Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2007 16:38:49 -0400
From: Jake Toksmer <jtoksmer@gmail.com>
Subject: College and Grad School 9

Thanks to everyone who's been reading, thanks to all of you who've written
to encourage me.  I anticipate taking a break from writing/reminiscing,
since it's taken a lot for me to write this part.

Jake


Chapter 9: Not What I Planned to Write


The camping trip chapter was the last one concerning Jeremy... or at least
that was my intention.  But it doesn't make sense to move on to my
self-destructive period (aka, when I started doing things I wouldn't have
ever expected) without knowing why I became self-destructive.  It's not as
easy as a break-up, or that we simply didn't get along after a certain
point.

Based on at least a couple of emails I've read (and a special thank you to
everyone who's written), many of you have read through the lines and know
that Jeremy and I were most definitely in love.  One thing I didn't
mention, though, was all the times Jeremy and I couldn't do things because
of his bad headaches.

He had had them for a long time - since before college, actually - and we
assumed they were just migraines.  In late March, however, of that year, he
had a couple more problems.  He had forgotten some things all at once, he
lost his sense of balance a couple of times, just falling over as we
walking, and he one night forgot where he was and who everyone else was
around him altogether.  Our camping trip had been in the middle of March,
and this was about a week after that.

I'll apologize now if this "chapter" seems a little disjointed or rambling.
It's very hard for me to write, but it's something that I now owe those of
you who've been reading, in addition to Jeremy and me.

We - or rather, he - scheduled a doctor's appointment.  I drove him to
doctor after doctor, appointment after appointment, and specialist after
specialist.  Finally we got the results, and it was cancer.  He had not
one, not two, but several different tiny brain tumors, each pushing on
different parts of his brain that had caused the problems above.

He was devastated; I was devastated.  I couldn't do anything about it,
obviously, besides love him.  And in case it never came through before (and
thanks to those of you who saw it even though I didn't write it), I did
love him, so very much.  We spent DAYS crying, I think, when the news first
came back.  They still were checking to see if it had spread, though (he
had had these headaches for a long time and it was our biggest fear), and
tried to go on.

In a very amazing display of pride, Jeremy came out to his fraternity.  He
did it very publicly at one of their meetings and got a really, really good
reaction.  He was surprised - so was I when he told me - and he told them
two days later about the cancer but that he still intended to move into his
room in the fall if they'd let him (some requirement about living in the
house at least a year or something... all I knew was he wasn't going to be
living with me off-campus - a good thing since I hadn't yet told Dave).
They were very positive about his sexuality, about him living in the house,
and about his upcoming treatment over the summer.

He was very quickly put on medication and chemo and radiation.  I'm sorry
that I can't remember all of the details or when it all occurred, but he
was on all kinds of stuff in no time.

The cancer, by the way, was everywhere.  It was in his brain, where they
had picked it up, but in his lymph nodes and had metastasized into his
lungs, his pancreas, his testicles, and someplace else.  It was everywhere.
The chances were slim, and he wanted to finish out the school year, so he
was burning several candles at both ends.  Everything was very, very
aggressive and I was SO amazed at how he dealt with it all.  He later told
me I was his strength through it all, staying so positive and smiling and
sitting with him for all of it - he didn't know that I cried myself to
sleep the nights we weren't together or that I could barely concentrate on
schoolwork.

Anyway, having told his fraternity he said he'd be bringing me to their
formal.  He had just started losing his hair and was pretty lethargic, but
he took a nap that day and we went, scooping out a fair clump of hair on
the side of his head right before we left for the house.  We got there and
I knew some of his fraternity brothers - none were too surprised to see me,
they knew Jeremy and I hung out a lot and probably suspected something.
They were so friendly to me, and so caring towards Jeremy - you'd swear he
had at least ten actual brothers in that group, trying to make sure every
single one of his needs was met.  Well, every need but one - that was my
department.

The frat had a bus to take everyone to and from the venue - a ballroom a
fair distance away in Atlanta.  We rode for a while and Jeremy fell asleep
on my shoulder.  The dates of the other brothers in particular thought we
were an adorable couple, which made me smile.  Most of the brothers treated
me as though I was just one of the guys, one or two were fairly ambivalent.
Absolutely no one was unpleasant except for one who said if I hurt Jeremy
he'd kill me; and I told him not worry - I'd take care of that myself if I
hurt Jeremy.

