Tag: nobaddays

When Cody and I went through our first couple rounds of 21-questions, he asked me what I was most afraid of. I told him, “Failure.” A few years later, he wondered if my response had changed, and it had. I told him, “Losing you is my biggest fear.” And it was true. Any song, movie, or story that even alluded to a woman losing her best friend/soul mate/husband would make me fold into myself and cry as if he were already lost.

In fact, the fear was so strong that, a few weeks before we got married, I knew I had to get a hold of myself because the fear was not allowing me to fall for Cody completely. There was always a ‘what if’ – What if he dies before I do? What if I’m left all alone? What if I can’t manage this crazy life without my person by my side? If I was afraid of losing all of me with Cody, then I simply couldn’t give him all of me.

And that just wasn’t an option.

But now. This week. The last 10 days.

I’m not afraid anymore.

And it’s all because of Brad, Katie, and “No Bad Days.”

Background
I met Katie, then a freshman student at DePaul University, during a “Freshmen Connections” retreat that I helped lead as a senior student. She was bright, bubbly, open to the world, and told us enthusiastically about Brad, her boyfriend back home in Ohio. I myself had just wrapped up 2.5 years as a long-distance couple with Cody, so I was beyond thrilled that I had another soul in my life – a freshman girl, nonetheless – who was also intentionally choosing to remain loyal to her mate and would experience the similar ups and downs of the journey that I had. I remember encouraging her in my excitement, telling her that long distance is actually quite the blessing since you could be independent, but still fall-back on your partner when you needed him most. Four years later, Katie is graduated and back home in Ohio, but she’s not planning a wedding. In fact, she helped plan a beautiful funeral and told her best friend “goodbye.” When I received news that the funeral would be in Ohio on Wednesday morning, I couldn’t imagine not going. Turns out that going on that drive has completely altered my life.

Katie has generously and graciously shared her love story with me, so as I write my own reflections, it seems only right that Katie’s own words shine through, too (her story is in the block quotes).

It is Katie’s  story, after all. I’m just reflecting on what her story is teaching me.

The Summer Katie and Brad Met – 2013

July 14, 2013, upon arriving back to my house, Brad said he knew I loved being treated like a princess and asked if I would like to be his.  I think I squealed and jumped over to hug him before saying “Yes!”  

The rest of the summer was wonderful, continuing to grow close to one another and learn about each other.  I always had in the back of my mind that I would be leaving to move to Chicago in September, but I never had a doubt that we would still work.  After meeting Brad, the possibility to not be with him never crossed my mind.  I remember walking him to his car one night and talking outside for awhile.  He said, “Sometimes you just know.  And I just know.”  We had fun that summer, we talked futuristically, we talked very honestly and frankly.  There was a trust that instantly brewed (which I took advantage of as I explained a couple of weeks into our relationship that I was saving myself for marriage).  I knew the expectations and normalcies of relationships at that time and felt comfortable enough to tell him about myself.  Unlike ones before him, he understood.  We carried that promise out throughout our four years but were absolutely thrilled to be married and share in that intimacy together. 

I moved to Chicago and started school in September 2013.  It was hard being away but we showed our maturity from the very beginning and made it work well.  Brad visited often, spending most of our first trips checking out the most touristy spots that the city had to offer.  We learned so much about the city together as we explored during his visits, and Brad quickly learned of my challenged sense of direction.  I will never forget his second visit when we were lying in bed at the hotel and he told me that he was trying to come up with the words to tell me how he felt about me.  Then, he said, he figured it out— “I love you, Katie.”  Of course, I couldn’t just say it back.  I liked to keep him on his toes.  I hid under the blankets behind tears, saying I wanted to tell him on my own, that returning the statement right there was too easy and cheap.  (I think I drove him crazy sometimes.)  I did tell him that same weekend that I loved him.  It’s funny that I waited because I knew I loved him from so early on.  

Being long distance worked so well for us.  This dynamic gave me the opportunity to focus on school and my activities while having the freedom to enjoy Brad when the time was right.  It made me appreciate him so much more.  I remember working extremely hard to get all my work done before he came to visit or before I went home so that I could fully enjoy him and his company.  It’s amazing how much you value even a simple hug from someone you love when you haven’t seen them in days or weeks.  Perhaps this is why ‘my perfect fit’ and I spent a lot of time cuddled up on a couch watching a movie or just talking when we would see each other.  Brad was so supportive from afar.  When I would be up late studying or working he would try to be right there with me encouraging me with text messages or phone calls.  He was so good at seeing and reminding me of the end goal so that I could keep pushing forward, no matter how challenging the coursework or the schedule became.  

