Blog Post

Children everywhere


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Jacob at one of our favorite breakfast spots in Tallahassee “Bread and Roses Cafe” he would always order the Blue Plate – two eggs, two pieces of toast with local jam, garlic kale, veggie sausage and a biscuit for 7 dollars even.

*when I say “people” or “no one” I am excluding (obviously) my dear dear two widow friends, mom and dad, mother-in-law and sister-in-law, they know this but to make extra clear*

Rabbi Steve Leder once spoke about a lecture he heard by the youngest child to survive Auschwitz. He said there were no children in Auschwitz (he was six then), you became an adult as soon as you walked through the electrified barbed-wire fence. There were no children in Auschwitz.

He went on to say that one does not become a grown-up until they have suffered excruciatingly deep and horrible pain. This means that some children can become adults at 8 or 25 (like myself) or you could have adults that remain children well into their sixties – maybe their parents die, their own body fails in some critical way, or their child – the light of their eyes succumbs to disease or death, or their life crumbles down in some other way… but they are still a child until this deep suffering occurs.  THIS IS HAPPENING EVERYWHERE TO ME. All I see are children walking around in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s. And of course everyone my fucking age is a child. A bunch of ignorant assholes. With no empathy – no idea of the suffering anyone is going through. No insight that the world will bring everyone to their knees – even a young six-year-old even a young 25-year-old widow. Soon to be 27… the age Jacob was when he left this world and our future was destroyed. People are cruel, man. I haven’t left my bed in ages and I went to ONE yoga class to see if it would be a nice distraction of the misery of my life. I went with my mom, and we were casually talking before class (like everyone else – and not loud) and this woman who looked to be around 70 or so looked to me right in the eyes and said: “why don’t you just shut the fuck up.” Yes, this really happened. Then we left. I don’t even want to go into what an evil bitch she is – it just demonstrates how the world is filled with children – I am surrounded by them (especially in my age group.) Well – will be surrounded by them when I go back to school – and it will be unbearable. I just chucked to myself because currently I am really surrounded by no one but me and Jacob’s cat, but in a months time, I will be thrown into the real world after almost two years in hiding.

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Dad, Jacob, and mom 2011

How can I give a shit about a coconut milk cold brew and a lavender scone when THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS FUCKING GONE? Just predicting my future grad student cohort’s vapid interests and knowing my millennial generation’s obsession with the chewed up bowl – the empty – the smoke and mirrors – you know, nothing real. The record player because it looks cool – the cassette box because it looks cool – needs approval to like movies rather than form their own fucking opinion – refusing to watch Woody Allen or Alfred Hitchcock because of their personal lives WHO GIVES A SHIT? LOOK AT THEIR ART YOU WANNA BE INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISTIC INTELLECTUAL. Or whatever new word you want to call whatever you all are. EVEN ONE OF HITCHCOCK’S sexual victims said everyone should watch his films and that he was a genius, just a sick man. Ugh. Form your own goddamn opinion. Nothing authentic anymore. Nothing genuine. The last human on earth so fucking authentic and genuine it was holy was Jacob. And people that never knew Jacob? Robbed of blinding light. There are people now that will never know “Jacob and Kaitlin” like my dad said once- it was always “Coo and Jacob” (coo my nickname). People will now never know that. And that breaks my soul. This is why I have asked my two widow friends to send me some of their favorite photos of them with their spouse so I can hang them on my wall, so they will be remembered every day together – that is one of the greatest things someone could ever do for me, but not one person has asked for a photo of me and Jacob so we will always be remembered together. After I asked them for a photo, they both said they had the same thought recently and wanted to do the same thing: to have me and Jacob’s photos around. We always save each other’s photos and videos we send on our phones. But having a physical copy is special. We get it, but the rest of the world is just cruel and stupid. Yes – I am being lazy with my words today by saying “stupid” a lot.

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“Jacob and Kaitlin” written by my sister-in-law (sister) Barbara. One of the greatest things anyone has done for me since Jacob died. I love you, Barbara.

I have read the work of many rabbis in an effort to find some insight or wisdom into my suffering or make sense of this horrible existence that has been thrown my way. I am even meeting with a rabbi at Harvard for Shabbat dinner in May. One reason I am doing this is because of Jacob and how he embraced the Jewish culture and often looked to the writings of rabbis such as Abraham Twersky for spiritual guidance (this is one of Jacob’s favorite videos by Twersky). The second reason is out of sheer and utter desperation. There are only two young widows I know of that understand my pain – and some other widows don’t even get it because they either want to stay alive and get going with their lives or they just didn’t have as deep of a love as me and my other two widow friends. I have said this before, but it is such a chilling realization in the early hours of the morning as I have awoken from another horrible nightmare that leaves me exhausted – almost no one had a love like me and Jacob. No one. And it is gone forever. This reality makes me cry the whole cold night through and weep as the sun emerges. By the way, fuck you, sun.

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Christmas 2010 with our eldest niece Lily who is now in high school! We would always come down and do fun things with her – beach, ice cream, hikes, Jacob was THE BEST UNCLE. No bias. But in all seriousness – he was amazing with children. Best Uncle.

I haven’t posted in a while because March 4th was the one and a half year mark of Jacob’s death, I didn’t hear from anyone – no surprise, I barely heard from anyone on the one year mark. Not like I wanted to – I just wanted people to tell me they were thinking of Jacob. But, it is a hard thing to face when no one loves or knows Jacob more than me – just like no one knows or loved me more than Jacob (even my parents can testify to that). And I have this enormous love and personality and beautiful soul in my head all the time, but without him earthside. We didn’t want any friends, we didn’t need any friends… it was just us. Now – just me. And I stopped posting because my depression was getting out of hand and I was back to sleeping 18 hours a day. I am not much better but I can at least try to post a little more. My posts might get shorter and turn into small memories of Jacob or a “story from my ___ dad, mom, a street corner, etc.” type segment. Speaking of a story from my dad, he was just reminding me yesterday of when they (my mom and dad) came to visit us in 2013 or so and we were all hiking at Leon Sinks Geological Area, a place Jacob and I spent a lot of time in the winter. As we were walking there was a big sinkhole in the middle of the trail and a long log to cross it. Jacob and my dad said, “yeah… we are going to go walk around”. Smart move. I decided to cross the log and I told my mom to come with me – mind you she had her purse with her keys, wallet, phone, etc. in it. Well I made it over and held my hand to let her know it was okay and that I would help her but she kept looking down and down and boom. She fell right into the water. Huge splash and screaming. “I don’t want to get sucked in!!” Man did that make Jacob laugh later when I told him she was screaming that.  My dad said that as he was walking with Jacob from afar they heard a loud thump and a scream – they met us at the other side and my mom took her purse and flipped it upside down and tons of water came pouring out. Jacob went up and hugged my mom and said “poor cringes poor cringes” and shook her shoulder. She frowned and said, “jakessss I fell jakees”. She was a good sport about it and laughed. We all did. But I had forgotten that memory until my dad brought it up. We were talking about how many times they visited us over the years and different things we did and that memory got buried in my subconscious somehow.

