My love story

We weren’t supposed to be separated. We were meant to find each other. We lived on opposite sides of the country, and through unlikely circumstances, we met when I went to Ohio for school. I started dating his best friend. We talked a few times in the mornings before class. We were sort of friends when I moved back to Cali, and didn’t talk but a few times that first 6 months.

Then my relationship with his best friend fell apart and he started talking to me more, trying to make me feel better. We didn’t talk for another couple months cuz we were both busy, and then one February, we started chatting again online. We talked for hours everyday. Then we started talking on the phone. On his days off we’d talk for 12 hours on the phone. He bought a cell phone JUST so he could call me. By valentine’s day, I knew I loved him. It took 2 more months before I got the courage to say it though. We were talking on AIM, and I typed “I love you”. It took me 10 minutes to get the courage to hit send. I hit send, turned up the volume on my speakers and ran out of the room. I was so scared of being rejected. It seemed like he took forever to reply, but finally I heard my message notification ring. I could barely breathe. I slowly sauntered back into the living room and glanced at the computer screen. He said “I love you too”.

This was like mid April. We were officially a couple, though I didn’t tell my mom. I was only 17 and I didn’t think she’d approve, and I didn’t want to hear her negative opinion about long distance relationships. He sent me a ring in the mail. It was a gold entwined serpent with jeweled eyes. It barely fit on my pinky, but I wore it all the time. It had belonged to his grandmother. He asked me to come out to Ohio in May for a specific festival they had every year. I begged my mom and she agreed. At first he invited me for a long weekend, like 4 days, but then it ended up turning into a 3 week trip. He bought me the plane ticket and made arrangements that I could stay at his house. He gave up his bed for me and slept in a recliner in the living room. For the first night anyhow, haha. The second night I asked him to sleep with me. Sleep sleep, not sex.

The first full day I was there, we were sitting on his bed talking, and I glanced away for a split second and all of a sudden his lips were against mine. It was amazing. I giggled and pulled away, blushing fiercely.

We spent those 3 weeks together, totally inseparable and in love. Then I went home. We both cried. It was horrible. The minute I got into my house, I called him. It was like 4am where he lived, but he told me to call and let him know that I got in ok and was safe.

The next few days we talked just as much as before, and we decided that we couldn’t be apart. He invited me out for the summer. I was home for 3 weeks, and then jumped back on a plane to go to Ohio for the summer and be with him. The original plan was for me to stay out there until shortly before my birthday, in August, and then I would come home and spend my birthday with my family. That was the plan. We decided we couldn’t handle that. So he took 2 weeks off from work in August and came out to Cali for the first time. He met my family for the first time. We spent lots of time showing him the amazing sights of Cali: The redwoods, the ocean, the stars up on the mountains, the vineyards, etc. He fell in love with San Francisco. We decided to spend a few days down there over my birthday.

We stayed at the Travelodge on Market and Valencia. We had a nice room with a king bed, nothing fancy. We made love for the first time shortly after midnight on the morning of my 18th birthday. That day we went to Alcatraz. I don’t remember much. There’s a picture that he took of me, and my eyes are kinda glazed over and I’ve just got this goofy smile on my face.

It was unreal. I never imagined that I might find something like this in my entire life. After our 2 week visit in Cali ended, we both flew back to Ohio, and I stayed with him and his family until 3 days before Thanksgiving. At this point I believe I had already convinced him to switch majors and schools. He was in school to be an MD, but he was miserable. He had taken a photography course as an elective and really thought he’d rather pursue that career instead. I convinced him that he should do it, if he enjoyed it that much, and pre med was just making him miserable. He didn’t want to disappoint his parents and they were paying for his school. But I gave him the courage to tell that he wanted to switch majors and become a photographer.

He went to the Ohio Institute for Photography and Technology and majored in Photography. He achieved Outstanding Portfolio in his class, and graduated as one of the top students. He was an amazing photographer.

I went back home just before Thanksgiving. We both cried again. I cried on the whole plane ride from Dayton to Cinci, which is like a 45 minute hop. I had a 2 hour layover in Cinci, and called him from the payphone. I begged and begged for him to drive the hour and 20 minutes to come and get me. I missed him so fiercely already. He told that me I had to go home and be with my family for the holidays. He said he might be able to come out and see me for Christmas. I found out sometime later that he had been sitting in his car while talking to me, trying to force himself not to drive down and get me. I flew home to Cali, but I didn’t consider it home anymore. Home was with Jack. I spent a somewhat miserable Thanksgiving with my family. It was nice, but I missed him so much. I wrote him a few letters. I wrote him an erotic, sexy fantasy short story and sent it to him. He called me the night that he got it in the mail. I could hear the desire in his voice. He said he would be coming out for Christmas to be with me and my family.