I said all along that I loved being long distance.  I am very independent and the balance that we found was perfect.  Of course, now, sometimes I wish that I could’ve spent every day of those four years with him instead of being away.  

There are so many different days and dates that I remember very vividly, (which I attribute to not having as many of them, being a long-distance couple).  I remember concerts, sporting events, adventures in Chicago, family gatherings, building Beary Larkin, traveling to New York, our one-, two-, and three-year celebrations, dancing at the wedding, and so many more.  They are easy to remember as they are some of the happiest moments of my life.  Oddly enough, it’s also easy to remember one of the most difficult moments of my life—getting off the bus to Cincinnati on July 1, 2016 to learn that Brad had been diagnosed with leukemia.  I will always remember arriving to Brad’s room at Good Samaritan Hospital and walking straight up to him to give and receive the biggest hug, coupled with Brad’s reassuring whispers of “I’m going to be okay.  We’re going to be okay,” and I trusted him.  I knew he was right.  But now we had a third player in our relationship—cancer.

We talked a lot that night about what was to come for us.  We both knew that Brad could beat cancer and we trusted his doctors and nurses to take care of him.  That night, I remembered a saying that I had seen all over Cabo on vacation in the previous week: No Bad Days.  It stuck with me then and seemed totally appropriate for what Brad was about to be going through. No Bad Days quickly became Brad’s motto and carried him through what could have been considered by onlookers to be bad days.  That along with Fuego the dragon from Mexico were enough to keep Brad encouraged and strong through treatment.  Brad didn’t need time to process what was going on, he just wanted to get started immediately.  

Brad began chemotherapy treatment the next day, and in his typical fashion, proceeded with grace, strength and positivity.  We went on like this for 6 months—spending one week in the hospital to receive chemotherapy and the rest of the weeks trying to recover, getting blood work, receiving blood transfusions, etc.  Because Brad was so graceful and wonderful, we still made sure to have fun and enjoy each other during this process.  We still went on dates, we still laughed, we still kissed, and we were still crazy in love.  In fact, I believe that I fell more in love with Brad during this process.  

….We grew so much closer and so much more dependent on one another during this time, and it was amazing to see what we could accomplish together.  We were strong for each other, we covered each other’s weaknesses, and we made an amazing team.  Of course, we wish cancer had not brought this out in us, but something had to.  Before cancer, we felt invincible.  During this journey we were knocked down, but we only grew stronger and it was amazing to witness.

Six months into this chemotherapy regimen, things were looking up.  I had just completed my degree and would be back home in Cincinnati.  Brad’s scans kept coming back normal and his doctor was preparing to release him early from treatment. By God’s grace, his doctor felt the call to perform a PET scan on Brad.  We were disheartened but not broken completely to see the scan light up red at his shoulder joint, praying that the scan showed inflammation from a prior injury.  Unfortunately, after a biopsy, we learned that cancer had found its way to the head of Brad’s shoulder.  For the first time, I saw Brad break.  His positive spirit was gone, his finish line slipped out from under him, and now more uncertainty with cancer in another part of his body.  I had to be strong for him instead of the other way around.  Everything changed; Brad who once wanted to know nothing about his diagnosis and treatment suddenly needed to know everything.  His care was moved to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital in January of 2017.

Cancer-Free

Early on at Children’s, his treatment was relatively easy.  It was a pain to have a 24-hour infusion that required constant access to a pump in a backpack, but it didn’t make him sick, his hair started to grow back, and some normalcy started to return to our life.  Unfortunately, this month of inconvenience simply contained his cancer, but did not eradicate it.  Our next step was going to be intense chemotherapy partnered with radiation.  This was a long and tough month—radiation every day for four weeks, a week-long stay at the hospital to receive chemotherapy followed by a weekly visit in the following weeks for chemotherapy infusions and what seemed like trips to the clinic every day for some test or intervention.  He spent this month sick, tired and sore, but then we reaped the rewards.  On March 27, 2017, we rejoiced as Brad’s PET scan showed a body rid of cancer.  Brad said until the very end that being able to see his clear scan was one of the greatest moments of his life.  He had defeated cancer.  He practically leaped down the steps at my house after a phone call with his doctor, announcing “I’m clear!” with one of his biggest smiles I had ever seen.  

