In Memorial:
Let me tell you about the most amazing person I've ever known...
Ryan was the most considerate, giving, responsable, kind-hearted, fun, amazing, beautiful person. I once told him he was the perfect mix of man and boy. I've never been with someone so perfectly compatable in every way. He was the first person to ever return to me what I gave them. He made me feel special. He made me feel safe. He completed my soul. He's what I'd been waiting my whole life for. With him, for the first time in memory, I was happy.
Strangely, we met online, last year, but never met due to an hour and a half distance. While we almost crossed paths several times, it was a mutual friend, K, who facilitated our introduction this summer at a Rocky Horror performance. Ryan was dressed appropriately, complete with red fishnet leggings, and horribly self concious.
I later learned that he'd been quite excited to meet me, asking K all about me days in advance. Ryan told me his first thought was "Wow, he looks better in person", which then grew into something more when I didn't hit on him, but I actually engaged him in intelligent conversation. For the entire rest of the night, after I went home, he was a stream of constant questions of K about me.
Later that week, Ryan saw me online and laid the groundwork for some serious flirtation. Three 6-hour IM conversations later... we had our first 2-hour phone call, and a date.
"Ryan (2:03:08 AM): Making you smile is worth the uncertainty"
We had an incredible first date, "Mama Mia". He was so adorable and jittery at meeting me for a real date. He took my arm after we sat in the theater, and I think his head was on my shoulder before the trailers finished. I remember, at some point, I kissed the top of his buzzed head. I felt dumb, but I could see him smile. We went to dinner, after, and then talked for about 3 hours while I drove around. We finally settled back in the theater parking lot and... at his behest of making him earn me... I let him crawl over and give me the best Kiss of my life. To the chagrin of some hicks playing frisbee who yelled "Ew Ew Ew!" and left.
I smiled the whole way home. And the whole next day.
"I'm never going to scutinize you. I pay attention to who you are, and how you sleep, and hold me, and wake up because I feel where you are... and how you move with me. You've done enough to make me feel special..."
We almost immediately planned a platonic overnight for that Friday. Ryan left Monday morning. Late Saturday afternoon, he started with "So, I was thinking maybe I could stay-", "Please do", I interrupted. Late Sunday afternoon, I started with "So, I don't want to be too much too soon, but-", "I wanna stay over again", he interrupted. I did something for Ryan, which I thought was a small thing, the second night he was over. It was dark, and I couldn't see the exact expression on his face. I asked if he was okay. The next morning, he told me he'd been crying because no one had ever cared about him so much as to do what I did. We behaved ourselves for those 3 nights, as promised.
I smiled every morning. And every day until he visited again.
I'd taken 2 days off to spend with a friend, Jon, and a friend of his who was visiting. I told Ryan about the 4 day weekend, and I wanted to see him, but I didn't know if 4 days was too much too soon. He agreed... but we both wanted to try it. The 4 of us went to Boston. Jon's in a relationship with a closeted Conservative. Jon actually asked us to "be gay in public". We oblidged and were the most obnoxiously affectionate couple on Newbury St. That weekend we went to the local club that tolerates 2 boys dirty-dancing. We put on a show that we could have been paid for, and a dragqueen called me out about it, later. That was the best four days I can remember. A week and a half into the relationship, and we were as excited to wake up to one another on the last day of a 4 day visit as we were the first day.
Ryan was going to school in Boston. We knew that would be a hardship, and we discussed it even before the first date. I allowed Ryan to take the lead on how to handle our future. He was adamant he wanted to try. I told him my plans had always been to get to Boston, but I'd been depressed and lethargic for years. I now had motivation. "I want to know what it's like to come home to you."
Ryan's the first person I've ever been in love with. I was terrified when I told him. I choked on those 3 Little Words... started crying, and had to repeat myself. He smiled, and nodded, in a way that an old sage would when a pupil has just had a grand realization about the universe. He kissed me, told me how special I made him feel, and returned the 3 Little Words.
And thus began bus rides to and from Boston, visiting each other alternately. My first weekend in Ryan's small dorm apartment was magical. We went to a hookah bar with his new exotic South American friends. We went on our on little adventure, the next day, just exploring the city, finding a street fair and buying a cynical bumper sticker, set out to make it romantic.
