I was with Jason for 6 years. He died 5 - 29 - 22. He had turned 40 two months before. I had moved back home in December. I lived alone, mostly, for a few months before that.
It was the most difficult time of my life. Emotional,verbal, mental, physical, sexual abuse, financial. If there are more possibly those too.
Half a dozen attempts leading up to 4 days in a coma the last time. As many or more stays in the psych hospital.
I came across a message today that he had sent me near the end. He had broken his femur right after I made him move out. He told me daily how the pain was so bad and no one cared. He was tired of his life. He couldn't make it without me. This time he ended with
I have a date with a shotgun. She cares enough to take away my pain.
I tried so hard to help him, all the way until the end. Everyone that knew how things agreed with me. I was going to die if I didn't leave.
There were so many good things I saw in him. I am sad now thinking about how he made everyone laugh. He was definitely the funniest guy I'd ever met. He had suffered through a lot in life. Addiction. Abuse. His long time girlfriend died while he held her hand. Really severe mental illnesses. Chronic pain. I came close to sacrificing myself so many times trying to help him.
I was not surprised when I called his mom to check on him after a few days of not hearing from him that he was dead. It hurt badly. I thought he would get himself straight, get help, and then I'd let him come to Arizona. He used to tell me
Youre my hand to hold as I grow old
I had to be admitted to the hospital for about a week. I was overcome with hurt and guilt. It still hurts. I still miss him. I dont feel like it was my fault so much anymore. I know I did absolutely everything I could, and more, to try to save him.
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