The coming weeks were mixed with celebrations and tests/meetings for the next step: bone marrow transplant.  A donor from another country had agreed to donate his stem cells so that Brad could have a new immune system that would hopefully not allow for cancer to develop.  We spent long days at the hospital for his tests and a long day reviewing the consents—how daunting it sounded; how confident Brad was.  

We enjoyed the week of freedom—we saw two Cincinnati Reds games, we danced the night away at my cousin’s wedding, we ate Brad’s favorite dessert, the chocolate stampede, and we enjoyed one another’s company on a deeper level.

“Thank you. I love you.”

On April 10, 2017, we found ourselves ready to start this journey in the operating room to place Brad’s central line for cell transfusion.  The pain and suffering began right away, especially as he jumped into full body radiation the next day.  The first week in the hospital brought more radiation, high-dose chemotherapy, and horrific medications.  

On April 20, 2017, Brad received his stem cells, followed by a long night of fevers and an upset stomach.  It was difficult from the very beginning, but Brad remained positive.  He thanked every care provider who came to him, no matter what they were doing or how he was feeling.  I helped him through a lot of the symptoms associated with his transplant and after one particular helping, I remember him saying, “Thank you.  I love you.  I’m gonna be with you forever.” His mental status began to decline rather quickly, so we were rejoicing at even the smallest “Bradisms” that showed us he was still in there, like the kissy face he gave me sitting on the edge of the bed, or the requests to watch a movie cuddled up together.  It was so difficult to see him so sick and in such pain.  However, I was so happy to be able to be with him every day in the hospital.  Soon he was in so much pain that he could not talk and we were left to hand signals and yes/no questions to try to help him.  Then he became so tired that he could not stay awake through a conversation and I would hold him up as he sat at the edge of his bed.  He made us laugh with occasional remarks, but it was difficult to be with him without being able to have a conversation with him.  At times, he would get so anxious and it was so hard to not know how to help him.  During one of his most anxious times, I had left to go to orientation for school.  His social worker told me in those three days, the only way she could get him to calm down was to talk about me.  We had developed a great system with one another and while it didn’t always seem to work, we generally comforted one another.

It was my last day of orientation, May 4, 2017, that Brad was transferred to the Intensive Care Unit for the first time.  His kidneys and liver were failing.  While it was upsetting to see him relying on so many machines to keep him alive, including a ventilator, it was so comforting to see him resting so peacefully.  We still believed in Brad, though.  We knew he would regain his strength and come back from this.  It was a phone call that next day that Brad might not survive the weekend that introduced the possibility of a life without Brad, and I hated it.  It was something I had never imagined and it broke my heart.  It was then that I decided I would stay home from school and defer until the start of the next year.  I knew Brad would be upset because he would never want to hold me back, but I felt that I had no choice but to be here and take care of him.  Brad could not speak during his first days in the ICU because of his breathing tube, but he could and would respond to my voice.  I lived to see him raise his eyebrows, blink and nod his head.  

How would I go on without Brad, who had been my person for four years?  I refused to believe it, but also found myself asking many questions about how I would know if it was his time and what it would be like if he did pass away.

In typical Brad fashion, he made an outstanding recovery—one of the most impressive that his ICU doctor had seen.  I will always remember when they removed his breathing tube, how good it was to hear him say “Oh!” along with a sigh of relief.  Brad, who had just previously laid in bed relatively motionless, was starting to speak and act more like himself.  We tossed a ball, he could tell us how he was feeling, and one wonderful morning, he called me over and kissed my hand.  I cherished every time he said “I love you” and all of his sweet quirks more than I ever had before.  

We soon made our way back to the bone marrow unit and it was then that I realized how much I missed Brad.  Yes, I saw him every day and every night in some of the most vulnerable positions that one could imagine, but it was never the Brad that I knew and loved.  How long had it been since we had had an actual conversation? I wondered.  How long had it been since we had hugged?  All I wanted was to hug him—so simple.  In what was once a perfectly normal relationship between two healthy people, it was extremely humbling to be reduced to getting excited when Brad said one word that he used to say—that is, if you could understand what he was saying—or raised his eyebrows or squeezed my hands in response to something I said or asked him.  It is understandable why he became frustrated at times, but it was so difficult to see.  Brad, who once hated to inconvenience anyone, was now fully dependent on the people around him.  

