong young heroine, adventures, dangers, and in this book- a trip to Israel. Archaeological sites and digs, and reading in original Hebrew and Aramaic words written by human hand thousands of years ago.
To me, that was the epitome of excitement. A small fire inside me started when I read that book, and I knew in my lifetime I wanted to travel there. I wanted to have a chance to walk in the Old City. I wanted to read those words written so so so long ago. I wanted to smell the air; so different I imagine from anywhere else I've been.
I have that chance now. More. I have a chance to learn for myself. To seek out the direction to continue on.

There is no "moving forward" or "moving on" from my husband's death. It will always be with me, and a part of me. But, I have been able over the last few months to heal enough to begin to see the world with me in it instead of mourning the loss of the we. 
This is a large and important step, and I am recognizing that.
My therapy team is also quite encouraging in this, as are my family and all my friends.
I like to think they are happy to see my desire to do something-anything- again. In a way, I am too.
There is still a part of me that wants to just sit in my closet, hold his TARDIS urn, and cry. Forever.

I'm growing to see that not only is that closer to impossible, it gives me no quality of life. That, he would mind.
School, though? Things being different, him being alive, both of us working, he would take me out to celebrate and encourage me every step of the way on this. He is the cheerleader inside my head. Much cuter than Teri/Ferrell though.

Things going well and I can raise the funds, get scholarships, and take care of all the other details? I'll be in Safed by the end of June and back home sometime in August.

I am also working on a few projects to hopefully get some of the novellas/short stories Wash wrote and illustrated published. The cancer could not take his creative imagination from him, and perhaps knowing that his works, his passions, were "alive" in a way, being read, being appreciated, will help me. Knowing that he is not forgotten.

That is where I am at.

My belly might be hungry, but my self has Hope to feed on again.

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.

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.

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.

Android Sheep

Another bad night for me.
Adjusting to Widowhood is not easy. For every reason.

I am sad and missing my husband, my late husband, very much.

I will not be shamed about my choice to be more open and public with my grief.
It is far too stigmatized and misunderstood as is, despite almost all the human population feeling it at some point in their life, or several.

Did I laugh today? Yes.

Am I still sad to be going to bed alone tonight, without the person who should be there? Yes.

Grief is complicated, and unique to every person.
This is mine.

I went grocery shopping today.
I cleaned. Did dishes. Took care of laundry and my cats.
I also spent a half hour sobbing on my kitchen floor. Later on, more tears with a pillow.

There have been more functional days, and days where I've started to have more intense emotions, often overwhelming.

It is a mix every time I wake if I think I'm still dreaming, or if I recall right away that he is gone.

He is my husband. He was my late husband.
Such difference in emotion in those phrases, what information it conveys.

I see time like I never have before.

Soaring

More to come.

Midnight worries

I worry about what the cost of his (willed) cremation will really end up costing me. I had to pay upfront for it, and I still have not received any benefit money from Social Security.
I worry about the memorial.
I worry about rent, and other things, little and big.


I worry about how I will feel when more of his things are gone after this weekend when they are taken home by the people he wanted them to go to.
I worry I might enjoy having more space, and a chance to start to put the house the way I want.
I worry if I enjoy it, it means I am not missing him as I 'should'.

I worry about the week, and once my friends leave and my family too (temporary though it is) how lonely I will feel.

I worry about trying to find the right words for Saturday.

I worry about paperwork with DES and for my insurance.

I worry a lot about being poor.

I worry about my debts, and my husbands, and how they might effect me when I decide to go back to a school. I worry about working so hard, paying taxes, and still having to file for medical bankruptcy next year; depend on what the lawyer says.

I worry about the holidays, and feeling alone without him.

I worry about how much pain my heart hurts for this time right now; living alone for the first few years was a choice I made on my own. Living alone now is not by either of our wish.

I worry about waking up Christmas morning in a cold, empty, quiet house.
I worry about having no one to celebrate Hannukah with. I remember Wash working so hard to learn the Hebew prayers.

I worry about saying good-bye to him in a symbolic and final way.

I worry so much about my life is both the same and so unstructured; yet I'm not ready to change myself yet.

I worry about trying to communicate with the ones around me, and either not saying something that can be understood; or saying the wrong thing altogether.
I worry about how many people I will still have in my life next year.