We went to the ball and danced like a normal couple.  Well, for the most
part.  We took turns leading, of course, and we had to sit out the faster
songs.  It was too much for Jeremy.  We sat out a lot of dances and mingled
with people at a table along the side off the dance floor.  By the end of
the night, Jeremy was almost gone entirely.  He just couldn't stay awake.
He had rested his head on my shoulder and just drifted off.

One of the girls there was talking to me at the time and I told her not to
worry, he was just tired.  I could feel him breathe - I wasn't worried, he
was sleeping a lot these days.  Getting him up was a problem, though.  They
called everyone down to go to the bus (the reason for the bus was that so
no one would drive/drink/drive again) and I rocked him to get him up.  He
barely gained consciousness enough to climb onto my back.  Yes, I was the
"girl" at a frat formal that had to carry his boyfriend out on his back.

Or I tried.  The stairs were tough to traverse and I made it down about two
when FOUR of Jeremy's fraternity brothers came up and asked if they could
help.  I said sure, and the largest of them (not a football player, but
could've fooled me), literally picked up Jeremy like a doll and carried him
like a baby in his arms down to the bus.  One of the brothers put his arm
around my shoulders and said how much everyone liked Jeremy as one of their
new brothers, how much he and his friends had liked me, and how much they
hoped everything would turn out.

When we got back to campus we headed back to the dorm with the help of the
brothers.  I was so blown away by how they treated him and me both - caring
and gentle, without any thought to our sexuality.  They helped me get him
back to our dorm and to his room, where all but one left us.  I thanked him
profusely and started to undo Jeremy's tuxedo.  He was awake, but
definitely out of it, and needed a bit of help.  The guy, who's named I
can't even remember now, helped me out and hung up Jeremy's tuxedo as I got
his clothes off.  I helped Jeremy into his bed (as I did every night these
days - I didn't want him to fall) and closed the door behind me as I went
back to my own room.  The other guy left with me and I thanked him - he
told me not to worry about it and said to let him know if I needed anything
else.

I wanted to write the above about the formal so that everyone knows our
relationship wasn't some closed-door thing that randomly came out to other
people.

The really hard bit starts now.

After finals Jeremy was going to go home to Pennsylvania for the summer.
He had a lot of treatment still to go and by now had no hair, was very
weak, and was feeling bad most of the time.  We still hung out all the
time, but sex between us had become very, very, very rare.  And that was it
for a while, if we did make love, because it wore him out.  After finals he
went home right away.

They were shrinking the tumors, or so they hoped, and were thinking they
would have everything under control and small enough to operate soon.

I was home at my parents' house, just outside of Atlanta, and started
working my summer job.  It wasn't anything to write home about - I was
working for Publix, bagging groceries, stocking shelves... you know, the
grocery store gig that a lot of college students do for the summer.

I had gone home at the end of the second week of May, but the first week of
June Jeremy's mom called.  I was panicked, but she reassured me that things
were going well and Jeremy wanted me to know.  He had had a couple of
surgeries right after he got home, it turned out, and hadn't had time to
tell me and everything.  She said he was comfortable, was already home, and
said if I wanted to come up, I should.

I talked to my parents about it and they knew Jeremy and the whole story
and knew I loved him.  They told me not to worry about it, to go to him,
and we'd figure it all out later.

I jumped in the car and took off.  I think from the time I talked to
Jeremy's mom to the time I was packed and on the road was all of six hours.
I still had to go to work, explain myself, quit, get everything packed, and
get moving.  And it is a LONG drive to the middle of Pennsylvania, where
I'd never been.  I drove all night, which made it easy, but seemed to hit
rush hour traffic in both DC and Baltimore.  In a manual transmission, it
wasn't the most fun I'd ever had.

Anyway, I got to Jeremy's house and his parents welcomed me as though I
were a long-lost son.  This was the first time they had met me and it was
really nice.  Jeremy and I had such wonderful support around us it was
almost unreal.

Jeremy looked absolutely terribly, though.  He had no hair, and scars
everywhere from incisions, tubes, i.v.s, etc.  I hugged him ever so gently
and then kissed him lightly, right on the lips, with his parents right
there in the room.  He smiled, and I turned to look at his parents, who
were both standing there next to each other with peculiar expressions on
their faces - not unhappy, just peculiar.  I decided not to worry about it
- I was here for Jeremy.

I spent hours with Jeremy, just sitting next to his bed, in his bed holding
him (as long as I didn't hurt him), and getting him water or what little
food he wanted to eat.