Beefy-Five Layer

I spent the most time with him during the day and stayed with him every night.  I saw all of his progress and all of his setbacks.  The progress was so exciting, but the setbacks were crushing, truly heartbreaking.  While Brad’s liver seemed to be healing, it didn’t seem that his kidneys would.  As if that weren’t enough, he was being hit with one infection after another.  His weak body just kept being kicked while he was down.  His Bradisms would still shine through and keep me going, though.  He requested odd foods, piggy back rides, help with stretching for Game 4 of the NBA finals, and more.  One particular night, I thought he told me he wanted to be with me forever, but in fact, he wanted a beefy five layer.  He showed his strength here, as he requested frequently to get up and go somewhere or just to get out of bed.  While he couldn’t, it was so important to see his desire and drive to do so.  I did everything I could for him, even turning his bed into a makeshift batting cage and waking up in the middle of the night to watch Captain America together.  It was an honor to help his nurses clean him up or rub lotion on him, something I know he always liked.  Sometimes it was finding anything I could do to help make him happier.  Seeing him smile or laugh brought a newfound joy to my life, even though it was something that had been so easy for us in the past.  

“Hi sweetheart!”

….One night, he called out for me and woke me up.  I prepared myself, as his overnight requests were usually confusing and tough to understand.  When I made my way over sleepily with a “Hi Brad,” he smiled and responded with an enthusiastic “Hi sweetheart!”  I asked what he needed, and he held my hand and told me that he was just checking on me.  We chatted for a couple of minutes before he fell back asleep.  I am so happy I woke up to talk to him as this became our last conversation that we had.  It is something that I will hold onto forever.

While we were back to the place where Brad could not speak because of his breathing tube, he was doing an amazing job responding to me.  I will always remember when I got him to raise his eyebrows and wink for me.  I will also always remember when his doctor was trying to get him to respond but wasn’t having luck.  From afar, I spoke, involving his name, and she said he responded, asking me to speak again.  There were others in the room, but it was my voice that stirred him up.  I came to the bedside with his doctor and asked her question, immediately getting a response.  She said she would always remember that.

Not Just a Girlfriend

My role as a girlfriend had taken on many names during Brad’s illness—I was his agent, his dentist, his personal nurse, his translator, and now I had to take on the most daunting one of all.  I had to help Brad die.  How do you help someone die who you do not want to die?  I had loved Brad as well as I knew how, but how could I move forward with this “act of love” if it meant in the end that we would not be together?  So I did it as best as I could figure.  Brad’s nurses and doctors moved Brad to one side of his bed so that I could fit in there next to him and cuddle him, just as we had liked to do at our homes together.  I figured the best way to help keep him comfortable was to take him to the place where he always told me he was the most comfortable.  For two entire days, that was where I stayed.  The child life specialist came and gave me a small stone with an engraved heart to hold between our hands and gather all of our memories—and you had better believe that I did.  And you had better believe that stone is with me always—when I graduated from DePaul University last weekend, at Brad’s visitation and funeral, and now as I write this memoir.  It was amazing what memories came to my mind as we laid in bed together those two days, ones I had not thought of in years.  

It is difficult to decide what to say to someone you love as you know they are dying.  I reminded him of many memories.  I told him to come visit me, and that I couldn’t wait to see him again in heaven.  I asked him to help me get to heaven when it was my time, and to be my guardian angel while I’m still here.  I told him there are no bad days in heaven, that it is so much better there.  I told him not to be scared.  And I commended him for his strength and amazing fight, but told him it was okay to stop whenever he was ready.  I never stopped holding his hand and feeling his heartbeat as I knew that I wouldn’t feel it for much longer.  Sometimes he would open his eyes and show a response, but not always.  And that was okay.  He was surrounded by so many people who loved him in those finals days, and I know that meant the world to him.  Some Cincinnati Reds players even came to pay him a visit.  We could only imagine what he would’ve been saying to them if he could’ve spoken.  