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Me and Jacob at Joe Mama’s for his 23rd birthday


I am “lucky” that I have my parents and some of Jacob’s family who wants to talk about Jacob – one of my widow friends who has no real friends like me, has a family that doesn’t even mention her spouse’s name. WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE!!! I will say it again. STOP. STOP. STOP. YOU MORONS. Stop tip-toeing around their name and existence. Don’t avoid talking about our soulmates. ALL WE WANT TO DO IS TALK ABOUT THEM. IT WAS NOT A DIVORCE, IT WAS A TRAGEDY. WE ARE IN LOVE. WE WILL ALWAYS BE IN LOVE. GET TO KNOW JACOB. THE ADULT, TRUE, COMPLETELY INTIMATE JACOB. The one I only knew, just like he only knew me. I know my parents would want to know every memory Jacob had to share with them if I died.  The only two people who ask me questions like “what did you and Jacob like to cook together?” or “Did Jacob ever do this…” or “Tell me how Jacob changed from middle school to 27” or “What was your funniest moment?” “What was Jacob’s favorite vinyl or most played vinyl?” ” How did you know you liked each other in middle school?” “What was Jacob’s go-to first song he put on in the car?” “What book did Jacob read over and over?” “Who was Jacob’s favorite author?” etc. etc. The only people who ask these questions are my two young widow friends. No one else gives a shit. Or rather, it is kind of an inconvenience for them to give it the time of day. Another realization of almost 19 months now (jesus christ 19 months…) is that everyone is selfish. Me and Jacob have been robbed of our future, I have no home, I have boxes of our things collected from a decade of living together, I have no job,  I have no routine, and I am utterly lost without Jacob. He influenced everything about me since I was in 7th grade.  I AM DROWNING IN FLAMES. And people just want to continue their lives and give their shit advice in the comfort of the nice home they share with their spouse and children. Well, guess what? That was our plan and why do you get it? Why do these people around me who have been together for barely 2 years (even 5 years is honestly laughable given how long Jacob and I have been together) why do they get it all? They aren’t soulmates like me and Jacob. There love isn’t unconditional. Jacob would try to hang out with someone (like I said he had many man crushes, everyone wanted to be his friend) and he would text me an hour in and say “I am making up an excuse and coming home! I love my coos and I want cuddle times! Pick out a movie cutie!” We literally couldn’t be apart. Now his physical touch and his warm body are missing from my arms and my bed… I am in my childhood bedroom we stayed in so many times while visiting my parents. I cry out for him in my sleep. I haven’t lived anywhere without Jacob since I was 18 years old…

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One of Jacob’s favorite Bukowski poems, we had it in a frame on the wall at almost every house we lived in.


Back on track to the rabbi books I have been attempting to save myself with. My mother-in-law gave me one of them, thank you because I know you are reading*! Love you! Anyway, one of the lines I keep seeing some form of or iteration of is something like this – “Nothing would ever be worth your suffering but neither would your suffering be worthless.” I just cannot swallow this. I am sick of all the “you get wiser and learn from your suffering”. Um, no thank you. I would rather be more stupid, please and have Jacob. Of course, to be human is to suffer, and I have always realized even as a young child that pain is a great teacher. However, the loss, PTSD, depression, endless torture, debilitating grief and the trauma I am enduring daily does not match up to anything I am reading or seeing. Except for art, and especially music – the thing me and Jacob shared together perfectly in our souls. But I am too far gone. In the deep end. I am colorblind in a world that once was filled with color. I am too far gone. One of the few songs that perfectly describes my pain (almost) is “If I could only Fly” by Blaze Foley. “If I could only fly, If I could only fly – I’d bid this place goodbye to come and be with you”. A song of grief and loss and you can listen to it here… I cry and cry. But it is the only thing that I hear that matches my pain.

So, let’s see.. a lot of changes coming up that I don’t feel like talking about because I have been frozen in time for 19 months and want to remain frozen. I am forever in 2017. So, I would rather not think or talk about them. But, basically, as I struggle to stay alive – I also must speak intimately to Jacob in my personal journal and voice recorder. And that comes before this blog. But my goal, as you all know, is to share Jacob with everyone which I plan to continue doing as much as I can until … well. I don’t know how to finish that sentence so how about we leave it as “just until…”

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Me and Jacob napping at his dad’s house summer 2012


Blog Post

Broken Heart Syndrome


Woodstock, Vermont “Town Crier” – the town was so small it still had a community board of local events. Jacob thought this was incredibly cool – we came on a day where this small community was having a parade – we went to the local library, bought local ice cream and walked around this little town. I remember Jacob saying “Baby, we have to check out more of Vermont.” Jacob wearing the Bob Dylan shirt my dad got him many years back.

Broken heart syndrome is a heart condition that’s brought on by highly traumatic situations, such as the sudden death of a loved one. People with broken heart syndrome may have sudden chest pain or think they’re having a heart attack. It is also known as “Takotsubo cardiomyopathy” in the medical world… blah blah blah. But the story is pretty interesting: The name “Takotsubo Syndrome” comes from the Japanese word Takotsubo which means “octopus trap,” because the left ventricle of your heart takes on a shape resembling a fishing pot. (It is real, people!) This cardiomyopathy is now a well-recognized in the medical community as an actual cause of acute heart failure, lethal ventricular arrhythmias, and ventricular rupture. Yeah, those words mean nothing to me either. Google them if you are interested, I guessMy biology major was very anti-pre med (the pre-med students had HUGE ego’s where Jacob and I went to undergrad), and especially now, after experiencing the coldness from the night Jacob was taken from me, and the trauma, I really have no desire to even hear medical terms- as I have mentioned in previous posts- when I see an ambulance I have to pull over and try to contain my vivid flashbacks, when I pass a hospital I have to pretend it doesn’t exist. But, I do not want to talk about this. I bring this broken heart syndrome up because there seems to be a common thread among a lot of widows. Because many people think those in debilitating grief look “perfectly fine” on the outside, they reject our grief or think “we are getting better and moving on” all the while our insides are filled with massive holes, crippling pain, and despair that goes unrecognized and dismissed because it is not seen physically. I will take physical pain over this emotional agony any day. And the word “emotional agony” doesn’t even come close to describing how I feel inside.