His mother came up to tell us it was dinnertime and to come on down.  I
helped Jeremy up and we walked slowly to the stairs and down those to the
kitchen.  After dinner, Jeremy was tired, and I took him upstairs.  I went
back down after he was asleep (which didn't take long) and asked his mother
if there was anything I could do to help.  She said everything was cleared
up from dinner and to just relax, she was sure I'd had a long day.  I said
I was fine and asked where Jeremy's dad was... I found him outside walking
around my car.  He had plenty of questions for me about it, and since my
dad and I had rebuilt it, I knew everything about it.

We had a good talk, and I was really hoping I was winning them over.  I was
in love with their son, and didn't want things to go badly, of course.

We were getting ready to go back into the house when he grabbed my arm.

"Jake, I'm really glad you're here.  It took a lot of Jeremy to tell us
about you, and we were pretty, uh, surprised at first.  We just never
expected to have a gay son... but that he's found you... well, we're very
impressed, and it's obvious how much you love Jeremy.  Thanks for
coming..."

"Mr. M-----, [I'm not revealing this bit] I do love your son.  I'd do
anything for him.  Thanks for letting me come up here to spend some time
with him."

That was it for me and Jeremy's dad that night.  But I spoke to his mom
right before going up to bed.

"Thanks for letting me stay, Mrs. M------, I really appreciate it."

"Oh, Jake, don't mention it.  We're so glad you're here - I was hoping
you'd come up to see Jeremy."

There was something there, though.  I looked at his mom and she looked at
me.  I saw her eyes well up.  And then I knew.  And I started to cry, too.
She got up from the kitchen table (she had been reading a book) and came
over to hug me as I really lost it.  But I knew in that moment, and there
was no denying it.  Jeremy was dying.

It wasn't fast.  They had removed a lot and he started healing well.  I
even entertained the hope that everything was going to be okay.  Deep down
I knew better, but I really was riding a wave of hope as he improved from
the surgeries.  He got stronger, and after about three weeks he was itching
to get out of the house more than to the movies or the mall or wherever we
had been.

One Saturday, Jeremy's dad asked if he could drive my car and came back
about four hours later.  He took me aside when he got back and said he had
taken it to a mechanic to make sure it was driveable for long distances
(since I had just raced up from Georgia a few weeks before I was a bit
surprised, and scared that he was going to send me on my way).  He said
that Jeremy had always wanted to go on a road trip across the country, and
wasn't about to deny his son that while he could go.

And so we planned it.  A trip across the country.  His dad gave us money -
about $1000 - for the trip.  We planned our trip, checked with the doctor -
he said there wasn't anything to be done as long as Jeremy felt okay - and
I called my parents.  They thought it was a great idea and even put some
money into my account for the trip.  But I had something else I wanted to
tell them... well, I was planning to tell them.

I know this all will sound really lame, but when you're in love you do all
the lame stuff.

I called my parents a day or two later to thank them, but to tell them that
I was so in love with Jeremy.  I had no idea I could love someone so much,
and I wanted to make sure he knew.  I cried when I told them - they knew I
loved Jeremy but I think even they were surprised by how strongly I felt.
I had always been a fairly emotional guy, but this really took the cake.  I
told them I was going to - somehow - find a way to marry him while we were
on this trip, perhaps in Vegas or San Francisco or something.  My parents
were reticent, but knew better than to try to talk sense into me.

One day when Jeremy was asleep and his parents were both out I drove to a
jewelry store.  I found what I was looking for, too.  It was a very
masculine ring that had a hint of engagement about it.  Twenty minutes
later I had a ring for Jeremy, a hefty bill to pay back (men's rings are SO
much cheaper than women's rings, but it took all the meager credit I'd
accumulated in two years of college), and something to ask his parents.

And I did.  When Jeremy had gone to bed after dinner, I asked them if I
could marry him.  They were, thankfully, very pleased - VERY shocked, but
pleased.  And we all knew, and it really tears me up even today, years
later, that this was Jeremy's chance.  I showed them the ring, told them my
parents supported this, too (I had spoken to them earlier in the day), and
that I just wanted to love Jeremy.  They both cried when I told them that
(his dad tried very hard to hide it, but didn't succeed), and how much I
love their son, and they gave me their blessing and just asked that I do it
soon.  We were young, but there wasn't much time - and we knew that.

