As much as we truly believed in a future together, his feeling ended up being right.
I keep using the phrase 'in awe' when describing my feelings about Jon. I honestly can't think of a better way to explain how I felt about him. Feel about him. We used to say that we wished there was another word besides "LOVE" to describe how we felt about one another. People say 'I love you' all the time. Both he and I had said it in prior relationships, but this love just seemed like a different thing altogether. This love was real. It was honest and true, and passionate, and sometimes it seemed so big that it was its own living, breathing entity. It was what made our world go round. Sometimes he would say 'I love you', I'd reply 'I love you, too', and then he'd answer, 'No, but like, I really love you.' Two dreamers, found what they were dreaming of.
I miss him. Every second. Sometimes I feel like I'm walking around with a big chunk of me missing -- a big piece that everyone can see.
People keep telling me I'm strong. What would they be doing in my position? Laying crumpled up in a ball, sobbing? Been there. Probably will be there again. Would they give up?
Jon never gave up. He had his fall apart moments, times when it just seemed all too hard. The anniversary (both years) of his diagnosis was difficult. He realized how much his sense of 'life' had changed. What 'normal' had become. Everything he had lost. Everything that he was threatened to have taken away. He was overwhelmed, and angry and sad, and in pain, but the very thought of giving up aroused nothing but fury in his eyes. And he would look at me and I could see that he was grateful for all he had gained. He said he needed very little to give him the will to keep fighting. He was not afraid.
I wonder if my 'feeling' was right. I mean, Jon's was pretty spot-on. What if I'm doomed to live a shortened life as well? My gut feeling is, this very situation is what I had always felt. I believe Jon and I were connected. Perhaps my big fear of not having a future was somehow connected to this very event. This extremely profound, indescribable loss. Part of me is gone. The future I planned, is not happening. I don't say that to be dramatic... It is simply the truth. Leave it to the universe to be all metaphorical.
Whatever happens, I am not afraid. I'm not afraid of anything anymore . . . except maybe this pain in my heart. I worry that I will never be able to feel anything else because it will overshadow everything. But I know that's silly. If Jon and I were so connected, he will make sure I see happiness again.
In one of our early emails when we were getting to know one another, we described our basic likes/dislikes. One of the things Jon teased me about was for saying I liked sunshine and sprinkles. (I mean, most people like those things.) In a later email, he told me he liked making me smile because my smile made the world a better place, and if he could make the world that much better, he'd be happy. (Quite the charmer, huh?) At the end of that email, he wished me a day filled with 'sunshine and sprinkles'. I know he still wishes those things for me.
It really sums up our relationship. We saw so much heartache and pain, and yet our love was a miracle in itself. We were mushy and attached at the hip and probably nauseating to some. We said heaven would be filled with puppies. We believed in magic, in fate, in laying in the sunshine listening to songs. We believed in ice cream and always saying I love you, and snuggling. We dealt with cancer and side effects and statistics and bad news and waiting rooms. We faced 'what if's' and decisions no one should have to make. We called each other 'babe' and couldn't sleep well until the other was home. We danced in the kitchen. We made up stupid songs, played computer games, and laughed for hours at ridiculous inside jokes. We yelled at each other, and then kissed. We fell asleep together in hospital beds. We believed in forever and said 'no matter what'. We talked about what we'd name our kids someday. We planned a wedding. We canceled a wedding. We said our vows alone in our bedroom. We named our bedroom. We talked about death and saying goodbye. I said goodbye. I watched him leave this world. That's enough to make anyone stop believing, isn't it??
And yet, it's enough to make me keep believing. THAT ALL happened. What is there to possibly be afraid of? The world has goodness and beauty in it. Sometimes it's just hard to see.
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet) -- e.e. cummings