Goodbye, Again

Amir and Jason, late '90s

I've been neglecting this blog due to yet another horrible tragedy in our family: the death of my husband, Jason, at age 40. As most of you know, Jason and Amir were friends since their teenage years, sharing a biting wit, a keen sense of humor and a love of wordplay, music and Star Wars. Sadly, they also shared a susceptibility to anxiety and depression and the resulting tendency to isolate from friends and family while self-medicating with substances (pills for Amir; booze for Jason).

Amir and Jason were both troubled souls, both tortured by insecurity and crippling self-doubt coupled with a somewhat inflated sense of self-worth common among addicts. They each were keenly aware of how incredibly intelligent, funny, creative and sensitive they were and yet they struggled to achieve the successes and milestones so many of their friends had. There's a reason Jason stepped into my life and became my best friend, lover and partner: I fell deeply in love with a man who was a kindred spirit to my brother, the closest male to me in my life.

I don't believe in heaven or an afterlife, but I can't deny the sense of calm I get in imagining Amir's and Jason's spirits together somewhere, discussing their lives and sharing their relief at being free of the horrific prison of addiction. The idea that they both are at peace--their troubled minds quieted, their anxiety finally quelled--is a comfort to me as I mourn them in different ways. They are no longer struggling, no longer questioning, no longer sad or confused or anxious, no longer suffering.

That just leaves the rest of us to suffer in their absence.