I told both of our parents that I was going to ask Jeremy to marry me as
soon as we left Pennsylvania.  My mom asked when we were leaving for the
trip, because she and my dad wanted to do something for us as part of our
"marriage."  I told them being so supportive was enough, but she said no,
they loved me, they loved Jeremy (the couple of times they had met him when
coming up to school), and were going to do something whether I liked it or
not.

I really didn't care, to be honest.  I appreciated the thought, but I just
wanted to be with Jeremy every waking and sleeping moment from now on,
until death would part us.  And I wanted that to be as far away as
possible, which meant marrying Jeremy as soon as possible.

My mom called Jeremy's mom several times over the next couple of days - I
only knew because I saw my parents' number on the caller I.D. on the phone
in Jeremy's room.  I didn't know what was being planned, and didn't want to
know.  But my mom called me specifically a couple of days later.

In case it seems like I was at Jeremy's house for a long time, I was.  I
had essentially moved in and had my own room (not married - no sleeping in
the same room.  Those were the rules and I respect that).  I got along
really well with his parents so it was easy.  I got along less well with
Jeremy's brother, Rob.  He was very skeptical of everything, but he and his
wife (he was about six years older than Jeremy) lived a couple of hours
away and we didn't see them too often.  But I won him over in the end, or
his parents explained everything.  I don't know, and it didn't matter to
me.

Anyway, it was two days before we were to leave when my mom called and said
it was all worked out.  Jeremy and I had to be in San Francisco by a
certain date.  She had booked a chapel, a hotel room for us, and "something
special."  I was SHOCKED.  And later, when I found out how much all this
cost, I realized how much my parents understood me and my love for Jeremy.
They didn't have the money for this, either - they had really run up their
credit cards to do this for me.

So we were ready, and Jeremy was none the wiser - he was just excited for
his trip across the country.

And we left.

We drove to DC first, and slowly toured the Smithsonian one day.  We were
big geeks and really spent the majority of our time at the Air&Space
Museum.  We stayed just outside of town in a Motel 6 - we had their
nationwide directory and the money from his parents and my parents, plus my
meager savings from working at the grocery store for a couple of weeks paid
for the entire trip easily.

The next day, we went into the city and went to the monuments.  We had a
great dinner at an Indian restaurant and then went to the last monument I
wanted to see - the Jefferson Memorial.  At night, it's beautiful, and from
a trip when I was a kid I remembered liking it a lot.  It didn't
disappoint.  With the lighting and the beautiful warm (well, hot) night,
Jeremy and I got out of the car and I held his hand as we slowly made our
way up to the monument.  We walked around and I said some stupid stuff
about how this was the man responsible for our freedom.  He was the reason
we could do what we want and all of that...

I did the goofy "oh my shoe is untied" thing and got down on one knee to
tie it.  And there, in front of Thomas Jefferson and about fifteen other
people wandering around, I pulled out the ring, grabbed Jeremy's hand, and
told him everything I was feeling.

I can't remember everything I said... I wish I could.  All I can say is
that I was overcome with emotion, and had to tell him how much I loved him.

"Jeremy, I've never felt this way about anyone.  I honestly didn't know it
was possible to love someone as much as I love you.  I love you with all my
heart, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you.  I want to be with you
all the time, I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.  I know things
are tough, but we'll get through it - together.  And I want to be together
with you, and only you... will you marry me?"

Choking back tears, he said yes, and we kissed long and deeply there at the
monument.  A group of ladies (I'm quite sure they were all lesbians,
actually) had stopped to watch and were also crying and then congratulated
us - they knew it was a bittersweet moment - while happy that we were going
to get married, Jeremy's little body was in such rough shape and he had not
one hair on him.  It's one thing to see someone with no hair - that's a
shaved head.  With no eyebrows?  That's cancer.  And he looked bad.  Happy,
but sick.

We drove back to the hotel and we made love.  It was slow going and I
definitely did the majority of the work (I was happy to).  But we both "had
our moment" (I'm sorry, but writing this I've gone back to euphemisms
instead of the more overt erotic language).  This wasn't sex, it was making
love, so it seems fitting.

We headed out the next morning for "the West."  We went to Chicago,
St. Louis, Alliance, Nebraska (Carhenge), the Badlands and Mount Rushmore
in South Dakota, the Tetons in Wyoming and on to Yellowstone.  Yellowstone
was absolutely beautiful.  We only spent one day there, and we didn't hike.
In the high altitude and heat of the day, Jeremy couldn't do much more than
walk a few feet before getting tired.  He seemed to be getting stronger,
yes, but it was still very rough going.