I worry it is not acceptable to find moments to try to laugh.
I worry it is not acceptable if I don't laugh "more" now.

I worry about how confused I am that all I'm hearing is contradictions around me; specific advice on what to do at "this point"; specific advice to listen to no advice but my own wants.

I worry about the memories to come this week and month.

I worry about facing everything.

I worry so much about what will come next.

I worry how confused I am to feel so aged and mature, and so scared and young at the same time.

I worry how much I might forget about him.

Always worries.
Sometimes saying them lets them go. Sometimes not.

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.

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.

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. 

Wibbly Wobbly

I grew up with The Doctor.

I even watched the movie of the 8th.

But it was not until I began to date Wash that I learned of the re-launch.
He was SO excited to share it with me, he even did it out of linear order.
The first episode I ever saw with him was "The Forest of the Dead".

Alex Kingston as Prof River Song had me in tears by the end of the episode, with no other context than that one episode.
We were both huge Moffat fans and he wanted a "Grand Moff" episode to reel me in.
It worked.


Then again, maybe there was a reason this was the first episode we saw together.
Things are not always in a ... timeline order.
We saw this before we married. I did not have cable, Wash did. He got BBC and convinced me back in the summer of 2008 to watch an episode.
I was already pretty smitten with Wash by then, but enjoying that episode with him, sharing those moments were so happy. I was able to be myself, to enjoy something "geeky" (it was not NEARLY as popular a few years ago as it is now) and to not be judged but fully accepted.
Wash had some wonderful foresight.

He said I would love Donna. I did.
He said I would love River Song. I did.

"The Doctor, in the TARDIS... Next stop; Everywhere."
"Spoilers!"

4 long years ago. Spoilers, indeed.
So much to come. So much pain. So many happy moments.
A lifetime in the blink of an eye.

I miss him, MY love, MY TimeLord.
It's like living with an echo in my mind.

"You and me. Time and Space. You watch us run."


Doctor: Come on, next chapter's this way.
Song: When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it will never end. But however hard you try, you can't run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies. And nobody knows it like the Doctor. But I do think that all the skies of all the worlds might just turn dark if he ever, for one moment, accepted...
Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day. 
Not today.
Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody dies at all.
Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million day when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call...every body lives.



The time I had with you, Wash, I would not have a line of it re-written.
You live on in me.

Songs from an American Story

I wake up Wash this morning "Outside!"
"Wash, you can't go outside, it's hot and wet right now. You need to take your pills first."
"No! No wanna go out! The... the... stuff, the outside stuff; our FURNITURE! Is it gone?"
"What? Why would it be gone?"
"It's a YES OR NO ANSWER TASHI, IS OUR BACKYARD STUFF GONE?"
"I don't understand why you think it would be gone...."
"THE STORM. THE STORM TAKES STUFF. DUH, TASHI."
He goes and looks out the window.
"SEE??? You could have just said, 'No'." [everything is EXACTLY where it should be outside]

I just... what?

Waiting for his meds to kick in and the Hospice nurse to arrive.
How's everyone else's morning NOT dealing with brain cancer?

For reference, nothing has EVER gone missing during a storm for us. The umbrella gets knocked over, but nothing

goes MISSING. And I took down the umbrella earlier.

I'm wondering if he thinks it is Summer 2011 when we had our things STOLEN from the backyard?

Tashi's journal 13:07

I wish I had something more to talk about than brain cancer. Than watching my husband lose himself, his memories, his personality; and am left with a shell. An angry shell.

He's spent the morning calling me a "bitch" under his breath. Not even honestly sure if he was aware he was doing it. He cried, "I miss my wife! I don't know who you are, you're not *my* Tashi." He recognizes me, but I am different. I've physically changed in the last 4 years, and a lot emotionally too. But, he wants Tashi from 2008- and he wants to be the Wash from then too; without cancer.

It's hard and fuck awful.

He said there was more I could have done. "You could have played with me more! All the times I was watching tv with you, you were letting me rot instead of playing with me!!"

Not exactly true. I don't want to play with him, I can't- everything he wanted to do was in terms of "killing" the other person in the game; and even pretend I can't play or RPG when the goal is to "kill" my husband! Before cancer, sure, but post?NO FUCKING WAY.

Also, he's non-responsive! Most of the two years he was chemo sick, too tired to even speak to me let alone play a game or communicate what he wanted to me.

