"He's gone."

It's been 31 days.  31 days?  31 days.  It does not seem real, yet it seems the sincerest truth I have ever had to face. 

I suppose it's time to write out a story that I've replayed in my head and to friends time and time again.  It's not something I look forward to typing out, but it is something that is necessary I think.  I can't let these details slip away, because as painful as they are, they are a part of the story, a part of the healing process and a part of Richard's legacy.

Two days after Christmas Richard was taken to the hospital by ambulance due to severe chest pains.  Chest pains so severe that he could not get himself off of the couch - not even with the help of his mother.  He was put in a room on the cardiology floor where he stayed for exactly two weeks.  Initially the doctors found a bit of pneumonia in his left lung which they attributed his chest pain to.  However they kept saying, "there is another infection there, though, and we are going to run some tests to figure out what is going on."  For two weeks he endured poking and prodding, multiple blood samples taken and every other unpleasant thing that results in a hospital stay.  He had daily fevers and was constantly fatigued, tired from medication and tired of answering constant questions, his white blood cell count rising everyday.  He had his crabby moments, definitely, but was able to stay in a pretty positive mindset a lot of the time.

It was an exhausting two weeks.  I've personally never been through anything like this and never realized how emotionally and mentally tiring hospital visits could be.  I would go up to the hospital almost everyday from 8 am until about 1 pm, working on my computer or phone from the semi-comfortable chair by his bed.  His mom would come up after lunch once she left work and take the afternoon/evening shift, his sister visiting as well.  I would usually go back up at night after I had spent some time at home with my dog.  The evenings were full of a lot of his mom and I talking and poking fun at him from time-to-time, out of love of course.  We watched a lot of episodes of NCIS and Shipping Wars.  We spent New Year's Eve together, the 3 of us nested in the tiny hospital room.  He wore his party hat for approximately 2 minutes.  Enough to get a picture.  The last picture I have of him. We took occasional wheel chair rides around the floor, going down every hallway that we were authorized to go down.  I spent a lot of time crying next to his hospital bed, frustrated that we did not know what was going on.  Frustrated that he was sick.  Frustrated that he was crabby sometimes and there was not much I could do to help.  He did such a good job of being sweet to me though.  As best as he could.  I would cry and he would hold my hand and try to calm me down.  As stressful as those days could be, I'd love to go back to them.  Just to see him again.

Two weeks went by and on Thursday night, January 10th the doctors finally diagnosed him with acute myeloid leukemia.  One of the most aggressive strands.  Of course it was.  Richard never did anything half-ass, remember?  That night they moved him to his own room on the oncology floor.  The oncology room was big and sterile and cold.  Not like the tiny room that we had been cozily crowded in for the last two weeks.  It did not feel welcoming.  Probably because it knew we wouldn't be there for long anyway.  Early Friday morning Richard was moved to the critical care unit.  His body could no longer handle the extremely high white blood cell count.  (A normal WBC is around 10,000 - when Richard died his was 170,000...remember - nothing half-ass).

I saw him Friday morning at 10:30 for the first time.  His mom, my most recent partner in crime, and I met outside the doors and walked in together.  I'm not sure what I was expecting.  I just know I wasn't expecting what I saw.  A shell of Richard.  A heavily sedated, on-a-ventilator, puffed-up-from-fluids Richard.  I immediately burst into tears as his mom explained to me everything that was going on.  We visited with him for about 20 minutes, talking to him and about him, receiving no response back.  We were back again at 1:30.  And back again about 3:45 to wait around for the 4:30 visit time.  I had originally not planned to be there for that visit as I had to teach Zumba that night.  I took a chance and asked some of the other instructors if they would mind subbing for me and thank God someone agreed.  I guess I had a feeling that I needed to be there, though at the time I did not really recognize the feeling.

At about 3:50 the nurses called his mom up.  I waited impatiently in the waiting room for her to give me an okay to come up too.  I hyperventilated a little bit, called my mom and told her what was going on, said that maybe he's awake and he just wants to see his mom right now.  Several minutes later his mom texted me and told me I could come up.  His sister was on her way to the hospital, right behind us.  They took me into the consultation room where his mom was, red-faced with tears.  I cried instantly, because I knew.  But even though I knew, I demanded that someone say it aloud.  Finally one of the nurses stated, he's gone.  Sobs escaped my mouth, along with the word, "what," over and over again.  I simply could not believe that he was gone.  I texted my mom through my tears, saying I need you here.  I listened to his mom directing his sister to where we were.  At that moment I left the room as I wanted for them to have their moment together.  I was led into the room where he lay.

