I am still in shock. I know this because I am not really dealing with Jason’s death. I have so much on my plate right now, it’s kind of ridiculous.

I had to wait for a bio-hazard cleaning crew to clean my apartment before I could go home, and they had to get three estimates before hiring a crew. The apartment manager had the first estimate done a few hours after the investigation was completed, a mere hours after Jason died. I was hopeful the cleaning would happen quickly. Well, they took their sweet ass time. I waited two weeks to be able to go home.

The walk from the parking lot to my front door seemed like a five mile trek. As I approached the door, I noticed a very mean looking paper attached to the clip on the door. I knew what it was. I unfolded the paper and read the words, “30 days to vacate the premises”, and the worst word of all, “EVICTION”. All of this before I even opened the fucking door.

Once I opened the door, I immediately noticed all of the carpet was gone. I walked into the bedroom, and the bed of course, was gone. I sat in my recliner and took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe I was having this feeling. Again. Deja-fucking-Vu.

Just a little over two years ago, I walked into me and my husband’s apartment for the first time after his death. I sat on my couch and breathed just like this. I had the same feeling, that my love would never walk back into this place again. This apartment would never feel the same. Life would never be the same. What I never thought in a million years, was that I would be sitting in a different apartment two years from that moment, feeling the exact same feeling about someone else.

I thought I was immune from this type of tragedy happening again, I really did. Whenever Jason would take off for hours or days, I would be comforted by the thought of at least not having to worry about him dying the way Keith had. Shit. The universe has sick fucking jokes, let me tell you.

Jason has been gone three weeks now, and I have hit brick walls in appealing my eviction, I still have to pack up this place, and I have two weeks to get the hell out of here. To say I’m stressed out is the understatement of all freaking time.

I also feel so incredibly alone. I have some support and I am so grateful to have it. I never thought I would be left high and dry like this by a certain handful of people, but I know from experience that death can bring out the absolute worst in people sometimes. Especially when the people are grieving the loss so hard. At the same time, how the fuck do these people think it feels to be me?!

I have spent my life alongside this man. I sacrificed a lot, including my family to be with him. Not only did I watch him end his life, the nightmare is continuing for me in ways only I am having to deal with. I have the threat of losing me and Jason’s home and my housing program all together, my children are barely speaking to me, Jason’s family seems to blame me for everything and are pretty much pretending I never existed. Jason’s friends either can’t handle being around me, or blame me as well. My mom is battling stage four COPD and my sister is so self absorbed I would be surprised if I even enter her mind on a semi-regular basis. Well, unless it’s to talk shit about me or accuse me of using drugs. I’m sure the accusations make it easier for her to turn her back. Otherwise she’s just a shitty sister, right?

So, my reality right now is fucking crazy! I am getting better sleep, however. My psychiatrist gave me a new medication that is keeping me from dreaming, and that has been such a blessing. The final moments of Jason’s life replay in my mind all day. Before this medication, even my sleep was invaded. There was no time-out for the flashbacks. I am finally getting rest. Not a ton of rest, but more than I was.

I have managed to couch surf my way out of staying at my apartment for the most part. It’s incredibly difficult to stay there. It was hard to stay at the old place after Keith died because it had been out home together, but he jumped off a bridge. Nothing could have prepared me for the feelings involved with being in my current apartment after Jason dying there in our bedroom. The residual energy left by Jason is completely different from what had remained of Keith. It’s much thicker. It’s practically alive if that makes sense.

I stayed in my apartment on Valentine’s Day, I am not so sure it was the right choice, but at times throughout the day I was comforted by Jason’s palatable presence. At one point I was laying on the couch and took a photo of a heart sticker I was wearing for Jason in honor of the occasion. I posted the photo on Facebook and upon further inspection, discovered something resembling a face. Jason’s face. I’ll share it so you can see for yourself.

Hmmm…

Whether it’s Jason or not can’t be proven of course, but the photo gave me comfort. To me, it was proof that Jason’s spirit is with me, watching over me, protecting and loving me.

My world is completely upside down and crazy right now. Jason’s presence is having a grounding effect that is so needed and I am grateful. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to want to keep him with me, and a part of me does hope his spirit will eventually move on to wherever he’s supposed to be. At this moment, I’m satisfied feeling that right here next to me is where he is supposed to be. I need it. I guess I’m more of a selfish person than I thought…