My Dad and Jacob at “The Friendly Toast” for breakfast shortly after we moved to Cambridge, MA – May 1, 2017. This was near MIT – it was freezing outside and Jacob had flip flops on so my dad gave him a pair of tennis shoes and socks to borrow (the shoes were much too small for Jacob – but he was desperate, his feet were so cold). We walked for almost a mile to find this place (GPS malfunction). Jacob LOVED it- the decor had old school signs from the 50s, pop culture trinkets from the 60s-90s, and little details only a highly observant writer like Jacob could recognize. He had Corned Beef Hash, like usual, and he always tried it at every breakfast place we went to since 2010 but especially in Cambridge – “Baby, I am the only person besides 90-year-olds that ever even order this.” *This story reminds me of ANOTHER time with my parents in Cambridge (a sketchy restaurant that had good reviews, though) where Jacob found like rat hair in his Corned Beef Hash* So gross. We got out of there so quickly. They gave Jacob a $25.00 gift certificate, which I still have. My mom wanted to get it framed…

Here is something else about the physical recognition that widows get (and it is again, very common – my dear widow friend Élise told me people have said this to her and continue to say this to her all the time) and, unfortunately, I have heard it as well. Many have, and I am getting this out right now in defense of widows everywhere. The grief diet we have and how people say the most stupid shit imaginable. Here is how the conversation goes down (or something of the like). “Wow! You look great! You’ve lost so much weight. Did you start running or something?” “No, my partner died.” “Well, whatever you’ve been doing, keep it up! You look amazing.” Are you fucking kidding me? I look good? First off, do you think I GIVE A SHIT about how I look when I have lost everything? My spouse, our apartment, our children, our entire future together- do you think this weight loss is healthy? Do you think this is wanted? HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE? Jesus. People think you want to hear this kind of garbage but no, they need to think again. It adds more salt to the wounds. My nutrients come from bread and butter. And that is starting to wane quickly into no appetite for anything – not even bread.  Yeah, yeah – it isn’t healthy – BUT I HAVE NO CHOICE. It isn’t a choice. My therapist explained it pretty well – she said “we as humans have an animalistic instinct to nourish ourselves with food, water, etc. in typical, normal healthy conditions – but you do not want to live, therefore your body is completely shutting down, lack of any appetite is part of the last phase, it is unnatural because what you are going through is the most unnatural thing in the world. Your depression is killing you, mentally and physically”. People just do not get it – when you are in horrible grief and deep depression you do not want to eat anything. You shut down. And you know what? I know in my heart not only does Jacob understand this but that he would react in a similar way if the situation was reversed. I wish for that every day- “why was he taken? why didn’t you take me? He was such a gift and light to the world – why didn’t you take me?” People tend to make comments of what made Jacob and I happy (I’m sorry, but I know that best) but anyway, the point is- he/we liked to do these activities…when we were both alive and together. Yes, we enjoyed cooking and taking walks in the forest – WHEN WE WERE BOTH ALIVE AND LIVING TOGETHER. Yes, we loved trying and enjoying new food and spending time with children and watching movies and taking showers/bubble baths together and new adventures and drinking hot chocolate and celebrating the holidays and feeling the cool breeze on our faces – WHEN WE WERE BOTH ALIVE AND LIVING TOGETHER. I mean, what do you not understand about this? It is so easy for people to just word vomit stupid shit and offer platitudes in their comfortable houses with their family and spouses right by their side. Or even friends by their side, for that matter. I will say it in every post – Jacob has been my one and only since as long as I can remember. He was my best friend. My only roommate – ever – since 18. My entire world. He was, was going to be, and is my all and everything. When you talk about having children together from such a young age – when you set a wedding date – when you build a future together from such a young age (middle school, cough, cough) and when it is all taken from you in the blink of an eye, yeah – your “you look great!” comments make me want to vomit. Do not mention my weight, that my skin looks good, my outfit is nice (I am literally picking from a pile and throwing on whatever smells clean when I have to leave the house for a doctor’s appointment) or my hair. Which, by the way, not only goes unwashed for weeks and weeks but now I just wash it under the sink – the whole getting into the shower, getting wet and changing clothes is too much of a chore. I’m tired of all this sugar coating nonsense – THIS IS WHAT GRIEF LOOKS LIKE. I am sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable – try living it.

Fall 2011 – at my parent’s hotel in downtown Tallahassee before an FSU game (Jacob did not like Football AT ALL and either did I, but we always went when my parents came up and bought us all tickets, 3-4 times every Fall). But this photo shows what I miss so much – these hugs from the back I would get every day and kisses from behind. Jacob would say “Coo, you are the perfect height and size for me because I can wrap my arms around you from behind!”


I just feel like only other widows understand this kind of grief… and even though no one can fully understand (even other widows) the depths – I mean deep deep depths of our love – they can relate on a level no one else can. I went from having 0 widows in my life to 3 that check in on me regularly… I will take that. They let me cry, tell my story, and can relate to the endless horror and misery. I hear their stories. And even though they are far away… I feel that maybe it is a reason to turn on my phone, and hear a voice that doesn’t judge, project, add stress, give me “wisdom”, cruelty or tell me what to do – but they know all the right things to say.


You know what box sitting in my childhood home (where I am currently living and all of our possessions are) makes me most sad? Well, one of the boxes that makes me most sad. Our kitchen boxes. All of our kitchen supplies have been with us since 2010 – the records and books have too, so those boxes make me beyond sad – but the kitchen boxes bring memories of how we would cook together, how Jacob would surprise me with meals so often (even vegan meals, I wasn’t vegan, but he would research because he was so curious like that) and our little plates and mugs we would find at thrift stores. One mug in particular I know I will break down when I eventually see it. All the knitted mason jar covers I would make for him. Our re-usable metal straws. The hanging fruit basket he bought us. The silly aprons he bought me. Our vintage goodwill soup bowls we loved. These are things we have had for so long…even the kitchen towels with botanical plants on them and Simpon’s characters. It just makes me want to crawl into a hole.

Jacob at one of our favorite beaches in the Panhandle on the Forgotten Coast… undeveloped coastline for miles and miles – again, this land was our home- Jacob said it himself “The only place I would ever live in Florida would be Tallahassee”, and I completely agreed – and the houses we loved to drive by and look at as we got closer to St. George Island (his favorite beach of all time) are now completely destroyed by the hurricane, and the forests we stopped and admired are gone…Jacob’s favorite spot to go look at Pitcher Plants and rare Florida sunflowers. All gone. It makes me sick – it would make Jacob so sad to see our home, our city, and our favorite wild lands destroyed. But this photo was taken at our secret spot and secret beach we went to in the winter… no one was ever around or near…except a local rural pottery artist Jacob and I also loved visiting. Of course, he had Jacob’s number and called him once a week to talk to him. January 2017.

