In Memorandum.
In the past week, I've been going back and forth, debating this post, its contents, and whether or not I was ready to actually sit and post it, but I think I may be.
Almost week ago today, on January 26, 2010 at approximately 10:30 pm, Brian Cooper, my fiance, cruormagus, passed away.
It was due to an e.coli infection contracted just five days after his second chemotherapy session. His immune system and cell counts were likely low due to the treatment, thus leaving him even more susceptible to infections.
He was 27 years old, my best friend in the entire world, and the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. We had a house, a small family with our two cats, and plans to embark into graduate school together, so we could both be Very Important Doctors, even if not the medical kind. He thought Howard's Conan the Barbarian was the epitome of manliness and seemed to show an absolutely endless patience for dealing with my own personal neuroses and less appealing personality quirks. He was an incredibly brave individual; despite the more than half a dozen severe medical maladies he overcame through his short life, he almost never felt sorry for himself. He had always striven to overcome his physical shortcoming, never faltering in being hardworking, caring, considerate, and responsible.
I've thought a million times as to how I was going to write this post, and, of course, the results come no where near to what I had anticipated. All I know is that, though there is a huge Brian-shaped void in my life now that no one else will ever fill, I am extremely blessed to have known him and to have been with him, even if the time was brief. I've gained another family through his parents, brother, cousins, and aunts and uncles, and I'm lucky to have them all here for me now. That doesn't take all the pain away by any measure, but it helps.
I know I'm never going to stop missing him, but ahead of me is a strange, unmapped road. Brian wouldn't have shied away from taking it. He would have pulled up his bootstraps and forged ahead. I hope that I can do the same.
I've kind of drifted away from my friends here on the sphere of teh Interwebz; it was a tough decision, but one I felt was needed for the dramatic change that occurred in my life. Another dramatic change has left me feeling isolated. My whole life has to go through yet another change, and I don't know how it will end up for me. But I miss you all terribly right now, and know that I'll have support and be in everyone's thoughts, so thank you. Thank you so much. Some of you have met Brian, knew him a little better than those of you who never have. I'm devastated that those of you who didn't will never get the chance. Hopefully, though, enough of him will live on through me that you'll still feel you got to know him, even if only a little.
Almost week ago today, on January 26, 2010 at approximately 10:30 pm, Brian Cooper, my fiance, cruormagus, passed away.
It was due to an e.coli infection contracted just five days after his second chemotherapy session. His immune system and cell counts were likely low due to the treatment, thus leaving him even more susceptible to infections.
He was 27 years old, my best friend in the entire world, and the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. We had a house, a small family with our two cats, and plans to embark into graduate school together, so we could both be Very Important Doctors, even if not the medical kind. He thought Howard's Conan the Barbarian was the epitome of manliness and seemed to show an absolutely endless patience for dealing with my own personal neuroses and less appealing personality quirks. He was an incredibly brave individual; despite the more than half a dozen severe medical maladies he overcame through his short life, he almost never felt sorry for himself. He had always striven to overcome his physical shortcoming, never faltering in being hardworking, caring, considerate, and responsible.
I've thought a million times as to how I was going to write this post, and, of course, the results come no where near to what I had anticipated. All I know is that, though there is a huge Brian-shaped void in my life now that no one else will ever fill, I am extremely blessed to have known him and to have been with him, even if the time was brief. I've gained another family through his parents, brother, cousins, and aunts and uncles, and I'm lucky to have them all here for me now. That doesn't take all the pain away by any measure, but it helps.
I know I'm never going to stop missing him, but ahead of me is a strange, unmapped road. Brian wouldn't have shied away from taking it. He would have pulled up his bootstraps and forged ahead. I hope that I can do the same.
I've kind of drifted away from my friends here on the sphere of teh Interwebz; it was a tough decision, but one I felt was needed for the dramatic change that occurred in my life. Another dramatic change has left me feeling isolated. My whole life has to go through yet another change, and I don't know how it will end up for me. But I miss you all terribly right now, and know that I'll have support and be in everyone's thoughts, so thank you. Thank you so much. Some of you have met Brian, knew him a little better than those of you who never have. I'm devastated that those of you who didn't will never get the chance. Hopefully, though, enough of him will live on through me that you'll still feel you got to know him, even if only a little.