On the night of June 7, 2017, we knew Brad’s time was coming.  His heart was spending more and more time in abnormal rhythms and his blood pressure was dropping quickly and steadily.  Those were the moments that I had to explain truthfully how much I loved him.  He opened his eyes briefly a few times.  The last time he opened them, I knew it would be the last time I saw his eyes.  He looked right at me and they looked so beautiful.  I will never forget them.  I couldn’t help but to smile at him and tell him how much I loved him.  And then in the next moment he became an angel.  June 7, 2017 at 11:20 PM, forty minutes before his twenty-sixth birthday, was when Brad went to God.

“I’m Going to Ohio.”
Our Catholic Campus Ministry community had bound together to pray for Katie and Brad the few days before we heard the heartbreaking news that Brad had passed, so I was already on high-alert. The moment I decided to drive to Ohio was the moment I saw that the funeral mass was going to be celebrated there. I had a few days to plan the logistics.

That weekend, I traveled to Chicago to walk at my graduation from DePaul University, something that I know Brad was very proud of me for.  I took my Brad stone everywhere with me—to the baccalaureate mass, around the city, to the ceremony.  He even was there on the bridge outside the Lincoln Park Zoo where we spent a lot of time together when I saw two wedding parties and a proposal.  He is probably the one who held me back from pushing their asses over the edge of the bridge.  Thank God for calming Brad.

Since being home from Chicago, we have celebrated Brad’s life through a visitation and funeral service, both which were overwhelmingly beautiful.

I was incredibly nervous for the visitation.  This would be my first time seeing him in almost a week.  It took me right back to the nerves that I had before our first date, which were excessive.  But just like June 11, 2013, the first day that we met, I instantly felt calm and at peace when I saw him.  He looked beautiful in his Reds jersey and his dark jeans with the torn-up belt.  I again found myself reaching for his heartbeat, which I knew I wouldn’t feel.  I was the last one to lay my eyes on him as I gave him some of his favorite belongings and helped close his casket.  He still looked beautiful with it closed.  It was overwhelming and amazing how many people came to pay their respects to Brad, and from how far they traveled to do so.  We knew he was there with us, wiping our tears and laughing at the funny stories.  

When I told Cody I would be going to the funeral, there was no “What? Why?” or “Isn’t that a little far to be going by yourself?” There was only understanding. I think his words were, “Yeah, that sounds like an Ania thing to do.” I don’t think it fully sunk in that I was really planning on going until Tuesday night, 15 minutes after I mentioned it would be about a 5.5 hour drive. “Oh! You’re really going!” he said. He made me promise I would pack an overnight bag in case I was too tired/emotionally drained to make it home the same day and stay in a hotel. We were trying to come up with reasons the night before I left why this was so important to me. The following list comes to you courtesy of hindsight.

Why I Went to Ohio
1. To show Katie I am with her. If this is my biggest fear, I can only imagine it’s shared similarly by many, many, many other people. Because I felt so connected to Katie after our retreats together, I knew that her love grew and her relationship with Brad probably developed very similarly to what I experienced with Cody, only more-so now that she was feeling Brad’s love in a completely different way than before.

2. Because it’s what I’d want my own friends to do.  I’m a strong believer in treating others how I’d like to be treated. Living life this way can string along more disappointments than rewards, but I can’t imagine living any other way. I like to think that I’m building a tribe of people who will gather around me in my darkest hours, regardless of who I’m saying “good bye” to.

3. To face my fear. I literally drove towards the thing that used to make my blood turn to ice and start the unstoppable water works. Something told me that by seeing Katie and by being in the space that I was most dreading, I’d be a little closer to overcoming the paralysis of impending loss.

The drive itself was easy. The sun shone all the way until I was just outside the small town I’d be parking in. It poured heavily, so I slowed down enough to be safe, making it a few minutes into Katie’s eulogy for Brad. I was grateful for the tissues I remembered to pack with me. I needn’t have worried though, since others around were freely sharing their handkerchiefs.

The very next day, we celebrated his life at his funeral service.  He brought us some rain to be funny before the ceremony began but cleared the skies when we moved to the gravesite.  Sometimes I think he liked to see people get worked up over something so simple.  

The funeral service was beautiful. My sighs and tears were met with those of perfect strangers and friends from DePaul that I hadn’t seen in a couple years. We christened that church floor and really did make it holy ground.