We both prized communication as the foundation of any relationship. I've never known someone so open. Ryan would say the things I'd never ask someone to say. We would sit for hours, staring into each others' eyes, talking about our feelings. Sometimes crying. Sometimes laughing. Never judging, just taking in all of what the other was offering and treasuring it.
I'd been suffering for most of the year with chronic pain that made me unable to exercise in any way. I'd put on some weight and was very self-concious about it. Ryan noticed. One night, as I dashed from the light switch to the bed, he told me to stand back up and put the light on. I reluctantly did. He told me to turn around slowly. He then held me and told me he noticed how self-concious I was, and that he liked what he saw, and he wanted me to believe it. In that moment, I felt the most attractive I've ever felt in my life.
We'd visit whichever of us had something exciting for the weekend. Or, just laze about, watching silly movies like "All Dogs Go to Heaven". I've never been so excited for a bus ride. I'd sit, smiling like an idiot, listening to only the songs on my iPod that made me think of him. I learned how to navigate the T...
All my friends loved him. It was a big deal to me. I'd never had universal approval on anyone I'd dated since moving south. And, usually, criticisms were spot on. I was so afriad of any critical observation. There were none, even from the most judgemental person I know. He came up to visit my mother, twice. She really liked him. Both times, we were mistaken for siblings. "A beautiful mother and her beautiful sons", a nun told my mother. K told me she'd never seen either of us so happy, before.
Ryan is the only person I've ever sent roses.
The note said how much I loved him and how proud I was that someone as amazing as him wanted to be with me. He pixed me a photo of himself with a rose in his mouth and saying, "You are everything I could EVER ask for. I'm the one who should be proud.. I love you."
Ryan dazzled me with his maturity and responsability. He'd had a job being the sole caretaker for a +40 year old autistic man, as well as later managing 2 others who were able to do some work. He parented his younger brother, as their mother started trying to relive her 20's earlier this year. I knew that bothered him a lot, and he spoke of it, often, how she was trying to capture the life she'd lost by being the hit at the local bar, every night, and leaving Ryan to manage the house and his brother. He was always on time to class and usually had assignments done far in advance. He developed gastritis, and without any suggestion of mine, he quit smoking, bought the recommended bland food, and didn't drink until a week after it had passed. I'd never met a college student who was together enough to take care of themselves, like that.
The last bus from Manchester to Boston was full, one Sunday. The smallest voice asked if I could come pick him up. When I did, I held him told him to never hesitate to ask for anything he needed. He was very quiet for a while, then said he'd never been with someone who took care of him.
"Thank you so much for last night and tonight. I'm still getting used to having someone dependable around, and it's a very good feeling."
We threw a small party for Halloween, and it was the best holiday I've ever had. We were zombies and called ourselves a Hate Crime, "We went to Prom together... in the 80s".
With Ryan, I felt like I had an equal. Someone I didn't have to take care of. Someone that I could lean on, and I did at difficult times. Someone I trusted completely in a way I never had before. Someone I saw a future with, wanted a future with, planned a future with.
We were going to have a large factory flat with gross brick walls and expensive white furniture pushed up against them. His family invited me to go to Cancun with them, next summer. I started my financial planning for my move to Boston in early '09.
Life was wonderful... We were in love. We were happy.
Then Ryan got sick. It was a horrible wasting disease. And I lost him.
I've never been confronted with alcoholism, before. I knew he was stressed about a lot of things, and that seemed a plausible excuse for a while. It started with one missed class, then 2, then waking up at 3pm and doing shots for the rest of the day. I voiced my concerns, occasionally, but by the time I really knew to be worried, and I went to Boston to talk about us, about what was going on, about his health... he ended us.
In the course of the break-up conversation, he said that he didn't want to be with anyone as much as me, that no one had ever treated him as well as me, and that we were healthy for each other. As the last bus had left, I had to sleep over. The next morning, he put his arm around me and pulled me tightly to him. I had conflicting feelings about this, but I took his hand, as I thought it would be the last. We cuddled and napped for several hours, as usual. And then I cried until my bus left. It was like he was continuing to unravel in front of me, and he was cheerful about it. Before I left, I asked why he thought ending something healthy was going to help him regain control of his life.