We went on to Seattle, then down the coast to San Francisco.  We arrived a
couple of days early, so we went to Yosemite and Death Valley before coming
back to San Francisco.  Yosemite is perhaps the most beautiful place in the
entire country.  I loved it - so did Jeremy.  There was no place to stay
there - I had no idea rooms and campsites have to be booked up to a year in
advance, so we headed back to San Francisco the next day after staying at
yet another Motel 6.  When we got there, we checked into the hotel my mom
had told me to go to, and shock of my life when both of our families were
there, already checked in.

Yes, our parents, and our siblings (his brother and his wife and my sister)
were all there.  We went to dinner together, everyone having a blast,
before calling it a night.  The next day was all sight-seeing in the early
part of the day.  The next day was a Saturday, and we picked up rental
tuxedos and all headed to this chapel my mom had booked.

I think Jeremy and I both cried throughout the service.  His brother was
his best man, my sister my maid of honor (or maybe she was the best lady
and he was the man of honor or something), but we had a tiny wedding in
this beautiful little chapel and went out to celebrate in the Castro.  It
was a nice, fun restaurant and since it was the Castro, they were all about
celebrating a gay wedding.

We went back to the hotel and made love as a married couple.  It was a
beautiful experience - we were so in love.  And to sleep next to one
another, as husbands, was fantastic.  I know it shouldn't matter, but it
did.  We were one, we had our rings, we were in love, and for the first
time since March I forgot about Jeremy's illness.  I wanted that night to
last forever, and in some ways, it has; my memory has preserved it and I
remember it even now.  Every detail, every breath Jeremy took, every
movement he made.  He was mine and I was his.

We toured everywhere in San Francisco for a few days with our families.  It
was really special, going to all of these sites with everyone I love was
really more than I could have imagined.  Each night, courtesy of our
emotional states and the meds Jeremy was on, we both laughed and cried a
little at how lucky we were.

We left our families in San Francisco and headed south and east, back
through Yosemite and on towards Las Vegas.  Vegas was a lot more fun than I
was expecting, even if we were not able to drink or anything.  The next day
we went on to the Grand Canyon, and though I really wanted to, I didn't
think Jeremy could handle a donkey ride to the canyon floor.  We went on
from there and hit Santa Fe, which was adorable.  It was small, but
everyone there was SO nice and welcoming.  Yes, I know the song from RENT,
but people there are so very nice.  I would have liked to spend the rest of
Jeremy's days there, but he was doing so well, we really thought that could
be years.  And Santa Fe is really, really expensive.

We drove through Texas as fast as my SD1 would go (which is pretty fast,
actually), and into Oklahoma.  Jeremy had a fraternity brother in Tulsa who
we called, who welcomed us with open arms.  He laughed when we told him we
had gotten married, but thought it was "cool."  We had a good time that
night, but definitely had to watch it as his parents were not very
open-minded.

We drove through Memphis and on through Alabama before heading into
Atlanta.  We went to my parents' house and they had decorated my room for a
couple of newlyweds.  It probably was a little creepy, thinking back on it
now - but my parents were so supportive and really wanted to do this for me
(I sometimes wonder if they specifically wanted a gay son).  What I felt
for Jeremy did not happen every day, and they knew that and knew our time
was precious.  They said very plainly that since we were now married, we
could live in the house as a married couple.  Of course, it also meant that
my room was no longer MY room.  It was technically now a guest room.  But
whatever.

We stayed for a couple of weeks.  I introduced Jeremy to all of my friends
and we told them about our marriage.  Most of my friends, who had seen me
date guys and girls in high school, were very supportive as they always had
been.  My closest friends wanted to take me out for a bachelor party of
sorts, and Jeremy was happy for me to go out.  My sister took him to a
movie while I went out - and what started out as a nice night took an
emotional turn for the worst.

I had forgotten to explain how Jeremy looked before my friends met him.  We
really were feeling so hopeful and he was doing so well and I was used to
his fatigue that we didn't think about it.  We were allowing ourselves a
bit of happiness that we cherished.  Anyway, some of his hair was growing
back, but they brought it up when we were out and I explained that he had
cancer and it wasn't good.