And there he was - my sweet boy.  Completely free of machines, IVs, tubes and pain.  It had been a long time since I had seen him like that.  I stared at him, touched his arm, held his hand.  Was happy that he hadn't shaved in two weeks because he was able to form a nice-sized beard.  He always told me he was going to grow his beard out like one of the guys from Duck Dynasty (I always pleaded that he not).  His mom and sister came into the room and there we stood - 3 women that loved him so severely that I swear all of our hearts burst out of our chests and fell onto the hospital floor.  I think that we all left pieces of our hearts there in that room, too.

The rest of the story is not that important.  I continue to recall the fact that I really never, ever thought Richard would die.  I never thought it would end the way it did.  I continually think about him laying in his hospital bed, looking at me as I cried, telling me it was going to be okay, that he wasn't dying.  It's all so ironic now.  I think back to how he allowed me to help bathe him with a rag, warm water and gross hospital soap.  I washed his hair and his upper body, and I left the room as he did the rest, his shoulders and chest too sore to lift his arms.  You've really crossed some boundaries here, you know, he'd said. You gotta do what you gotta do, I had told him.  I am so glad he let me into his heart as far as he did.

Missing him a lot tonight, and every night, but especially tonight.  Wishing he was sitting on my couch with me, watching an episode of Friends, shaking his head at me as I giggle at everything Chandler says.  Wishing he was here to cuddle with and wishing I had his shoulder to cry on.

But my hope and faith in the Lord continue to grow.  God has blessed me with the absolute greatest friends and family.  I am constantly overwhelmed with love from them all and am forever grateful for the roles they play in my life.  Just as I will be forever grateful for the role Richard played in my heart.  Kudos to you if you've read this post all the way until the end, as I know it is long.  But Richard deserves long posts and many words, for all of the kind words he lent me.

Sometimes He Was Such a BOY.

"For the last few days my head has been clear as ever and my heart beating me to sleep.  That demonstrating thud that reminds me that I'm full of love, not hate that once flooded veins.  I thank God for this as well as each breath that vacates my lungs.  The crisp transformation of oxygen to vein to aortic tendency, God's creative release.

I hope you've found peace amongst chaotic times.  These days have proven fortunate, revealing thoughts I used to ask God for as a kid.  When I was 9, I recall praying to Him every night for life to make sense.  I was curious and wildly infatuated with the consistency of an answer, rather than asking the right question.  As of lately, I've been so tied up with questions instead of allowing God to answer.

Humility has brought me to my knees...and I love every bit of it.  I love every bit of God.  I love every bit of you.  And luckily, today, I'm not playing for keeps.  Each second I pray in hopes to fully turn over my shortcomings so I can be a device God uses to do His work.  I hope He includes you in my journey.  I love you. R. Gaiser III"
- letter from Richard, September 21st, 2012

I love that Richard used to thank ME for my invigorating spirit, as he commended me for my passion to gain the most of life.  As I reread this letter, it is so apparent how much he desired to obtain a full and meaningful life.  This was always his passion, too.  He just had more obstacles thrown in his way.  And although he did lead a very short life, he certainly did not lead a boring one.  Even the way he left us was not boring.  After all...Richard never did anything half-ass.

I used to love working through issues and misunderstandings with Rich.  I know this sounds absurd because who enjoys sifting through problems?  I never had.  But then God brought me this boy that was willing to sit down with me, hear my point of view, explain his, demonstrate different perspectives and come to either a conclusion, or to a decision to agree to disagree.  I had always been scared of confrontation in relationships, terrified to make my boyfriend mad and that if I did, he would walk away.  Extremely healthy, I know.  But with Richard I found someone that would communicate with me, that would challenge me and that would help me grow.