After returning home, I collected myself and realized the obvious. He still wanted me. I had Hope for a while that he'd destress and reconsider. But he got worse. I think he was drunk almost the entire week after the break-up. We spoke once on the phone, at his request, and he took the opportunity to brag about how much he'd drank in the past 4 days, missed 2 classes, and didn't hand in 3 assignments. He's stopped associating with healthy, responsable friends, and he's surrounded himself with junkies.
I'd hoped to stage an intervention with a select group of our friends/family over Thanksgiving vacation. As it turns out, his mother is aware of what's going on and doesn't think anything's wrong. Ryan told me several times about how hard it was for him to watch an ex of his turn into an "alcoholic whore" after they broke up. When I saw pictures he posted of himself, his mother, and that ex doing shots after Thankgiving... I lost Hope.
I've been a complete wreck for the past two weeks, anxious, worried about his health and safety. His online presence has become very intentionally hurtful towards me. His online presence has become very intentionally hurtful towards me. He reaches out, I reach back, and he bites me. I cried this morning over the photos of him drinking and some of the things he said that were aimed at me. At work, K finally gave me the "though love" that I needed.
The "perfect" wonderful boy I fell in love with no longer exists. In his place, there is now a damaged ugly being who feeds off of my fear and misery. Watching his downward spiral is doing nothing but dragging me down with him. It is NOT the same person. I do not know that thing.
This morning. I laid my beautiful, kind, wonderful Ryan to rest...
I don't know if this is an object lesson, or a cautionary anecdote. I've felt a need to express all this. For closure, to make sense of it all, for someone who may need to read it and consider their or their loved one's actions. I never understood addiction as anyone else described it or portrayed it on tv or in movies. It is a horrible disease. It ate away at Ryan's soul just as surely as any physical disease would have eaten away at his body.
I miss my love terribly. I pray for him every morning and every night. The world has lost a beautiful light.
Ryan, I hope to meet you again, some day. Until then... Goodbye, my Love.
Ryan was the most considerate, giving, responsable, kind-hearted, fun, amazing, beautiful person. I once told him he was the perfect mix of man and boy. I've never been with someone so perfectly compatable in every way. He was the first person to ever return to me what I gave them. He made me feel special. He made me feel safe. He completed my soul. He's what I'd been waiting my whole life for. With him, for the first time in memory, I was happy.
Strangely, we met online, last year, but never met due to an hour and a half distance. While we almost crossed paths several times, it was a mutual friend, K, who facilitated our introduction this summer at a Rocky Horror performance. Ryan was dressed appropriately, complete with red fishnet leggings, and horribly self concious.
I later learned that he'd been quite excited to meet me, asking K all about me days in advance. Ryan told me his first thought was "Wow, he looks better in person", which then grew into something more when I didn't hit on him, but I actually engaged him in intelligent conversation. For the entire rest of the night, after I went home, he was a stream of constant questions of K about me.
Later that week, Ryan saw me online and laid the groundwork for some serious flirtation. Three 6-hour IM conversations later... we had our first 2-hour phone call, and a date.
"Ryan (2:03:08 AM): Making you smile is worth the uncertainty"
We had an incredible first date, "Mama Mia". He was so adorable and jittery at meeting me for a real date. He took my arm after we sat in the theater, and I think his head was on my shoulder before the trailers finished. I remember, at some point, I kissed the top of his buzzed head. I felt dumb, but I could see him smile. We went to dinner, after, and then talked for about 3 hours while I drove around. We finally settled back in the theater parking lot and... at his behest of making him earn me... I let him crawl over and give me the best Kiss of my life. To the chagrin of some hicks playing frisbee who yelled "Ew Ew Ew!" and left.
I smiled the whole way home. And the whole next day.
"I'm never going to scutinize you. I pay attention to who you are, and how you sleep, and hold me, and wake up because I feel where you are... and how you move with me. You've done enough to make me feel special..."