They asked me how bad, and when I started to tell them I started to cry.
We were at the restaurant where we had had dinner and I just lost it.  My
friends (two girls, three guys) all crowded around me as close as they
could and held me.  My two best friends, Nate and Brian, were on either
side of me and held me tight.  I was inconsolable, though.  Hours went by,
I think, and I just cried and cried.  Eventually I got my act together as
the restaurant was closing; but I had gotten a lot of my feelings out -
they had been pent up in me for a while.

The dropped me off and Jeremy was already asleep.  I crawled into bed
beside him and put my arm around him.  I had cried all my tears out, so I
enjoyed the gentle rhythm of his breathing as I laid there, cuddling up
against him.

We eventually packed up and went back to his parents' house in
Pennsylvania.  There, just like at my parents' house, we were allowed to
sleep together as a married couple.  His parents were so sweet to us.  And
though I hadn't noticed until then, or unconsciously ignored it, Jeremy was
slowing down.  But he asked me to head home about a week before classes
started.  I needed to pack, it was true, and he needed to get ready, too.
He fully intended to go back for his sophomore year.

I drove home, packed, and headed back to school.  Our apartment that Dave
and I had rented with another couple of guys was pretty nice.  Not too far
off campus and everything was new.  I was impressed - Dave had handled the
entire thing, and he had done a good job.

After getting settled I called Jeremy to make sure he was on his way.  He
was.  My husband was coming back to school.  Of course, things were going
to be tougher.  He and I were married (don't start on the legality of
same-sex marriage in Georgia, or anywhere else - we were married, plain and
simple), and yet we hadn't done ANYTHING over the summer about telling
friends at school or working on a solution - a plan, essentially, to live
together.

We figured we'd get it worked out.  His parents moved him into his room at
the frat house - I was there, of course.  And I basically ended up living
there as soon as he was moved in.  The guys there were shocked at how
Jeremy looked, and it was drastic after the summer.  But they helped him
out as much as they could and were just so supportive.  After meeting them
and watching them with Jeremy and how they dealt with me, I will never,
ever believe anything bad about a fraternity.

Classes started the next week.  The stress was too much for Jeremy.  He
tried, but couldn't cut it.  His health fell almost instantly and two weeks
after he got to school he had to leave.  I drove him home over the weekend,
but we left his stuff in the hope that it was temporary.

I went back to school but I wasn't doing well either.  I felt fine, but I
missed him so much.  I wanted to visit, and he sounded so weak on the
phone, but he told me to stay put, that he was okay.

For about a week.

His mom called me and said that if I could, I should come visit.  She said
it would make Jeremy feel better, and I wanted to believe her.  But I knew
what was happening.  My husband, my lover, the largest part of my heart,
was dying.

I got two tickets before I got through North Carolina.  I explained to the
third cop that stopped me what was happening - he didn't care, and started
looking for some other reason to haul me in.  Some stupid little fag in his
district, and he was going to teach me a lesson.  He couldn't find
anything, though, and I took off.  I kept it cool until I was in Virginia.
Another ticket, lots of crying, but a very understanding highway patrol -
both cops that stopped me asked me what the hurry was, and asked me to
PLEASE slow down and be careful before writing the ticket or warning (the
second officer only wrote me a warning).  Since they caught me driving in
excess off 90mph, I was lucky to get off so easily.  I don't know if they
called ahead or what, but I saw two more cops and was definitely speeding
(not over 90, but definitely over 80) when I went by them.  No one touched
me.

I got to Jeremy's home and knocked on the door.  His dad was there and came
outside to take me to the hospital.  I had been driving forever and was so
tired, but I wanted to see Jeremy so badly.  We went to the hospice (not a
hospital) and Jeremy was there, hooked up to countless monitors and fluids
and who knows what.  He looked... terrible.  He really did.  Yet he was
still beautiful to me, and I walked right up and kissed him.  He was
asleep, but it woke him up.  He was partly very angry and partly very happy
to see me.  But I was just happy to see him.  Happy and sad.

Jeremy continued to get worse.  They either couldn't explain it or, if they
did, I didn't listen.  I didn't leave his side.  They let me sleep on the
little couch in the room, and when he was up, I was up.  When he was asleep
I was up.  I took catnaps as I could, but I didn't sleep much for the next
week.