Currently, well for a while now, I am reading Jacob’s favorite books and they bring me some comfort. Movies are off-limits right now because he introduced me to all of it – Mel Brooks, Woody Allen, Charlie Kaufman, Wes Anderson (in 7th grade mind you – so, 2004 for me, 2003 for him) – it just is way too much to watch any movie – and new movies his eyes cannot see and I know he would love (like The Meyerowitz Stories and the second season of Stranger Things, both on Netflix) make me sick… because he talked about watching them together. He read about them coming out. I cannot even log into our shared Netflix account (Yakescoo). It is one of the biggest triggers I have because it was a huge part of our lives and it completely influenced and shaped me and this shaping was done all by Jacob. The last movie we ever saw together in theatres was “Baby Driver” which he loved, as did I, and it was August 4, 2017 – exactly one month before he died. I remember our walk home that night was beautiful. We held hands the whole way home and with the colder weather, we could tell Fall was coming. He kept his ticket stub from that night in his wallet. Jacob was like that, he kept all the movie ticket stubs he went to with me in his wallet or in his “blue area” as we called it – a blue colored box with tons of papers and cards shoved inside. I remember on our walk home we passed a garden level basement, that of course, Jacob pointed out because he was so observant, that had lights flickering and a broken window and Jacob said “Kaitlin, look at this-this is the stuff of nightmares right here.” He looked around, could tell I was scared and was like “Yeah, we need to go. Fuck this”  I feel like that walk was yesterday.

Jacob with Llamas outside of Cairo, Georgia at an Art Festival – October 2016

Listening to our favorite records is also so hard – but necessary sometimes because it was what we did all the time, every day – as soon as we both got home, a record was put on and we would decide together. Just one of our many daily rituals. But certain things I can listen to and others I cannot. We couldn’t back out of the driveway without music decided upon. If I was driving, “Jacob you are the DJ” or if he was driving, “Coo you gotta be the DJ for us”. If I found out about a new artist (usually from the past) or he did – everything stopped. We listened together. Or if I would find out about a new modern artist that he would end up loving like M. Ward he would say “Coo, you can’t hide this stuff from me!” He loved M. Ward and one song, in particular, he would play for me so often, was  Eyes on the Prize. That song is incredibly hard to type let alone listen to – he not only played it for me but he would sing it into my ear as he kissed my neck. The lyrics for him were so important. “Wow, what a great line” he would say in the car. He was always completely engaged. If you started to talk in the middle of one of his favorite songs, or any song he put on, he would pause it – listen to you and then restart the song. I picked up that habit too! “It is a good one to have”, we would say. We were constantly excited about discovering new music. For instance, when I first learned about Jimmie Rodgers, Jacob was obsessed. He read about him, listened to all of his music, and for 2-3 months had a complete fixation. “Classic Yakes!” I would say. Same with The Pet Sounds album by The Beach Boys, Blaze Foley, Buddy Holly, Leon Redbone (this was his favorite Redbone song), and Doc Watson. Just like Jacob showed me Robert Johnson, Leadbelly, Daniel Johnston, The Pixies, Blind Blake, Bob Dylan***, Leonard Cohen, and Hank Williams (well we both came to Hank Williams at the same time –  a story for another time). The list goes on and on… I came back from Rochester, New York (where my mother is from) in 2011 with what turned out to be Jacob’s favorite and most prized vinyl of all time – and again, that is a longer story for another day – but it is one of the rarest 1920s delta blues compilations in the world, you cannot find any of these songs online. If he read a poem that brought him to tears or really moved him it was “Coo, come in here quick! You have to read this.” If I read a short story I knew he would like, I would give it to him immediately. Such as, Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory” which turned into one of his favorite short stories of all time, and a tradition that we always read it together on Christmas… since like 2013? He would read me Stephen King short stories especially the magical realism ones which he loved most, and we would listen to David Sedaris stories while cuddling together. If one of us wanted to write or cover a song together, we would both play guitar and sing – or I would play the banjo or he would play the banjo. Or one of us would play our cigar box dulcimer, “Wandering Bear” we named it.  Sometimes, listening to music is too painful. Other times, it reminds me of the memories I have to hold onto and I cry and cry for hours and it reminds me of the depths of our love. Our music and records, just like his poems and love letters are reminders of our soul connection to each other – forever.

On our way to pick blueberries in May 2014 – our usual May tradition in Tallahassee. This is Jacob with a Donkey, we couldn’t resist stopping off the side of the road. Plus we found some wild blackberries near here. He is holding our water bottle I left at the French Town Market in early 2017… we were both really sad when I lost it. We had it for so many years…

I am going to leave this post with a poem from the collection I self-published, which I realize probably very few have read but, what the hell? Maybe you want to read some suffering. I know I do. There is nothing relatable about self-help books or all that “happiness and rainbows” bullshit.

Summer 2015



I have young flesh

all marked up

with old pains.

and while the sideways clock

shuts down the wind,

we are left here

to meet in the morning-

as noah’s dove once whispered,

life ain’t worth living

without the one you love.


but there is something

in the doing

that is needed

for the why.


the song

I am singing

comes in

on a whistling trill,

and is older than

the exodus bell



when I see their skin

that looks like mine

I have to stoop down

so I don’t bump my head.

I have to hang tight

so I don’t drop my luggage.

I have to cool the flames

so I don’t distill the wash.

I have to fly downriver

so I don’t sink my core

I have to worship

the dry giant,

so I don’t scrape

my running feet.


but no matter how

I struggle and stride,

I always

have to

jump the line.

I always come back,

roaring under

the night sky.


I never find myself in these people,


it must be

my young flesh

all marked up

with old pains.


– Frances Bloom (Kaitlin Griffith)

Blog Post

Days and Days and Days in Bed…

“For the world’s most precious person! Written with great care, love, and affection” a beautiful letter from Jacob- summer of 2015. Anytime I am desperate for his words, his comfort, and his love I read his letters, text messages, love poems, and cards… so, every day.