We almost immediately planned a platonic overnight for that Friday. Ryan left Monday morning. Late Saturday afternoon, he started with "So, I was thinking maybe I could stay-", "Please do", I interrupted. Late Sunday afternoon, I started with "So, I don't want to be too much too soon, but-", "I wanna stay over again", he interrupted. I did something for Ryan, which I thought was a small thing, the second night he was over. It was dark, and I couldn't see the exact expression on his face. I asked if he was okay. The next morning, he told me he'd been crying because no one had ever cared about him so much as to do what I did. We behaved ourselves for those 3 nights, as promised.
I smiled every morning. And every day until he visited again.
I'd taken 2 days off to spend with a friend, Jon, and a friend of his who was visiting. I told Ryan about the 4 day weekend, and I wanted to see him, but I didn't know if 4 days was too much too soon. He agreed... but we both wanted to try it. The 4 of us went to Boston. Jon's in a relationship with a closeted Conservative. Jon actually asked us to "be gay in public". We oblidged and were the most obnoxiously affectionate couple on Newbury St. That weekend we went to the local club that tolerates 2 boys dirty-dancing. We put on a show that we could have been paid for, and a dragqueen called me out about it, later. That was the best four days I can remember. A week and a half into the relationship, and we were as excited to wake up to one another on the last day of a 4 day visit as we were the first day.
Ryan was going to school in Boston. We knew that would be a hardship, and we discussed it even before the first date. I allowed Ryan to take the lead on how to handle our future. He was adamant he wanted to try. I told him my plans had always been to get to Boston, but I'd been depressed and lethargic for years. I now had motivation. "I want to know what it's like to come home to you."
Ryan's the first person I've ever been in love with. I was terrified when I told him. I choked on those 3 Little Words... started crying, and had to repeat myself. He smiled, and nodded, in a way that an old sage would when a pupil has just had a grand realization about the universe. He kissed me, told me how special I made him feel, and returned the 3 Little Words.
And thus began bus rides to and from Boston, visiting each other alternately. My first weekend in Ryan's small dorm apartment was magical. We went to a hookah bar with his new exotic South American friends. We went on our on little adventure, the next day, just exploring the city, finding a street fair and buying a cynical bumper sticker, set out to make it romantic.
We both prized communication as the foundation of any relationship. I've never known someone so open. Ryan would say the things I'd never ask someone to say. We would sit for hours, staring into each others' eyes, talking about our feelings. Sometimes crying. Sometimes laughing. Never judging, just taking in all of what the other was offering and treasuring it.
I'd been suffering for most of the year with chronic pain that made me unable to exercise in any way. I'd put on some weight and was very self-concious about it. Ryan noticed. One night, as I dashed from the light switch to the bed, he told me to stand back up and put the light on. I reluctantly did. He told me to turn around slowly. He then held me and told me he noticed how self-concious I was, and that he liked what he saw, and he wanted me to believe it. In that moment, I felt the most attractive I've ever felt in my life.
We'd visit whichever of us had something exciting for the weekend. Or, just laze about, watching silly movies like "All Dogs Go to Heaven". I've never been so excited for a bus ride. I'd sit, smiling like an idiot, listening to only the songs on my iPod that made me think of him. I learned how to navigate the T...
All my friends loved him. It was a big deal to me. I'd never had universal approval on anyone I'd dated since moving south. And, usually, criticisms were spot on. I was so afriad of any critical observation. There were none, even from the most judgemental person I know. He came up to visit my mother, twice. She really liked him. Both times, we were mistaken for siblings. "A beautiful mother and her beautiful sons", a nun told my mother. K told me she'd never seen either of us so happy, before.
Ryan is the only person I've ever sent roses.
The note said how much I loved him and how proud I was that someone as amazing as him wanted to be with me. He pixed me a photo of himself with a rose in his mouth and saying, "You are everything I could EVER ask for. I'm the one who should be proud.. I love you."
Ryan dazzled me with his maturity and responsability. He'd had a job being the sole caretaker for a +40 year old autistic man, as well as later managing 2 others who were able to do some work. He parented his younger brother, as their mother started trying to relive her 20's earlier this year. I knew that bothered him a lot, and he spoke of it, often, how she was trying to capture the life she'd lost by being the hit at the local bar, every night, and leaving Ryan to manage the house and his brother. He was always on time to class and usually had assignments done far in advance. He developed gastritis, and without any suggestion of mine, he quit smoking, bought the recommended bland food, and didn't drink until a week after it had passed. I'd never met a college student who was together enough to take care of themselves, like that.