I missed all of my classes, but I didn't care.  I had told Dave that Jeremy
was dying, and wanted to be there for him and his family, and that any
bills or anything I'd repay him when I got back.  I called my professors,
and gave them varying excuses from "I'm very sick" to the truth to one
professor, telling him I had married a man who was dying.  I'm still close
to that professor, who's always been a mentor to me.

Jeremy knew what was happening.  That was the hardest part.  He knew, and
neither of us could do anything about it.  We talked about it one night
after they removed all of the tubes except for an i.v. with painkillers; we
cried and cried.  I felt so helpless, but he still had a smile on his face
other than that one night.

After that we only stuck to happy topics.  But Jeremy was fading fast.  I
barely left his side to eat, then would rush back to his bedside.

His parents were there, as was his brother, the day he died.  I had been
sitting next to him, looking at him, telling him I love him every time he
was conscious.  But as the day wore on, that became less and less frequent.
By the afternoon, I was talking to him, telling him I love him, holding his
hand, but he didn't stir.  His parents would talk to him, and his brother
would talk to him occasionally.

His breathing got more and more shallow and further apart.  And eventually,
he took a breath and then didn't take another.  I was watching him, and I
knew when it happened.  It was a beautiful, terribly painful moment.
Beautiful in that it was all over for Jeremy - he wasn't going to hurt
anymore.  It was all over, and he was okay.  Painful, because my heart
broke.  I stood up, still holding his hand.

"Jeremy?"

Nothing.

"Jer...?"  I could barely spit it out; I was starting to cry.

"I love you, Jeremy... I love you."

And I leaned forward and kissed him.  He was gone, and there was nothing I
could do.

His parents came forward and kissed their son, and told him they loved him,
too.  I became a wreck... silent, yes, but a wreck.

I stayed there until we were asked to leave.  I didn't sleep that night, I
just laid there in Jeremy's bed - our bed - crying.  I couldn't stop.  I'm
sure the whole house was up.

The next morning my parents flew up.

Jeremy's parents made funeral arrangements, and we notified people.  I told
Dave that Jeremy had died, and he told me to give Jeremy's family his
condolences.  I told him I wouldn't be home for a few more days, until
after the funeral.

At the funeral, I spoke.  Several members of his fraternity had come up and
were very supportive.  I met Jennifer, his former girlfriend.  I met
several of his friends that I hadn't met before.  They all told me that
they liked what I had said, and that it was clear we both loved each other.
Jeremy's brother spoke, too.  I really lost it when he talked about me and
how I'd made his brother happy.  It was a very hard day for me, as it was
for his entire family.

I stayed for a few more days before heading back to school.  I went back
down with Rob, Jeremy's brother, and helped him load everything into a
truck he rented.  A lot of Jeremy's stuff he left with me.  Right before he
left, Rob gave me the wedding and engagement rings I had given Jeremy.
Having held it together and even managing to have smiled a few times, I
totally lost it again, and so did he, and we held each other as we mourned
the loss of his brother, my lover.

I do not have a favorite book - I love literature too much.  However, I do
particularly like *A Prayer for Owen Meany* by John Irving.  Aside from
their height, Jeremy and Owen didn't share much in common, but it's become
very special to me - at least the end of the book.  I was sitting in my bed
about three days after Rob had left, holding (and smelling) an old
sweatshirt of Jeremy's.  I suddenly felt the urge to get the book and went
over to the bookshelf to get it.  If you have not read the book, please do.
At the very least, turn to the last page and read the last section.  I sat
down and turned to the last page:

"Into paradise may the angels lead you."

I went to Jeremy's grave on his birthday, and read that aloud to him.  And
then, on my knees, I read the last sentence:

"O God - please give him back!  I shall keep asking you."

For those of you who read this chapter, I appreciate it.  I'm sorry to have
thrown this into what is supposed to be an erotic stories archive, but I
couldn't help it.  Since I started writing stuff down, I realized I wasn't
writing the things I was supposed to write.  I had intended to say a little
bit about Jeremy and I and skip right to the next "chapter" of my life, but
ended up writing all of this other stuff.

I don't know when I'll post again - but I promise I will.  It's been good
to relive and remember all of my relationship with Jeremy.  He was so
special, and I loved him very much.  To all of you who made it this far,
thanks for sticking through this.  To all of you who have written me
already, a special thanks to you for your encouragement and understanding.

There won't be much emotion in my writing for a long time.  After Jeremy
died, I didn't feel anything for a long time, so I should be able to write
the way I'm supposed to for the archive.

Thank you for letting me share this with you all.