It is not uncommon for widows to spend days in bed. But I must tell you, I have spent most of the last year (now, approaching 15 months- Jesus, how can that be?) in bed. In particular the last 5-6 months I can barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom and I haven’t been able to walk to the kitchen. I go to therapy … my psychiatrist once a month…and recently, this brain procedure… and those are about the only things I can do. I can’t even drive myself to these things. It is not out of a lack of “trying” or because “I can’t force myself” or because I can’t “just will myself out of it” it is because I am crippled by grief and in serious depression. The weight of grief has caused me to completely melt. I cannot move. It is like the force of a freight train is on my chest. The depression from grief (losing my best friend, childhood sweetheart, partner, soul mate, our unborn children, our future, and life together will ALWAYS be there… obviously). But this clinical depression has turned into the darkest cloud – the deepest hole – the dreaming of death…the hopelessness… the feeling of no reason to live.  The guilt. This is debilitating. Yes, believe it or not, I am really trying to stay alive. Desperately. This is why I go to therapy twice a week, am on medicine and trying this procedure. This is someone who is trying, as pathetic as it may seem this is all I can do. That and cry…and cry and cry… write and talk to Jacob, and sleep with his ashes. Sometimes I really feel my only reason to live is to keep our sweet cat Abe taken care of…

Jacob, early June of 2017, with his new Clark shoes from my mom (he loved them and got so excited when he got them in the mail), the Simpson’s socks I got him our last Christmas together- 2016- and his new Pixies shirt from the concert I took him to for an early birthday present, “Baby, that was the best concert I have ever been to in my entire life” he said. Our uber ride back from the concert was wild – our driver almost got us into three accidents. Jacob was laughing at my reaction. “Baby, calm down,” he said as he held my hand.  After the concert, he watched live performances of The Pixies on youtube for 2-3 weeks after the show. It was so adorable. When Jacob got into something, he went all the way. That was his brilliant intellect. This photo is in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, on the way we stopped off the side of the road, at a small burger shack where Jacob had what he called “one of the best burgers I’ve ever had” and we shared french fries. I loved this day. He said, “take all this beauty in my darling girl – look where we are.”


This is the same day as the previous photo – we hiked on a part of The Appalachian Trail to get to this waterfall – it was such an intense hike, but we both agreed it was worth it for the stunning view. We got in the water and took our shoes off. The water was so cold! The “funny” story of this hike is that we could have driven to the top of the starting point because there was a place for cars to park, but instead, we walked a completely unnecessary extra uphill mile because we were confused. When we got to the top we were like “Jesus Christ, are you serious? What a couple of dipshits we are.” We had a good laugh about it considering the actual hike was so uphill. Shit, that was a hard hike.


Jacob and I at one of our favorite parks to throw our very high-end Frisbee at (we bought it at a vintage candy and ice cream shop and invested in this really nice frisbee) and we would walk around and play with it and picnic at this park all the time – J. R. Alford Greenway – December 2016 (he set up a whole picnic one time for us here as a surprise, all he said to me before we left was “make sure to bring a book!”) Notice the horses in the background – Jacob was so excited to see them

I think of Jacob’s hands so often, how delicate they were, how long and beautiful they were as they stroked my body. The milky white color. I think of every part of him. I miss the deep emotional connection, how we were the only two to understand each other- the inside jokes, the cynicism, the silly nicknames and language we spoke and humor we shared. I think about how literally every person we encountered we felt the same way about – no one was absolved of being made fun of or joking at something they said. Never in a malicious way (well, only if they were an asshole) but always in a lighthearted way. We just didn’t need other people, it was just us and we loved it that way.  I remember when we were in college, we were invited by our mutual acquaintance who lived in our apartment complex to a “Christmas get together”. She told us it would be really intimate. Jacob and I both thought she was

Jacob and I in downtown Thomasville, Georgia – one of our favorite little towns only 30 minutes North of Tallahassee and a place we visited often, I remember Jacob loved how there was an actual main street “Baby, this is like old school Americana – I love this. Look at all these local businesses and small shops.”

a little weird – but she was so nice to us – brought us cookies and homemade jams all the time- we couldn’t say no. So we went. And man, was it awkward. And no A/C either. Jacob was sitting on what looked like a pop-up parade chair found at a thrift shop as we were both using napkins to keep our foreheads from sweating. We both were listening to the most vapid conversations. But, the worst part was that we didn’t know it was a “White Elephant” party – you know, where you exchange gifts. We didn’t bring anything – nothing. We thought it would be an event with some soda, some beer, some snacks and that was it. So Jacob and I received gifts, even though we didn’t bring any. We both got these CVS blankets that were Christmas colors, we literally saw them the day before at the CVS on Call Street near FSU.  I think we still have them too… Anyway, we felt bad that we got these gifts and didn’t bring anything.

Me and my baby boy, at the Pumpkin Patch in Tallahassee we went every year (except when we lived in Washington) – this was our last Halloween together. This is also shortly after we got Abe, our wonderful cat (hence, our wedding date).

Jacob and I later said, we didn’t feel that bad because we got the shittiest gifts ever. But, without bringing anything we kind of felt obligated to stay longer. Jacob made a joke about our friend’s (the one who invited us) boyfriend – he was from Norway and didn’t really understand the difference between college and university so he was wearing a “Tallahassee Community College” shirt. Jacob was like “Coo, did you see his shirt – what the hell was the deal with that? Why would anyone advertise that they go there? Jesus.” And Jacob went to TCC before he transferred to FSU, so it wasn’t an egoistic comment, it was just – really odd. And hilarious. “Go Eagles!” Jacob laughed later (The Eagles were the TCC mascot). The whole night was so bizarre. Jacob and I were incredibly eager to get the hell out. Finally, after three hours we got out of Dodge and walked back to our apartment. We joked about how weird the group of people was – one lone international student in the corner just staring at all

Jacob at Harvard Museum of Natural History and that same day we went to the Harvard Museum of Anthropology (I could bring one guest to every museum for free) he loved that – mid-June 2017- he would often say “what museum are we going to next, my cooie-balooie”? Another nickname…I will never hear again from his lips.

of us “I thought he was going to shoot up the place” we joked, a couple preppy girls that didn’t even say hello to us, a girl who was obviously a physics major and really into talking about her research, and a couple engineering guys talking about…I don’t even remember. Conduction? Jacob tried to make some jokes with these people but they weren’t exactly the type to get humor… I remember he even said, “Jesus, this is a tough crowd.” I would say that often in high school and he loved that expression. See? We used each other’s expressions and our vocabulary became one. Our reactions, our thoughts, everything became one. I remember Jacob said “Baby, I don’t think you realize how bizzare and amazing it is that we get the same songs stuck in our head ALL THE TIME.” It was really true. I would start singing a song and he would say, “What? I was just thinking of that song.” Or he would start singing a song and I would say – “Did you sing that before just now? It has been in my head all day.”

Me and Jacob outside at a restaurant, Proof, near FSU after finals week in 2013

He thought that was so incredible. He would bring it up all the time. Just another sign we were twin flames – true soulmates. Our energy was the same – about everything and everyone. We not only felt completely understood by one another but comfortable with each other in every capacity.


Our society thinks that “happiness” is the ultimate form of success. I think that is bullshit- so did Jacob. I remember an extended family member said one time (a couple years ago) something like, “You are so young, you should just be happy.” I rolled my eyes at that one… because the truth is, life is fucking hard and full of suffering no matter what age.