He spent 2 weeks with us over Christmas and I think he stayed through New Years. It rained pretty much the entire 2 weeks. It was pretty miserable. I think I got sick for part of it. We’d sneak away and make love under the guise of “wrapping presents”. Ever since, around the holidays, “wrapping presents” was an inside joke for us. After the New Year, he flew back to Ohio alone. I cried in the car all the way down to the airport. It’s an hour drive to the city from where I lived, and it was one of the longest hours of my life at that point.

I had dropped out of school after Sophomore year, so early in January I was set to take the GED test. Jack paid the $90 for it so I could get my GED. I passed the test with flying colors, even for not having had studied. I flew back to Ohio for good in early February. Packed all my stuff and officially moved in with my man. He was in school and working as a cook at a local mexican restaurant. I didn’t find a job until like May. I worked at a video store, but quit after a few weeks. We sold porn vids and the creepy guys buying the nastiest porn would always hit on me while I rang up their purchase. It was gross. So I got a job at a discount retail store, and kept that job for about 3 weeks before I quit. I was in charge of the fitting rooms and making sure the bra and panties racks were organized. It was chaos. I quit after a really rough day where it looked like a tornado had come through the store and I couldn’t keep the bras and panties off the floor. Also, while I was clearing the aisles, a couple snuck into the fitting room and started going at it, if you know what I mean. Hahaha. So yeah, I quit that.

A few months later I got a job at a hospital as a housekeeper. That was pretty awesome and fun and I’ve been trying to get back into that kind of work. We stayed in Ohio for 1 more year, and then the economy crashed, starting in the East and moving West. We bailed for California because Cali was still doing ok job wise. We moved cross country in the dead of January winter. We got snowed in in a little town called Grinnell Iowa. We stayed at a really nice Best Western just off the interstate. All we did was sleep and make love for 2 days. It was like a nice little vacation.

We got to california after being on the road for about 6-7 days. We’d stay with my mom on her living room floor until Jack could find work and we could get our own apartment. At this point I wasn’t able to work due to physical limitations. I had/have a heart/lung issue that is yet to be diagnosed. It prevented me from being able to do anything physically strenuous, like walking or standing for long periods of time. He landed a job at an awesome company where he ended up working until the day he died. This job required him to go to Florida for 7 weeks for job training, and if he failed the training, he wouldn’t get hired for the position. We decided to get married right then and there after he got the confirmation of the job offer. We got married on a Thursday at the local courthouse, my mom and best friend were the only ones in attendance, and we didn’t even tell anyone else that we were getting married. He had to ship out to Florida that Sunday. Saturday we held a huge shindig at my moms under the guise of announcing and celebrating Jack’s new job.

My grandmother had taken us to Disneyland a month or so beforehand and I had bought a pair of Minnie Bridal Ears with a veil. I actually got married wearing those ears. Anyhow, I had ducked inside and put the ears on while everyone was chatting outside and catching up with each other. I walked out wearing the bridal ears and my mom practically yelled “Wendy and Jack got MARRIED!” It was hilarious, and I’ve never been so happy in my life. We had champagne and got congratulated by all my friends and some family. I was only 20 at this point.

The next day we drove my husband down to the airport, and before we left, he took me out to his car and said he had something for me. He reached into the glovebox and pulled out a ringbox. I opened it and inside was a white gold wedding band. I had a gold engagement ring from 2 years earlier with a 1/4 carat princess cut diamond. Gold looks good on me, but I love white gold and silver. The band was a little too small and it was wider than I liked. My fingers are very sensitive so sometimes I can’t wear any rings at all. It fit on my pinky. At this point, I had lost the original ring that he had given me. The gold snake with jeweled eyes. I left it in a restaurant restroom for maybe 5 minutes before realizing it wasn’t on my finger. By the time I went back for it, it was gone. I got so upset my nose started bleeding. Anyhow, the wedding band took the empty place on my pinky finger until we could get it resized.

We drove him down to the airport and I said goodbye to my husband after 3 days of marriage. Friday night we had honeymooned in the city, but we ended up arguing all night due to the stress of him leaving me for 7 weeks. We said our teary goodbyes and he walked away to get on his plane. After about 4 weeks, he flew me down to Florida to be with him. I wasn’t allowed to stay in his hotel room because it was paid for by the company. He got me my own room not far from his training center, and stayed with me nearly every night. I was in Florida with him until he was done with the training. We flew home to california on the same day, but sadly on separate flights. It was so lonely being in the air, knowing he was in the air also, but we weren’t together. His plane landed at SFO about 10 minutes before mine, and he met me at the baggage claim and just wrapped his arms around me. He had passed the training and got the job and things were going great.

