WARNING: the SPOILER looks like it's working when I'm editing, but not so much now that I've posted. So if you are squeamish, you might not want to read this.
I met Jordan, my partner, my soulmate, the last man I thought I'd ever love, in August of 2009. Anyone who knows me at all would say I didn't believe in things like souls, or fate, or destiny, things like monogamy, marriage, mating for life... and I still don't, but if anyone could have changed my mind, it would have been him. But he would never ask me to change my mind, he would never want me to change my mind. He wouldn't want me to change anything about myself. He thought I was perfect, just the way I am.
On April 8th, probably around the time that the eclipse was really getting exciting (I was watching it on my computer in the living room), he died in his sleep in my bed.
His corpse was still warm when I found it.
A friend of mine died of cancer back in October of '23 (okay, she didn't die of cancer, she died from a lack of oxygen to her brain after a blood clot lodged in it when there were complications from an infection she got as a result of treatments for her cancer) and I thought, I'd better tell people I love them while I can, because you never know when someone you hadn't yet had a chance to visit will straight kick it. That morning, as I went to leave the room so he could rest, he said, "hey" and I turned back and said "what's up" and he smiled and said "I love you" and I smiled and I said "I love you, too" and when I came back later he was dead, so even if you do get a chance to tell someone you love them, you may still feel like it wasn't enough.
It's... well, I don't know how much there is to say about it. He's gone, and he's not coming back. But I accumulated a couple pictures of him over the years, not as many as I'd like, and not anywhere near as many of us together as I'd like, but here are some for you to enjoy.
If you feel an urge to do something to try to counteract the crushing feelings of helplessness and impotence that accompany an unexpected death you were powerless to prevent, here's a fundraiser you can donate to.
I suppose there aren't more "photobooth" type things around because everyone has a camera on their phone, but I always think they're fun, and they still hadn't figured out that everyone already has a camera 10 years ago, so that's when we took these pictures at, apparently, the Ravenna Ale House:
In this one, he's actually wearing a costume, but I'm not exactly sure what, exactly, he's supposed to be dressed as... some sort of early 90s Salt n Pepa video reject? I'm okay with that:
When the Seahawks had their practice in Bothell that one time a few years ago, my mom and her friend/coworker got us to come with them to check it out. I have way more pictures of them on the field than I do of me an' Jordan, and some of them even came out pretty good, but this one was probably my favorite of all the ones I took that day:
Who doesn't love a giant flaming jet of combustable gasses, huh? Is it YOU?! Because it mos def isn't Jordan:
And then for what is probably my Number One All Time Favorite Picture of Jordan, featuring sparks, his perfect teeth, and that ever-so-slightly crazed look he gets when he's going to do [the thing] and no one can stop him:
Behind the spoiler are pictures I took of him during the viewing, so if you don't want to see a corpse (or read about what happens in death), you should end your visit here, with that last picture fresh in your mind.
LAST CHANCE TO AVOID PICTURES OF A DEAD PERSON. SRSLY WHEN I EDIT THE SPOILER LOOKS FUNCTIONAL BUT WHEN I SAVE IT THE SPOILER DISAPPEARS, SO...
After everyone had left, I called a friend to see if I could get some company that evening, and when I was talking about what happened, I said something like "there was all this..." and I paused, trying to come up with the right word for... it, and they said "purple stuff?" and I laughed because Jordan would have LOVED it.
His viewing was three weeks after he died, and I was so afraid he was going to look... like he'd been in a fridge for three weeks, you know? But the funeral home did a great job with the makeup; they'd glued his mouth closed, so he had this permanent look of... slight irritation, that I found completely fitting. They couldn't even do his "aquamation" or whatever they call it for several weeks because there was some problem with the machinery, which he also would have thought was funny.
I got new glasses! Because when EMTs come they step on everything, including things that might slip off your face when you're trying to move a big heavy thing into a position that's more conducive to doing chest compressions on it, then doing chest compressions. I hope you never have to do what I was doing. On average, one can expect to find one dead body in their life, and I've got mine over with, so probably I won't ever have to do it again, at least.
This is the last picture I ever took of him, or us together, and I know it's blurry, and the one right before it on my phone is not blurry, but I still don't want to get rid of it, because... I'm just not ready. I was already upset that we threw away the rug they'd used to move him out to the front door, even though I'd wanted to get rid of it at the time because there was... gore on it, so the picture stays, and you get to see it too.
Well, that's it. I wish I could tell you that he left this life just as he entered it: naked, screaming, covered in blood and partially inside a vagina, but alas, the only thing he checked off on that list was "naked"; at first I was feeling a little apprehensive about him entering the afterlife without any clothes on, but those blankets he was wrapped in at the funeral home were plush as fuck, so maybe "naked" is the way to go. I mean... it doesn't really matter, right? He's machining parts for Odin's chariot in Valhalla now, and I'm sure they've found him something appropriate to wear.