I brought friends in to play with him. He got 1-4 games a week! Just not against me, and I guess to him, that's what counted.

I have played with him. It just gets hard to want to "play" with someone who is acting like a 4 year old when I also have every single responsibility for two full adults to do as well.

He can't see how hard it is on me; mentally, emotionally, and even physically to care for him, to care for my dying husband. To watch the person I should have had 40 more years with die before my eyes, and have his personality and memories stripped away first. He just sees me pulling away and hates me for it.

He doesn't, he can't see that I have to give myself space, I have to let myself start to mourn NOW, or else, there will be no reason for me to stay alive when he dies.

When there's someone by your side to sing along

I have not been feeling my best lately and putting off taking care of myself. People I value have pointed out just how stupid that is, as well as avoiding the doctor, so I sucked up my issues and called.

I'm hoping to get some answers and some help.

Some short, but good bits today.

Tuesday sadly Shepherd's pie was cancelled as there was a bug going around my stepdad was not feeling great. So, my mum came over to our place instead, we grabbed Tacos for Tuesday dinner and the three of us enjoyed watching "The Muppets". My mum started out hushing at me but by the end was singing all the songs out loud with Wash and me. It was a really sweet and happy night and memories for all of us, I feel.

A little later on just after we had finished the second episode of "Texas Ranch House" the power for our entire block went out. I'm still trying to figure out if that is ironic. I just grabbed some candles, Wash went to sleep with a few extra blankets, and I stayed up and read for a couple hours until the power reset. Then I turned in.

Wednesday I really was not feeling that great myself, and Wash really just needed to *write*, so he just took the computer over for the day. He finished his short story a while ago and has been doing his best to get some help to really edit it and make it into a nice product. I'm proud of his hard work and how he has been able to re-focus his grief of losing his ability to be an architect, into something else; writing fantasy/fiction and illustrating. Some days he can work for a few hours with great focus, but most of the time his projects lay undisturbed until I remind him or something happens to inspire his creativity. Brain cancer and injuries are so odd; certain predictabilities, and other flat out deficiencies. He cannot remember to brush his teeth, or even eat on a daily basis, but he can still write a 20 page short story. I am constantly amazed by how much of "him" remains, and how much of his personality and even skills have just gone away.

We also had some good insurance news this week; our old horrible case-manager for Wash is off, and our new one is a very respectable woman. Wash had a 2 hour assessment that left him very drained, but we have a few new things to help him now; a new cane he got today and he will have an appointment soon to check his eyes and see if glasses can help him. We're not sure how bad is sight is due to the tumor pressing his optic nerve and/or the brain surgeries, and how much glasses can really help; but I think that if his sight is improved, even if for seeing or just reading it will help. Everything right now I can do to help him still *feel* independent, even if he is not, it helps his Quality of Life. I don't like thinking we are at the point of just audio-books for him, so I hope maybe, just maybe, reading glasses might help him do it himself.

So, my paperwork says that as of April 2012 Wash will be on ALTCS totally and in full effect, and at that point (the social worker explained this from my paperwork) we will STOP having to pay the additional $125.15 and $98.00 Medicare/Medicaid premiums a month. Which I've been having to do out of pocket for about a year or so now. It will be really nice when I can stop being "past due" on all my bills.

Today I am trying to play catch up as best I can, while keeping my eye on him, and feeling gorram awful. I see my doctor this afternoon, and I'm hoping even if there is no pill for my stress levels, she can help with some ideas/referrals, or diet.

In the evening we went over to my mum's house and spent the evening with my older brothers; one who lives around here showed up even though he WAS sick with a cold (he wore a mask the whole night) and my older brother Yoshi had flown in for a night to fly a charter Cactus League team to Japan the next day. We got to share photos, stories, and some laughs. I heard all about my lovely nephew and his adventures (he went "skiing"/sledding for the first time in Feb! He made a life sized 3 foot tall snowman too.) shared some of what was going on with us, and just had a nice night with *my* family around the table. It was wonderful on so many many levels.

Having him live so far away makes things hard, but I'm glad for the technology that allows my mother to speak and teach English to her grandson in Japan, and allows us to share so much so fast. Wash even remembered the last time he had been in town, which was back when he was still getting chemo I think!

I can't think of what else has really been going on, but I've been forgetting things all week.

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.