The part that threatened to change my relatively quiet crying into the stuff of tubas, though, was during the Sign of Peace when the mood in church suddenly shifted and I knew without seeing that Katie had gone to Brad for a sign of peace. How conflicting is it to know your best friend can’t hold your hand anymore, but feel so equally grateful that he is no longer in pain? When I saw Katie go back to her pew, gracefully seated between her father and her soulmate, I couldn’t stop the rush of unfairness, anger, and pure sorrow that I felt. This girl should be in the aisle to marry this man, not bury him.

I had my fantasies about what our wedding would have been like.  I so looked forward to walking down the aisle to Brad, hoping I could bring forth a couple of tears from him.  I never imagined that our chance to move down the aisle together would be for his funeral and that it would be so soon.  Even so, it felt beautiful.  All that mattered was that we were together, and I know that he was there with me.  Immediately following his procession, I had the opportunity to give Brad’s eulogy.  With my Brad stone in hand, I let him speak through me and I think I said exactly what he would’ve wanted.  He helped me add in some bits of information in the moment that hadn’t previously crossed my mind; he helped me stay strong and poised; in the funny moments, I could hear his laughter and in the difficult moments I could feel his arms wrapped around me telling me to keep going.  

It was so special that Father Pat McDevitt was with us at the visitation and funeral.  He had agreed to marry Brad and me.  He spoke of the beauty of Brad’s death and the opportunity that it provides to us.  He spoke of Brad’s outstanding traits and his No Bad Days way of life.  He spoke of the days that Brad will help us come into the kingdom when we are called, and of the days that we will see him again.  He gave me the opportunity to venerate Brad’s casket before moving on to the cemetery, one last chance to feel like I was lying with him and keeping him comfortable.

I had told Cody before I left that I didn’t expect Katie to speak with me much, or even to hold a conversation with anyone in particular. I just wanted my presence to be a symbol of the prayers that not only I, but many others, have prayed for her strength, peace, and comfort that defies all understanding. Sure enough, the prayers must have been working because Katie’s grace and stoicism defied my understanding. She walked with Brad to his place of rest and watched as those who love Brad and his family surrounded them in a circle.

I was standing in the farthest row back, but could see Katie pretty well. A few moments later, the two men in the front row separated to create a window and a path that flowed freely between me and Katie. She had just been scanning the crowd, probably memorizing as much as she could of the people who rallied for Brad one last time, and stopped when she saw my face. It was worth the effort to be there when I saw her face light up into a big smile. I did my best to blink my tears away, to show her that I could be strong for her if she couldn’t be, but found my eyes sparkling as I pursed my lips into a playful kissy face. I know she felt the love and support then, and that was really enough for me.

Following Fr. Pat’s final comments, Katie announced that we would be releasing balloons, more symbols of prayer and well-wishes for our friend Brad, who we believe is now experiencing the “No Bad Days” magic of heaven. I thought this was a beautiful tribute and found my voice catch again when I saw Katie’s balloon was different than everyone else’s. While others had light blue or silver balloons, Katie’s was white. Like a wedding dress. Like, this shouldn’t be happening, this is all wrong, somebody make this stop.

But then I stopped myself. They have already experienced a deeper love than many married couples can claim. They have lived their marriage vows and didn’t even need an official ceremony to prove it.

And this is how I know Katie will be okay.

The true beauty of marriage, I think, is knowing that no matter what I mess up or mis-take or how vulnerable I feel, Cody will be there to help me pick up the pieces. No matter how badly I feel I’m losing, Cody will lift my chin with his finger and remind me that I am worth something and that I cannot give up.

I know Katie has felt this, too. It’s evident in how she holds herself with confidence and grace and love. She reaches out to the world with wide open hands because she knows that, even if she becomes burned, she will have the love of her family, friends, and Brad’s boundless love to heal her. She will continue to be a light in the world despite such tremendous loss because that love doesn’t just go away. I truly do believe the love that Brad has shown Katie will continue to inspire her, guide her, direct her, console her, and caress her. The love Brad showed Katie will keep her eyes open to the good of the world. She has already tasted some of the sweetest gifts of life, but now that she knows that taste, she’ll recognize it when she tastes it again. And she will.

It was evident when her strong voice rang around us – “1! 2! 3!”
And everyone together, whoever could speak, joined in, “NO BAD DAYS!”