A month later we moved into our very first apartment together. It was a large, 2 bed, 2 bath apartment. He needed the extra room as a home office for his job. Like 6-12 months after we moved in, he invested about $1500 into a new home business for me. Making jewelry. I’ve always been making jewelry, ever since I was like 3 years old. I made really good stuff, too. He was gonna be my photographer and I was gonna post the pieces on Etsy to sell. He got lazy and I had to press him to take my photos one weekend. He half assed it and they came out horribly. We argued a lot about that. It took him a few years before he finally apologized for it and admitted that he was selfish and didn’t want to do it. He had a lot of growing up to do. I grew up pretty young because of my upbringing and less than ideal home life as a kid and teen. He was an only child and was pretty spoiled. He did grow up though, just took some years. He finally understood that marriage was a partnership and that if one of us succeeds, both of us succeed. He truly understood that as of July 2013. Of course I’d lose him just a few months later. Maybe he had learned all the lessons he had needed to learn, and so God took him home.

I never did get professional shots of my jewelry. We were going to tackle that project in spring of 2014.

Our life wasn’t perfect. We weren’t perfect. Neither of us. We both had/have flaws. We both needed/need to grow up in some aspects. Our love was perfect. We fought. All couples do. But we never wanted to be away from the other person for very long. Sometimes when we were fighting I’d tell him to leave me alone, and sometimes he would, but sometimes he’d just wrap his arms around me and say nothing. I’d melt. I’d start crying and pull his arms tighter around me. Other times I’d push him away, but I really did want his arms around me. I was just hurt.

Years later we moved into a small apartment closer to his work area. Money was rough, we were $20,000 in debt, mostly due to medical and dental expenses. And his long work hours were a sore subject due to his long commute. Some days he would leave at 7 in the morning and not get home until after 9 at night. I’d been cheated on before, so that was something I was always fearful of, especially with his long hours and the nature of his work. He was a tech who would go into clients homes and fix their equipment. It wasn’t difficult for my mind to wander into the danger zone and start thinking about him having an affair with one of his clients.

So we moved into a small apartment that would save us about $150 a month and save him maybe an hour a day off his commute. We moved in in August 2013. On the weekend of my 26th birthday. The chaos of moving spiraled my health out of control. I was in bed for half of September and the entire month of October. I couldn’t breathe, just standing up made me nearly pass out. I had pushed my body too far, and way past its limits. I was so scared. I hadn’t been sick like this in a few years. Not for this long, and not this severely.

I cried a lot. I was terrified. I was scared that I was gonna die and leave him here alone. When he was home and with me, we’d lay in bed and watch movies. I had only been watching Disney movies for about a year. I couldn’t handle anything dramatic or sad or anything like that. It was only Disney. Sometimes he’d be talking with me, and I’d be in the middle of a sentence and I’d just go unconscious. I’d wake up a little while later a bit confused. I’d ask him if I’ve been here, as in, coherent. He’d just give me a worried smile, and tell me that I fell asleep on him. A few days before he died, I cried myself to sleep because I was so terrified that I was gonna die. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to leave him.

We talked about it at length. He told me that he would never find another, and that if I died, he would lose the last shred of humanity that he had left. He thought he was a bad person. He had some anger issues and stuff and hit me once in a fight, but he wasn’t a bad person. I told him that he’d have to move on and make our dreams come true. Start the teenager halfway house we’d been talking about for years. He asked me what I would do if he died. At the time I couldn’t imagine being without him, or being alone at all in general. I told him I’d marry again asap. A few minutes later I retracted that statement. He made me promise to not do anything to shorten my life. I told him I’d do the best I could to live without him. We both cried ourselves to sleep that night.

He had a few days off to celebrate his birthday, and as usual when he had time off from work, we planned to spend a good chunk of it doing housework. Since moving made me so sick, we still had a lot of unpacking and cleaning to do, and this was our opportunity to get a good amount of it done.

We hadn’t been intimate in some months due to my illness and some emotional issues I was having. But since it was his birthday, I wanted to make him feel good. We made love and felt that connection to each other again. We ordered Chinese food from a local restaurant and hung out and ate fried rice and sweet and sour pork while watching movies and cuddling. This was Wednesday night.

Friday was much of the same. We had planned to get some work done, but I was still battling my illness. We were hanging out in bed most of the day watching movies. I kept passing out on him, mid sentence. He was worried. I think I was unconscious for more than half the day, off and on. He posted on FB that he was worried about me and that he was watching over me while I slept. That was the last post he’d ever make. I woke up and perked up a bit in the evening time. We cuddled and watched more movies, and had ordered more chinese food. It was delicious. We hadn’t had a treat like that in quite a while. I believe it was shortly after midnight, he got up and said he had to use the restroom. I was half assed playing a game on my ipad, one of those guild-based castle siege games. I looked up from the game and told him to hurry back and that I loved him. He told me that he loved me too.