The last bus from Manchester to Boston was full, one Sunday. The smallest voice asked if I could come pick him up. When I did, I held him told him to never hesitate to ask for anything he needed. He was very quiet for a while, then said he'd never been with someone who took care of him.
"Thank you so much for last night and tonight. I'm still getting used to having someone dependable around, and it's a very good feeling."
We threw a small party for Halloween, and it was the best holiday I've ever had. We were zombies and called ourselves a Hate Crime, "We went to Prom together... in the 80s".
With Ryan, I felt like I had an equal. Someone I didn't have to take care of. Someone that I could lean on, and I did at difficult times. Someone I trusted completely in a way I never had before. Someone I saw a future with, wanted a future with, planned a future with.
We were going to have a large factory flat with gross brick walls and expensive white furniture pushed up against them. His family invited me to go to Cancun with them, next summer. I started my financial planning for my move to Boston in early '09.
Life was wonderful... We were in love. We were happy.
Then Ryan got sick. It was a horrible wasting disease. And I lost him.
I've never been confronted with alcoholism, before. I knew he was stressed about a lot of things, and that seemed a plausible excuse for a while. It started with one missed class, then 2, then waking up at 3pm and doing shots for the rest of the day. I voiced my concerns, occasionally, but by the time I really knew to be worried, and I went to Boston to talk about us, about what was going on, about his health... he ended us.
In the course of the break-up conversation, he said that he didn't want to be with anyone as much as me, that no one had ever treated him as well as me, and that we were healthy for each other. As the last bus had left, I had to sleep over. The next morning, he put his arm around me and pulled me tightly to him. I had conflicting feelings about this, but I took his hand, as I thought it would be the last. We cuddled and napped for several hours, as usual. And then I cried until my bus left. It was like he was continuing to unravel in front of me, and he was cheerful about it. Before I left, I asked why he thought ending something healthy was going to help him regain control of his life.
After returning home, I collected myself and realized the obvious. He still wanted me. I had Hope for a while that he'd destress and reconsider. But he got worse. I think he was drunk almost the entire week after the break-up. We spoke once on the phone, at his request, and he took the opportunity to brag about how much he'd drank in the past 4 days, missed 2 classes, and didn't hand in 3 assignments. He's stopped associating with healthy, responsable friends, and he's surrounded himself with junkies.
I'd hoped to stage an intervention with a select group of our friends/family over Thanksgiving vacation. As it turns out, his mother is aware of what's going on and doesn't think anything's wrong. Ryan told me several times about how hard it was for him to watch an ex of his turn into an "alcoholic whore" after they broke up. When I saw pictures he posted of himself, his mother, and that ex doing shots after Thankgiving... I lost Hope.
I've been a complete wreck for the past two weeks, anxious, worried about his health and safety. His online presence has become very intentionally hurtful towards me. His online presence has become very intentionally hurtful towards me. He reaches out, I reach back, and he bites me. I cried this morning over the photos of him drinking and some of the things he said that were aimed at me. At work, K finally gave me the "though love" that I needed.
The "perfect" wonderful boy I fell in love with no longer exists. In his place, there is now a damaged ugly being who feeds off of my fear and misery. Watching his downward spiral is doing nothing but dragging me down with him. It is NOT the same person. I do not know that thing.
This morning. I laid my beautiful, kind, wonderful Ryan to rest...
I don't know if this is an object lesson, or a cautionary anecdote. I've felt a need to express all this. For closure, to make sense of it all, for someone who may need to read it and consider their or their loved one's actions. I never understood addiction as anyone else described it or portrayed it on tv or in movies. It is a horrible disease. It ate away at Ryan's soul just as surely as any physical disease would have eaten away at his body.
I miss my love terribly. I pray for him every morning and every night. The world has lost a beautiful light.
Ryan, I hope to meet you again, some day. Until then... Goodbye, my Love.