Jacob at one of our favorite places, The Litchgate on high road, with one of the oldest Live Oak Tree’s in America, it was a 5-minute walk right next from our apartment for 4.5 years and we loved going there ( a true hidden treasure). The huge oak is on the other side of Jacob but I love this photo… February 2014


And I realize that now more than ever before. There is no such thing as just a happy life. And you are setting yourself up for failure if you think that is the acme of existence. No one is getting out alive or without suffering. For me? Being with my childhood sweetheart, marriage, growing old together, a big family – these were the things that I thought were set in stone, of course they would happen – these were things that Jacob and I talked about ALL THE TIME. I remember Jacob looked at me in our Glenview House (the last place we lived in Tallahassee) and gently touched my hair and said, “I can’t wait to take care of you when you are pregnant. Pregnant coos will be out of control with her mood swings and cravings but I cannot wait to take care of you every step of the way. At 3 AM when you want fries and pickles. I love you so much Kaitlin.” When he used my name, I knew he was going to cry. He had “that look” which I have captured on video two days before he was taken from the world, “that look” of true love – that he loves me so much he cannot contain it. I know that look so well.  I don’t want to IMG_7638experience life without Jacob. He is the love of my life – and always will be. You don’t get a love like this often – it is 1/100000 lifetimes kind of love we had. I look around the street and I see couples, bickering and fighting. I see mom’s scrolling on Instagram as their toddlers try to get their attention. I wonder to myself “why them? why do they get everything I wanted with Jacob and that he wanted with me?” I am sure you are thinking to yourself the same questions. I wish I had answers. I would have never dreamed of this miserable, horrible reality- which is why I stay in bed. Trying to stay frozen in time.


I miss the emotional, the mental, and the physical connection on such a deep level it makes my insides hurt. The kisses, the hugs from behind, the cuddling – literally every night we cuddled. EVERY NIGHT. We discussed everything together – from books to art to cinema to music (oh music…) to writing screenplays together to writing music together to playing music together to Jacob loving me so much he would clean my ears for me with q-tips every night – he loved to do it. He always said “Baby, I love taking care of you. Let me do this.” I mean, to everyday interactions to recipes to EVERYTHING for so long. This is why I can barely get out of bed. This is why simple tasks like responding to an e-mail, or a text message is like hiking up a mountain. It isn’t laziness. It is grief. It is depression. It is not wanting to be alive. I want his touch, his love, the sweet kisses on my neck, the showers we shared, the way he made me feel – the way he constantly praised me and the way I praised him. I want to give him the love and support I always did, the encouragement I offered without a second thought because he was the love of my life and I would do anything for him, and I want to give him the unconditional love I showed him and he showed me every day. I want our life back. I want our house back. I want our dishes back. I want our library and bookshelves back. (not in boxes, that is). I want to kiss the sweet freckle on his left ear as the sun rises. I want to give him a loving hug in the morning from the back because he hated mornings. I am telling you he was the most perfect spouse. We were perfect together. This is why I lie in bed all day. Not out of a lack of will – but out of a lack of will to live. Jacob and I loved Hank Williams – we have many of his albums on vinyl – the real Hank Williams – not this bullshit Hank Williams Jr. garbage. We played a lot of music together, which I have recorded some of it, thankfully – but only some. Jacob had the most beautiful voice (and I feel so incredibly grateful he shared his voice with me because he rarely did that with anyone). He could sing “I’m so lonesome I could cry” (listen here please) It is a very hard song emotionally and vocally to sing – and he could sing it perfectly. We loved to sing it together but he had to take the lead because I sure as hell couldn’t hit those notes. Jacob said Hank Williams was quite possibly his favorite voice of all time – Hank Williams and John Lennon. Anyway – getting off focus here, as usual – there is a line in the song…

Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves begin to die?
Like me, he’s lost the will to live
I’m so lonesome I could cry

I have lost the will to live – and I know exactly what he meant when he wrote this song.

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End of April 2017 – Me and Jacob New York/Connecticut border – State Line Cafe
Jacob and Abe at the Glenview House – January 2017

Another reason not to feel bad about not getting out of bed – for me? Jacob. I trust that he loved me unconditionally and therefore, my lack of ability to function is something he would understand. Because he loved me and understood me more than anyone, he understands how devastated I am because we both lost our future. Jacob wanted everything I speak of – and we talked about it all the time. Heidi and Eli, our two little children. I feel that every tear and every ounce of pain I go through he somehow understands – I cannot explain it but I just feel that he understands why I cannot function because that is how much I love him, how much he loves me and that is how deep my pain is. He understands. When you are tired of insensitive comments that make you feel queasy, think about how much your person loves you. More than anything. They understand your pain and would never judge you for it – never in a million years.

I recently read an e-mail from Jacob from June 2013 – we were away from each other for a little over a month – and he was describing how he was so sad and in pain without me, he said in this e-mail that he didn’t even want to laugh, watch movies, or do anything without me. He didn’t want to get out of bed. He said he felt like he was in grief. After reading this the other day, I finally felt understood…5 years later, by my one and only – my twin flame – my spouse and love, Jacob.


Blog Post

You two are such a cute couple

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Jacob and I hiking at his second favorite place about 45 minutes west of Tallahassee- Nature Conservancy land, Apalachicola Bluffs and Ravines – November 2014. I loved his circle glasses – every time people see photos of Jacob who have not met him (like at the widow camp) they say “I bet he was an artist, right?”
One of my favorite blurry photos of all time – summer 2012 at Spanish Oaks, our home for 4.5 years – and Jacob’s Bart Simpson figurine.

I recently told our old landlord (from our favorite house (see the post here) in Tallahassee that Jacob had passed away, I had been missing a few random things and I wanted to know if she still had them. Unfortunately, she sold our little house. After she started to cry and talk about how much she loved Jacob, she also said something that I forgot people used to say to us, “You two were the cutest couple.” I hadn’t heard that in over a year, and I forgot that was something people told us often. I bursted into tears (as usual) because I knew that I would never hear that expression in the present tense ever again. It also made me unbearably sad because I felt like people will forget about our life – that we even had a life together – without being told – never to be seen in real time. No one knew of our intimate day-to-day life (except me and Jacob) so of course, I will never forget – but everyone else, it seems they will. How could they not?

I LOVE this photo. Once again, at our Spanish Oaks apartment and Jacob was studying for his final exam in his human sexuality class – Fall 2012. He looks so handsome. Look at those hands. So beautiful.

