David and I may not have been able to stand side by side for very long, but we have always stood together. A million miles apart we will always be one. A husband or not, boyfriends or friends, partners in life or enemies till death, in being Happy or Mizery. The two of us fell in love at first sight 1 week before we first met. That week was the hardest week of my life until the first week after his leaving us. Before we give our farewell, I wanted to share some words to this crazy up and down, all over the place, feeling he and I shared. David and I had a certain kind of love. It's not that we had it once or twice, we didn't have it apart or together, but we got it from within each other always and forever. I'll try to explain.

Whether in the quiet cocoon of his room or swaddled up on my couch, beneath the hushed melodies of muted video games or quieted screams in a movie, we found solace in being together even though it tore us apart. Wrapped in the embrace of blankets, nestled close together, feeling the movement of each of our breaths, the warmth of our hearts. Our chests, these tender sanctuaries, cradled the symphony of this shared heartbeat—a rhythmic echo between the two, that painted the canvas of our shared spirit destined to walk two separate paths.

It's like the silky softness of his lightly tinted skin, a tactile poetry, whispered tales of intimacy but I didn't need to lay my head on his chest to hear the whispers. Although when we touched it was electric, simply laying eyes on each other was our gentle haven that forever allows us to feel the ebb and flow of life coursing through each other, a dance of pulses that resonates with the unspoken language of our weird and chaotic connection. It’s a melody written in the delicate script of love beyond measure from a time before our creation—a silent composition that speaks volumes in the silent conversation between heartbeats. A music forever only he and I could hear. A song that still played for us both a decade of time apart, simply a matter of heart.

Amidst the subdued ambiance of video game worlds or scary movies, wherever and whenever the sounds retreat, we could allow the music of our hearts to take center stage in each other's senses, forever marveling at the painful beauty of this private symphony housed in our bodies. The cadence of his heartbeat, a lullaby that transcends the boundaries of words, created a timeless melody that etched itself into the fabric of my body and mind - to be forever replayed.

In each other's eyes, the tender embrace of shared warmth, together or apart, we found sanctuary where the outside world could fade away, leaving only the intimate dialogue of our intertwined spirit where he could be me and I could be him. Those moments, where the palpitations of our hearts echo like a love-struck sonnet, remain eternally imprinted - a testament to the profound beauty found in the simplicity of having met eye to eye completed our self. It has always made life together tumultuous and life apart unbearable.

The losing of his life sent a cord ratting within me, setting off this overwhelming beat that turn my senses against me, stopping me in my tracks, preventing my breath from escaping my body. Unable to sleep, unable to speak, unable to answer the phone when our family was calling to inform me of our loss. 

When I first laid my face on his chest, I was immersed in the serenade of his heartbeat matched with mine, a united symphony that transcends the limits of sound—a melody that continues to play, resonating in the chambers of my heart, a timeless refrain of love and connection - wholeness and completion which leaves me feeling that I am without my self - unable to live. My heart alone has no rhythm to support me. My body unable to house me. My mind unable to contain me. Where have I gone? Who's taken my body. And where is my Dayday who's left me this song?

Although unaware of what I am to do, I am still able to see. I'm able to hear. I feel this body I'm in, It's stomach is turning and It's head is throbbing so hard. It's taken me hostage. It’s not that of my own. So I sit here feeling I just wanna go home.