At the cemetery, we released light blue and silver balloons to Brad.  My white balloon separated from the rest, a sign of how unique and special our love is.  Immediately following, the sky opened up and the sun shone through, a “thank you” from Brad for the beautiful balloons and another reassurance that “I am okay.”  

It was hard to leave Brad’s gravesite—I knew that would be the last time I saw the beauty of his casket.  All I could stare at was the ribbon on his flower spray that read “Love of my life Katie.”  Of course, even lowered into the ground with dirt piled high, Brad looked beautiful.  I especially thought so after we adorned his grave with flowers.  

The Real Hindsight, (or What I learned from Katie and Brad)
– I have hope that life will continue even if my Plan A doesn’t work out. In fact, Sheryl Sandberg (COO of Facebook) wrote the book Option B following the death of her husband. I have such faith that, if something as life-altering were to happen in my life, that those around me would also find their own special ways to help guide me through the grief. Because it’s not a new thing, and I believe wisdom and healing can flow from person to person in magical ways. Katie is open enough to the world that she will be able to recognize and receive this love and guidance when it finds her.
– I now know that I can drive to Ohio and back in one day, which makes me feel independent and badass.

 

And so I’m not as afraid of death anymore because I believe so fiercely in the resilience and goodness of my friend. She, though four years younger than I, has already been a testament that death is not the end of love, or life, or good. It is a milestone to be sure, but not one to be feared. The days we have on this earth are limited, but there are no real Bad Days. There are only Days that we are blessed to have and share with others. And as Brad said, “There are no bad days in heaven. If that makes sense.”

It makes complete sense, Brad. Thank you for loving Katie so fiercely. And thank you, Katie, for teaching me that the love I share with my best friend today will only continue to grow tomorrow, even if I’m not able to hold his hand.

Today is June 19, 2017.  Brad died twelve days ago and his funeral and burial were five days ago.  I still have not gone to see him.  His parents have been several times and some of my family members have gone as well.  I think the reason I haven’t gone yet is because I don’t feel like I have to.  I do not have to go to the grave to talk to Brad.  I talk to him all the time.  I thank him for things, ask him questions, and sometimes just plain talk to him.  I know that he hears me and that he looks out for me.  He was always so concerned for my safety and wellbeing while he was here with me, and I know that will continue while he is in heaven.  I love days like today that are sunny with bright blue skies and some puffy clouds because I know he has found the comfiest cloud in heaven to rest upon.  Sometimes, especially when I am praying, I feel him wrap his arms around me from behind, something he always used to do when he was here.

As someone explained to me, it is so hard to lose someone at this time in life and in our situation because my future has been affected as well.  He was my plan and it didn’t really matter to me how anything else worked out.  I always knew I had Brad with me, which was why I could believe in No Bad Days.  I still believe it and want to live my life according to it, but now it’s more of a challenge without such a pivotal piece.  Brad always knew I liked a challenge, so I know he’ll enjoy watching me work through this one.  I often find myself wondering what will come next.  I think this is why it drives me crazy right now when people ask me what’s next.  I have too many questions for myself and their rushing questions make me want to scream.  

This is where I have to trust that Brad is with me and will help me figure out my questions.  Maybe not today or tomorrow or in a year from now, but someday.  He will know when I am ready just like he always did when he was here.  

We thanked each other during our time here together, but I feel as though I should again.  Thank you, Brad for the most, fun, easy, enjoyable, beloved four years of my life.  Most relationships weren’t as easy as ours, something we always reveled in.  It was truly remarkable and wonderful, one of a kind.  

I loved Brad so dearly here on Earth.  I fell more deeply in love with him every day he was healthy, more deeply when he became sick, more deeply the first time I thought I was losing him, more deeply when he died in my arms, more deeply when I spoke about him at the funeral, and more deeply every day since for all that he has continued to do for me.  A guardian angel is a tough job, but I trust in mine and love him more than I can put into words.  He always loved when I tripped over my words and “talked myself in circles” trying to explain something, so I know he is laughing at me now.  While it’s frustrating because I want to be able to explain it, I know some things go beyond explaining and understanding.  

I know wherever life takes me, he will be with me.  I know I will never stop loving him, not even for one second.  He is in my heart, in the air I breathe, and all around me.  I know he will stay there forever.  There are no bad days in heaven, my angel Brad.

Love, your earthly soulmate Katie