The way he did the dishes and aligned the mason jars perfectly stacked and always to the left of the plates – the way he would keep “fun cereals and snacks” on the counter instead of in the pantry because he didn’t want to forget about them in the morning. How much we loved to buy the tub of Nestlé Toll House cookie dough. But he always would burn them and say “coos, can you make them please?” How much he loved the holiday Pillsbury cookies and each new holiday there was a new shape – ghosts, pumpkins, snowmen, Christmas trees. He would call me and say, “should we get the ghosts or the pumpkins???!” He would burn those too – so I always made them. “Thanks baby coos!” He got very frustrated when he would burn them – I would say “You are far too intelligent to deal with these simple matters, I got you covered baby Jakes.” It was a huge tradition to get those Pillsbury holiday cookies – we realized though that when we were kids they would come in a log form and now they come in a tray form. We liked the log…  How excited he got when we would get whole milk. Sometimes he would come back from a gas station with some sketchy whole milk and I would say, “Jakey – this is uggos, please let’s go get you some real whole milk.” When we lived in Olympia, Washington they had the best whole milk, according to Jacob. He was the whole milk expert. If anything was in the fridge, he would forget. It was so cute how he kept things out on the counter – always in a particular way. Never haphazard. Now, that day-to-day living is just a memory. I want to go back. These realizations are not easy. I never thought I would lose the love of my life- so when people would say, “you two are such a cute couple”, I always said “aw, thank you”

Spanish Oaks Apartment – when we first moved in – Summer 2012 – nothing but pure and unconditional love.

but never thought twice about it, because I knew how perfect we were for each other and how lucky we were. Now, I know that no one will ever know “Kaitlin and Jacob” as a couple again, and I will never hear these words again. I am going to start using my real name in these blog posts*. For us, there was/is no Kaitlin without Jacob and no Jacob without Kaitlin. I am nothing without him. I am truly a body without a soul. I mean, Christ, our old landlord, and my old boss, Carla knew more of our life together than anyone else. It will all just fade… and time will do nothing but encourage the haziness of what we shared. I feel like we were a clear photograph

Okay. I loved to watch Jacob sleep. He liked to watch me sleep, too. He used to say “Baby coo, when I can’t get to sleep I look at you and whisper I love you into your ears, and hope it is getting in there.” So, I was working on homework late at night at our second apartment (my mom spent all weekend putting up these curtains and painting our walls). And I took this photo because I just loved how beautiful he looked sleeping. Fall 2011.

and now it is entering into an out of focus blur. This is why I write and write in journals, I voice memo memories into my phone, I write in word documents every day so that my memories of Jacob will never fade… but the day-to-day living without him will become farther and farther away. And that is always clear when I wake and he is not cuddling me. 

This time of year fucking sucks. Okay? September Jacob died last year. We were supposed to get married in October 2018 – Abe as the ring bearer (Jacob’s idea, of course), November- a holiday we both loved and spent exclusively together since 2014, because we were each other’s family – now, completely gone. We had a routine of playing Charlie Brown’s Christmas on vinyl and Bird and Dizz (Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie) – on loop- all thanksgiving long on our record player. Man did we love listening to those two albums on Thanksgiving. I can still see Jacob walking into the living room to change the side of the record. Like yesterday. We would watch Plains, Trains, and Automobiles. “Baby, John Hughes movies are perfect for Thanksgiving.” We cooked my mom’s casserole she made us in college. ***By the way – every time we came home from college (2010-2014), Jacob spent the night before at our house, and woke up with us – the first time he ever did I said “You will wake up to the smell of my mom’s casserole and the sound of the Macy’s Day Parade on television.” As we slept together in my childhood room every year in college before the Fall holidays, we started to bring our own traditions such as our Thanksgiving vinyl – especially Charlie Brown’s Christmas with us. Jacob would always trim the tree with us shortly after. Me, my mom, and my dad haven’t put a tree up since Jacob died – no holiday decorations – and it will be the same this year. Jacob was part of this ritual. I remember the first time he trimmed the tree with us, my dad introduced him to eggnog and sprite. “Mr. Griffith I always hated eggnog but with the sprite, wow, it is so good- I mean, how good is that?” So, I know these traditions are jumbled and all over the place (welcome to my brain) but these are some of the early things me, Jacob, my mom, and dad did for those four years in college. Last Thanksgiving (2017), Jacob and I had plans to take the train from Boston to NYC and meet my parents for the Macy’s Day Parade. Tickets already booked – Airbnb already booked – and Jacob was so excited to take a train. “Baby, I love trains – I wish they were more common here in the United States, I am so excited (emphasis on the SOOO as he came to hug me) to take a train for Thanksgiving.”

One of our first little trees (see stockings to the left) at Spanish Oaks – December 2012.

So here we are, as stupid fucking morons feel compelled to holler “Happy Thanksgiving” to everyone on the street, it makes me break down, cry, and then get angry that the world stole our life away. I woke up this past Thanksgiving morning sleeping with Jacob’s ashes and talked to him about what we would be doing. If I would be pregnant yet… what music we would be playing and how we would be cuddling and easing into our morning. How he would have probably surprised me with coffee. Or that I would have made him an Irish latte (half Early grey with honey and half frothed whole milk- you can froth milk like at a coffee shop if you heat it up over the stove and then pump it in a french press.) He loved this! “Baby, can you make me one of those… um, um, Irish lattes?” In a cute little voice.

Just – please – please- please – stop saying “Happy Thanksgiving” “Happy Holidays” and the worst of all for me – “Happy New Year”, because it is another year that Jacob will not see. I am truly terrified for next year because I will turn the age (27) Jacob was when he died – and I do not want to live past his life on this earth. This time of year is just adding salt on the endless goddamn wounds. And you do not need to tell everyone “Happy” anything. Just shut the fuck up and keep your happy cheer to yourself.

December 2013 – the last Christmas spent at my parent’s house.
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A few weeks before Christmas 2014 at my parent’s house. These photos are so fucking hard but so beautiful. WE LOVED EACH OTHER SO DEEPLY.



Any widowed person will tell you that we have heard, time and time again (except for recently as I just isolate myself in bed all day and shut off my phone as to not hear them), the endless parade of well-intentioned, thoughtless comments that come our way within MINUTES of losing our soulmates – Everything happens for a reason/ Time heals all wounds/ God never gives you more than you can handle/ It was God’s plan/ We all choose our own death (some stupid pseudo-Buddhist shit)/God needed another angel/ I know exactly how you feel (UGH UGH UGH UGH)/ You need to get over this. That of course, as you have read in previous weeks is not the full list of “fuck you’s” in the chest. The truth of the matter is, nobody could ever know what we are going through (thank God) or what it IS until they themselves have gone through it. Yes, people want to help – but they don’t stop to think about how insensitive these clichés can feel when heard by someone who is in tremendous and VERY REAL LIFE OR DEATH KIND OF PAIN.

