10 years has passed.
On June 14th, 2009, my boyfriend Jason died. I was making breakfast for my kiddos, and I heard thumping in the hall. I went around the corner to see him collapse and die. A massive heart attack at age 34. Far too young. I was 28, and my boys were very young. We all saw it happen.
I crumbled. I truly believed at that point in time that he was the love of my life. And in the months and years following, I always believed that my one and only chance at true love died with him. Not only that, but I didn’t trust life anymore. I was terrified of losing my kids and others I held dear. A burning anxiety plagued me for years.
I decided that to honor Jason’s memory, and to be the best mom for my boys, I needed to get my shit together. I attended psychotherapy, took meds, and eventually even worked up to working a full time job again. It took years, but I was able to mend myself and become a whole person again.
Once I was finally happy with my station in life and my capabilities to provide for my family, I met the TRUE love of my life, Jarrod. He’s the only one to ever make me feel the way I do.
Jason was important to me. He taught me a lot in life, and taught me volumes in death. And after 10 years I can finally say I understand the purpose of everything and how it fits for me. The whole experience made me love deeper, cherish stronger, and appreciate so very much more, the people and experiences I have now. I will be forever grateful for those lessons. After all this time I feel like I’ve finally turned the page.