He walked into bathroom, which was right next to our bedroom, closed the door and then I heard him shriek. He was having a seizure. He always screamed/shrieked at the onset due to the involuntary muscle contractions. I rushed out of bed, my heart was racing. I pounded on the door and asked if he was ok. He didn’t respond. Not surprising. He was seizing, he wasn’t even conscious at that point. I tried to get the door open but he had fallen on the floor and was blocking the door. I managed to open it about 2-3 inches. I could see his arm and his fingers. He was on his tummy, his palm was facing upwards and his fingers were slightly curled. This wasn’t the first time he had seized in the bathroom and blocked the door. I tried shaking his arm to move him so I could get inside. But no luck. I was freaking out. I was losing my mind. I couldn’t stand being so close to him and yet being so helpless. I threw my sandals on and took a short walk around the complex to calm myself.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seized in the bathroom and I wasn’t able to get to him. I didn’t know it would be the last. It usually took 10-20 minutes for him to come to enough to stand up, and then another 30-60 minutes before he was totally back to himself. So I took a quick walk around the complex, and then headed back to the apartment. I was expecting him to be coherent enough to unblock the door at this point. I got back into the house, and I heard nothing. Not even the loud snoring that he always had in the wake of a seizure. It was too quiet. I ran over to the bathroom door and tried to open it again. I could see him arm and his fingers. He was turning blue. I wedged my arm through the door as far as I could and shook his arm violently, trying to rouse him. Nothing.

I freaked out. Tears started streaming down my face. I panicked. I hunted for my phone only to find that it was dead. I scrambled to find his phone and called 911. They took 9 minutes to get to my apartment. Somehow one of the medics was skinny enough to fit through the door. When he got into the bathroom, I heard him say “shit”. The living room was full of boxes and there was only a narrow pathway from the front door to the back of the apartment where the bedroom and bathroom were. I stepped outside and waited for them to fix my husband.

I kept asking if he was gonna be ok, they only told me that they were breathing for him. One of them came out with a clipboard and was asking me questions. Medical history I think. I don’t really remember.

I called my mom from my husbands cell and thank god she answered. It was already like 1 in the morning at this point. She lived 2 hours away, but she was my only hope. I said “Mom, mom, *crying*, Jack had a seizure in the bathroom, he slumped against the door, I couldn’t get to him. The paramedics are here and they’re breathing for him. I don’t think he’s gonna make it, mom. I need you. I need you to come down here. I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

It would take her 2 hours to get to my apartment. The medics wheeled my husband out of our apartment and took him to the hospital. I was left behind. They didn’t even offer to have me ride with them.

I sat on my bed and held my cat and just prayed for 2 hours straight. Prayed that he be ok. That God not take him from me. That he would come home safe and sound. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.

My mom finally got to my house. I grabbed Jack’s wallet and his glasses, but he had broken the glasses when he fell against the door. We rushed to the hospital. The nurse took us back into an empty room in the ER. Where was my husband? She told us to wait here and that someone would be in shortly to talk with us. I paced around the room. My mom was trying to be supportive. She was saying that they may have put him in a medically induced coma and that they needed to talk to us before letting me see him.

A doctor lady came in, and explained that they did everything they could, but that his heart had already stopped by the time they got to him. He was gone. He was gone. I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. My world started to spin. I thought I was gonna throw up. The tears started flowing as I just stood there. My mom hugged me tight, tears flowing down her face also.

I said goodbye to him that night. I kissed his chest a million times, patted his cheek, told him I loved him more times than I can remember, and that I would miss him. I professed my undying love for him, as he lay in front of me, lifeless and blue, with a breathing tube taped to his face. Nothing in the world will ever make me forget that night. The way he looked when they wheeled him out of our apartment. The way the paramedic looked at me when he told me that they were breathing manually for my husband. I knew then. I didn’t want to, but I knew.

His birthday was on November 6th, he had turned 29. By the morning of November 9th, he was gone from this world. Our life wasn’t perfect, but we loved each other, through good times and bad, we were always there for each other. We were meant to be together.

I celebrated our 6 year wedding anniversary the April after his death. We had been together for almost 10 years, known each other for 11 years. In just over a month it’ll be his 30th birthday, and then 3 days later, his one year death anniversary. How am I supposed to go on without him. I’ve loved him since I was 17. We have barely been apart for the duration of our relationship. And now I’m coming up on an entire year without him, without even hearing his voice, or seeing him smile. Without smelling his cologne on my clothes and in my bed.

So… That’s my love story.

This is us. Random outing in the city, and our wedding pic. There aren’t many photos of us together. That’s the problem with marrying a photographer. They are always behind the camera.  <3 <3 <3 <3