Dan

Mel first said the words "I love you" to me on February 22, 1988. We had been seeing each other for several weeks. I was going away on business and Mel had dropped me off at the airport. He said it just after I gave him a hug and a kiss and headed for the gate. I was stunned and couldn't speak. He thought I didn't hear him. I cried when I got on the plane. I had never heard those words before from a boyfriend. When I got to my destination I called in an order of roses and had the card say "I love you too." They arrived the next day. Mel's mom was a bit concerned that Mel was receiving flowers from someone. When Mel got home he immediately thought that the roses were for his mom. She said "no, they're for you!" Mel read the card and began to cry. We had fallen in love with each other. I'm so glad that we did. Our love continued to grow for all the years that we were together. I had expected to grow old with Mel. Even though we were quite different, we shared a love that would endure a lifetime.

For nine years Mel and I shared a life together. Mel was social director, homemaker, interior designer, and my partner. I was the husband, gardener, carpenter and plumber. It was a good fit. We had a good relationship. We both gave the other pleanty of space to enjoy life, yet we were both completely monogamous. Mel would go to thursday-night Bingo, and I would play rollerblade hockey. But at night, almost everynight for nine years, we would be together, holding each other, and wanting to be nowhere else. That would have lasted a lifetime.

I miss Mel intensely. I wonder if I'll ever love someone that much again, or if anyone will love me that much. Right now I can't imagine that ever happening and it makes me very sad. Grief is awesome. It hurts more that anything I have ever felt in my life. I broke my leg and arm in a motorcycle crash, I broke my leg again and had a collapsed lung from a car crash, and I broke my other leg playing hockey. None of those things hurt me as much as loosing Mel. They don't even come close. I'm healing now, feeling much better, but there were times when I could have just died I felt so bad. I now understand how someone could take their life. I had never felt that bad before.

When Mel was very sick, just weeks before his passing, I was hanging on to the hope that he would heal and survive. Friends and nurses were saying "Mel is dying. Are you going to be OK?". That angered me at times. How dare anyone say that Mel was dying. He was sick, near death, but he was still alive. "And besides, the thought of Mel dying was not allowed. We must all think HEAL, LIFE, HEALTH, RECOVERY." I clung on to every shread of hope there was, and so did Mel. And the second part of the question,"...Are you going to be OK?". Of course I was going to be OK. I would respond with "I'm OK, Mel's the one who is sick. No matter what happens I'll be alive. I'll be OK." Now I know why they were asking if I'd be OK, simply being alive does not make one OK. And I wasn't OK for a long time.

A year later...

I'm doing OK now. With support from family and friends I have survived the intense grief. The Center for Living with Dying was also very helpful. I still light a candle every night and make an entry in my journal. I always write a message to Mel. One way of keeping in touch.

I'm still single. I think I may be ready to date, but I'm so busy with work and hockey (by the way, I am an ice hockey junkie) that I don't get out much. I hate being single. I liked being married. I miss Mel.

Two years later...

It's Mel's 34th B-Day today. I still miss Mel awful bad, but I'm doing well. I've updated my look with an earring, goatee, shaved head and better fashion sense. My dear friend Shoji has become my fashion consultant and personal trainer. He's doing a great job. I started dating recently. I feel good. Life is good. I wish Mel was here to share it.

Three years later...

It's been 3 years since Mel passed away. I still think of him daily and write a note to him in my journal each night before I sleep. I have been dating, Devon and Wilmot. I have many very good friends. The job is great, the cats are well, and Kyle is still here. But I'm not 100% well. Last summer I found myself waking and choking in the night. I would rise from bed and gasp for air, choking, then it would clear. It was very scary. While swimming on vacation I choked on water several times. I believe this was all due to witnessing Mel as he choked with pneumonia. I developed "sympathetic suffering" or whatever. Recently I was suffering from anxiety and insomnia. It stems from Post Traumatic Stress. Thanksgiving was particularly hard. I found that I had grieved for Mel but I hadn't grieved for me. So I did. I sobbed for days. A howling sob from deep inside. I purged most of the pain, but a bit still remains. The anxiety is almost gone, but I still have days when my heart beats heavily. Insomnia continues to be a problem. Hockey is good. I'm playing twice a week, plus I'm going to the gym, so I'm in pretty good shape. I hope the anxiety clears for good, its an awful feeling, a haunting.

Updated February 10, 2000.