Kelley Lynn Shepherd said the king of all insensitive comments is: “You Need to Move on.” And I have to agree with her on this. Completely. 

… I am going to summarize some of the things she said:

Let me say this as simply as possible:


It is a lie
It is a fairy-tale concept, invented by those who don’t know what to say.

It is invented out of ignorance and fear.

They want you to move on so that they can feel more comfortable with your presence. (yes I know – I am awful company – completely aware). 

It is as if they are saying to us, “If we can all just pretend that this scary death thing never actually happened, then it would simply go away.”

Except, guess what? It never goes away. Not for me. Not for us. Not for the person living inside of it. It becomes you, and you become it, and you become wrapped in each other. Death and life become one and everything is different forever. The death of a spouse or partner is different than other losses, in the sense that it literally changes every single thing in your world going forward. When your spouse dies, the way you eat changes. The way you watch TV or movies changes (for me, I am unable to watch movies at all because I never watched ANY movie in the past 7 years without Jacob. At night or out in the theatre. So the fact that his eyes cannot see what I know he would love makes me want to vomit.) People disappear from your life entirely. Your job changes (graduate school for me- a career? seriously? the whole reason I even wanted to be a teacher is so I could financially support Jacob and I both so he didn’t have to work a shitty job and he could focus solely on his writing – collect a body of work, which he never got to do – like Stephen King’s wife did for him). It was a family decision between Jacob and myself. Your self-esteem changes big time. Your self-worth. YOUR DAILY FUCKING RITUALS. Your mentality. My mental state altogether… The way you breathe. The way you walk (or the lack of walking). The mornings – the constant reminder Jacob is not there when I wake up. Your physical body (I can only eat toast… literally.) Your hobbies and interests change (none for me anymore). It all seems so futile and empty. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. CHANGES. For me, our apartment/house is gone – for the first time since 2010 I am back living in my hometown, with my parents, in my childhood bedroom and not with Jacob. Not in our little safe spaces we created together. Not with our mini Christmas tree and stockings for each other and then finally in 2016 a stocking for our cat Abraham with a fish on it. Jacob loaded it with tons of treats “cheese middlez” and “tuna temptations” and little mice toys. Jacob worked as an assistant manager of a toy store for a while in Tallahassee late 2016 – March/April 2017 (funny story about when my parents came to visit him there one day I will get to it) and anyway, right next door was a locally owned natural pet store that always carried new products from Japan for cats – like full fillets of salmon and cutting-edge new treats Jacob would come home with. I remember he got Abe two huge fillets once and I gave Abe the whole thing and Jacob said, “Baby, we were supposed to give them to him together!” I said, “Okay, I’m sorry but he was jumping up and down wanting the rest of it – you give him the other one!” After Abe got both he was meowing and meowing jumping on the kitchen table, following us from room to room – it was quite adorable. Jacob was like “Jesus, buddy – there is none left! I will get you more tomorrow!” He would pick him up, “Oh my little fish breath wonder.”

Anyway… I was handed a new life I never asked for and DO NOT WANT. Jacob and I wanted marriage-so often we just were like, “let’s just go to the courthouse and get married and have a small reception later on… ” That was me and Jacob’s style for sure. All of this future robbed from us, especially that I will never bear his children and grow into parenthood with him – I mean- this is the hardest, most gut-wrenching, horrific, and life-altering reality to live with.

To top it all off, people with their partners beside them and social support (once again, I only had Jacob… so no real friends for me.) People like to think they suddenly know what is best for you. They treat you like a child. They want you to treat it as if it were a divorce instead of a death. EXCUSE ME? I did not fall out of love! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE WAS TAKEN FROM ME. They want you to put that person in the past – like some “ex” – um no fucking way, I still say “we” every time I talk about Jacob – we did something or we liked something or we watched something, or we love this etc. etc. These type of comments from people are beyond hurtful. And so what ends up happening? I feel / we feel more alone and isolate further and further. Just like I have done. I am doing. For me, it is a very scary place to be because… I do not want to live – I do not see a purpose without the love of my life – a whole life without Jacob? My one true love? The best father there could ever be? The most amazing human being the world has ever known. The love, compassion, creativity, curiosity, intellect, beauty, on and on the list can go…The man I dreamed of having children with since I was like… 13. And you want me to keep going? Nope. Count me out. So these comments people “offer up to you” feel like more blood dripping when the dagger is already deep in the chest. Yeah, I am angry. I am sad. I am in a horror film. I have run out of words to describe the miserable pain. And the only thing there is to help me? Bring Jacob back. But that is impossible.

The drill drills on. Grief gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn’t seem worth starting anything. I can’t get up. I sleep, I lay in bed, and I am always restless in my sleep. I used to smoke too many cigarettes to stop the trauma and visions boiling in my brain but now I can’t even muster the strength to walk outside. Up until this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness.

Christmas 2011 – I realize I am in the middle of a sentence here but Jacob is giving me a sweet kiss and I always loved this photo. We were just babies here.
Blog Post

Desperate man blues

There ain’t no colors in the sky
And I don’t feel much like singing
Can’t see what for
And there ain’t no comfort in this life
All that I can see that’s ahead of me seems like
Such a chore
Maybe something will happen to make it all better
Maybe something will come along and make me happy
There ain’t no fun in living anymore
And I don’t feel much like living
Can’t see what for
There ain’t no life left in me
I feel a bit funny
Like a ghost
With nowhere to go
My hope has gone and left me
A desperate man
There’s no spunk left in me
I feel so hollow in me
So empty, so empty
So empty, so empty
A big chunk of what I was has gone
And left me a desperate man
Now I’m a desperate man
I’m lonely, scared
Sad, sorry man
And I just can’t see no colors in the sky
There’s color there I’m sure, but it ain’t mine
And it’s made me blind
A desperate man
I’m a desperate man
– Daniel Johnston (listen to the song here) from one of Jacob’s favorite albums of all time, Hi, How Are You. Still on cassette and vinyl in the boxes of our belongings… I remember the day I gave him that album on vinyl and cassette. I said, “should I put it in a separate spot from the rest of our records?” He laughed, “Baby coo – everything around here is OURS – there will never be a day where my stuff and your stuff are separate.” That is when I knew he wanted to be with me forever…I was 19. I knew it for so long myself, but Jacob laughing at the idea of separating our books, vinyl, mugs, cassettes, or anything else – made me truly realize he wanted to be with me forever. I can’t even talk about the memory… just much too depressed this week to use my own words. This song describes the last 14 months almost perfectly, except the two sentences of idealism. I used to listen to this song with Jacob and we would talk about it at length (the sadness, the poetry of it, the desperation in the art)… but now I am living it.
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Without you, Jacob – I am a body without a soul. Can we go back to this place? This time? This memory… December 2014