On February 8th, 2011, I lost my love, my best friend, my SUNSHINE. He had spent two years in prison and had been out for five months. I hadn't had the chance to see him before he got out because I had moved on the other side of the state. I wanted to make sure that things were ok before I gave myself to him 100% and forever. I promised I'd go over the mountain passes and see him when the snow melted. He couldn't wait. I drove over snowy passes to see him alright. Laid out in a coffin. Unbeknownst to me, he had developed an opiate addiction. There were days when he would just disappear and it wasn't until after his death that I found out he was in pill happyland. There were a lot of things that I didn't know. Things that he didn't feel he could tell me. He didn't want me to see him that way. For reasons I will never know, he decided to rob a pharmacy for painkillers. He was in jail for a night and had his arraignment the next day. By 1am of that same day, he was DEAD. He had hung himself from a bedsheet in his jail cell. The guards found him too late. They kept him breathing and he was transported to the hospital where he was on lifesupport for two days. He was braindead. If he would have woken up at all, he would not have been able to function by himself. That would be the last thing he wanted. On the 10th, they turned off lifesupport. On the 16th, they buried him. At the funeral, his coffin seemed so big. My darling was almost 6-3 and over 220 pounds (compared to my 5-3 100 pounds, he was my giant ). I just remember how big his hands looked in the coffin. I remember seeing the stitches behind his ear from the autopsy. My darling was a redhead and they just didn't get his color right. His freckles looked so strange against his unnaturally colored skin. There were dots of orange paint in his ear where they messed up. His few days growth of beard was colored in. The collar of his shirt was up to his chin to hide the marks from his hanging. His cousin told me that when he saw him at the hospital, his eyes were bulging out of his sockets. Another imagine I can't get rid of although I didn't see it. His chest was so big. I just wanted to crawl in beside him and lay my head on his shoulder. I wanted his big hand to engulf my little one. I wanted to stretch out besides him and put my leg around his. I wanted all of these things to happen when he was alive, of course. But I could imagine crawling in there with him and telling them that it was ok. I was ok with it. Just close the lid and lower us down. I would be safe with him. I just wanted to be where he was. I put a four leaf clover charm in his chest pocket. It was a fake pocket and the clover peeked out with a glint of silver. I wanted him to have something of me forever. Now I don't know if I should have. I imagine his poor body decaying and that four leaf clover among all the remains. I can't help but imagine it, as sad and horrifying as it is. I wasn't invited to sit with the family. I asked his sister for something of his... a shirt to cuddle with at night. She said she had to ask his parents, but I never got anything or heard about that ever again. I cradled a letter he wrote me to my chest every night. Just to know his hand had pressed on the paper made me feel better. We weren't friends in high school, and all his old friends seemed to hate me. Jealousy. He was the kind of person who collected people who needed him. They did not like sharing. I was told that he did not love me. I was told that I was being dramatic as I was looking at my dead Love's body! I was glared at and ignored by his high school friends and his high school girlfriend. Three or four people would spread some story about how I was crazy ect while people walked in. Yet I was blamed for drama, even though I spent all the time sitting at the pew crying. I was told that my love had gay sex (by his very confused gay crossdressing friend whom was in love with him). My guy was the least gay person I've met (yes I have gay friends, it isn't about the gay part, but the lies). My Love was no longer around to defend himself and this disgusting thing was telling lies about him! My Love's funeral for me turned into a terrible ordeal. His family was minimally supportive, but that was all. Everything from that time is tainted. I've fantasized about killing myself in the past, but never even have attempted it. I'm not brave enough and the permanence of it is scary. Now though, it's like some secret veil has been lifted. If he could do it, why can't I? If he could hang himself in that dark prison cell all by himself, a slow painful death, why can't I swallow a bottle of pills or walk myself into the beautiful Pacific Ocean? I loved him. He loved me. It was a team effort. We would get thru this shitty life together. We would be each other's cheerleaders. We would encourage each other and as long as we had each other we could DO IT. It was beyond sex and all that. Our friendship was always first and we were just similar spirits. He called me an hour before he robbed the store and I didn't pick up becasue I was upstairs playing Frontierville on Facebook. I feel like guilt made flesh!!! My best friend knew he was addicted to pills, but she hadn't told me. He would disappear for a few days and ignore my texts, but I thought he was just being a guy. The last week, he told me that "life in general is exhausting." I told him to quit using his depression as an excuse to be a jerk. I SAID that? I apologized on facebook, but those were really my last words to him. His last phone message to me said that he was sorry that things were going "shitty." He said that he was just going thru a rough time right now. He asked me to not hold it against him and that he cared about me more than I could ever know. THOSE were his last words to me. MY SOUL BREAKS. I know I didn't tell him to get drunk and rob a pharmacy at 3 in the afternoon. I didn't tell him to steal all those pills. He is the one who made those decisions just as he made all the bad decisions before. I still love him, bad decisions and all, but I can't blame myself. I certainly never thought he would hang himself in jail. The horror of it, the image of it that I didn't even see, makes me want to kill myself. I was supposed to be his voice of reason and I failed. I failed him at everything. If I had just drove over to him, or called him at the right time, or let him come visit me. If I had just made him be more honest with what he was doing. If I just made sure he was staying away from bad people. He was only 26. Old enough to make his own decisions, I know. I miss him everyday and it hurts so much. I don't want to die, but I am disenchanted with life. I know the SECRET that there is no point to life. Work a shitty job, pop out a few shitty kids, grow old, get cancer die. SUFFER SUFFER SUFFER. If there was an easy button I would be with my love now. Except I don't believe in Heaven, so that keeps me here as well. I have a dog I love and I can't abandon him. I'm pretty sure my brother expects me to kill myself, but eh. I have my dog. I will FOREVER miss my love. I don't care if I appear crazy or do irrational things right now because I'm grieving! I don't care what others say or thing (hello small town idiots). Even if I ever meet someone else (I'm 25), the other will have to understand that a large section of my heart belongs to my love. I'm not being melodramatic. I've always been a very empathetic person, and my love was always there for me. I could walk out into the ocean RIGHT now. It's right out the door. I'm not going to though. I have many problems right now, but I'm going to think about life tomorrow. Hopefully I can go on without my Love. I think of all the war widows from all the wars. But suicide is a different monster. I'm just so lonely without him, and suicide is looking like a great relief to my endless exhaustion.