I’ve debated what I wanted to write for a while. I’ve thought about poetry; I’ve thought about short stories, imagining what could have been. We would have had an apartment together, the three of us; we would have had a few cats (maybe more than a few); we’d all help run the book store downstairs, and we would have had treats at the register; we would have loudly sung Twenty One Pilots and show tunes together while we cooked; we would have, we would have, we would have…
Someone took that away from us. Someone murdered them. It turns out that, when it’s happening to you, there are no pretty words to soften the blow. A person you love has been killed. We don’t know why, we don’t know who did it. They’re gone, and that’s it.
“I’m sorry for your loss, even though you didn’t really know them.”
Didn’t really know them? Sure, we never met in person, and that takes away a lot of experiences we could have had. But I knew them, and I loved them, and they loved me, and that’s it. We talked endlessly about our writing, our witchcraft, our plans for the future. We had video chats while they made brownies and danced to Fall Out Boy in the kitchen. We watched TV shows and movies together, and had a list of things to watch together later. We complained about the distance, discussed how we were going to meet in the airport, how we would kiss and hold each other and never let go. We joked about confusing straight monogamous people while on dates, the three of us together. We sent each other letters and little gifts. We had so many little plans, as simple as cuddle puddles and what tea I would make them in the morning. We had so many big plans, like where we would live and what our careers would be.
Our love was real—is real. Real and warm and strong.
I will never get good morning messages from them again. I will never hear them stumble over a flute solo again. I will never get cute pictures of them with their cats again. I will never again feel the quiet rush of joy when the words “I love you” fall from their lips.
They were murdered, and that’s it.
A year ago, I would not have survived this. But here I am, alive, so painfully alive. They would have wanted me to live, and so I will do just that.
On this Trans Day of Remembrance, I ask that you keep those who have been lost close to your heart. Never let them go. I ask that you hold your loved ones tight, and express your love for them in any way you can. I ask that you be there for those still alive, those who have lost their friends, their family, their partners.
Life is a cruel, unpredictable thing. Humans are cruel, unpredictable beings. I would love to send a positive message here, but the wound is still too fresh and I am still too bitter and angry and sad.
Keep your loved ones close. You never know what could happen to them.
I love you, Simon. I will always love you.
Love, Taken | @faeriescribe