At first I questioned if the fact that we were so different would work for us.  Did opposites really attract?  Sometimes he was just such a BOY.  His sense of humor and his conversations.  And I can be such a GIRL.  Full of emotion and the desire to watch Meg Ryan movies until I am blue in the face.  I worked on softening him as he worked on toughening me.  We both had constant struggles that we needed to work on.  But how cool it was when we were trying to hold one another accountable.  I would try and steer him from using profane language (as I tried, and continue to try, to steer myself away from it as well) and he would call me out for being gossipy.  I'll never forget when he told me he was disappointed in me when I spoke harshly of an acquaintance's relationship.  "I just don't think we have any room to judge someone else's relationship.  It's not like ours is perfect," he'd said.  I was angry at him (but really I was just embarrassed and ashamed) and attracted to him all at the same time.  I loved that he was willing to challenge me like that, to be a better person.  After a few minutes of swallowing my pride, I thanked him for his love.

Tomorrow will mark one month since the Lord called Richard home.  It's very hard to believe that he's been gone from this world for that long.  It feels as though one month has flown by and crawled along all at the same speed.

I pray for peace and comfort for his family, for his friends and for myself.  I ask that you pray for the same. 

How many boyfriends would petsit your extremely large and furry cat...and then send you pictures like this? :)

Bench Sitting.

Some of my favorite memories to reminisce are the times when Rich and I first started dating and we simply wanted to see one another all the time.  However, when we first met, we were both living with our parents, and seeing as how neither one of us wanted to dive into the "meet the parents" routine and hang out at one another's house before we had even become official, we literally ran around and sat on every bench in the Madison and Huntsville areas.

Of course the first bench was the one we spent two and a half hours on after the establishment we had been in had closed.  I guess that's what set the precedent of the bench-sitting.  We would meet up at Starbucks and sit on the big couch inside and chat.  Then we would move outside to one of the tables after they would close and chat for at least an hour more.  We would go to dinner and then drive out to Big Spring Park in Huntsville and sit under a gazebo.  There was also that time that we were going to hang out one night after my Zumba class (thank God he was not afraid of a little girlie sweat...he thought I was cute regardless), and none of our friends at the gym knew we were really dating yet.  After class we all hung around and chatted, including our clueless friends.  We tried to play it cool and casually get everyone to go on and head home so that no one would see us hop in the car together.  (We dated for about 3 weeks before we let everyone know...just because of that whole, he was kind of my "boss" and all - even though it was just Zumba!)

All of the bench-sitting really forced us to get to know one another on a personal and emotional level.  We spent so much of our first weeks talking about our pasts.  In fact, at our first coffee date, Richard held very little back.  He laid everything out in front of me.  He illustrated his past for me, speaking of his struggles and demons, as well as praising God for his victories.  I spoke the same of mine.  It is true that Richard had been through so much in his short life.  Things that I could not even fathom or begin to relate to.  He told me later that he likes to dish a lot out right at first to make sure that the person will not be easily scared off.  I was not scared.  I was incredibly intrigued by this man.  I found him interesting, mysterious and just downright attractive.  He could not have pushed me away even if he had wanted to.  And thank God he didn't want to. 

Although we were very different - different music tastes, different college experiences, different types of friends - we were also able to connect on such a deep level.  Our faiths were strong, our visisons for the lives we wanted were the same and our hearts were the same.  I felt so connected to him even throughout our surface differences.  Sometimes the surface differences would bother me, only because they were not what I had ever envisioned for a relationship of mine - and then he would look at me and tell me how beautiful I was.  Then all of those differences faded. 

I like to look back on that moment and think that God was like, "oh yea - you guys are both in for a little shake up.  In a great way, of course."

Content with Being Here Today.

A dark and dreary night brought a brand new day.  A bright, warm, blue-skied day.  Oh, how thankful I am for that.

Thank you to those of you that lifted me up in prayer last night and today.  My energy and motivation are significantly higher and I know it is because so many of you prayed!  Today I cleaned my house.  I answered e-mails and phone calls without cringing.  I've found myself just content with being here today.  What a blessing.

After Richard passed away, I recall telling friends and family, as well as thinking over and over again, how lucky I felt that I was the person that God chose to place in his life for the end.  That probably seems weird to hear, but it is so true.  How blessed am I that I, not only had the opportunity to even know Richard and to be impacted by him, but I also had the opportunity to love him and BE loved by him in his very last days.  In his last 6 months.  It all makes sense to me now as to why our relationship accelerated at the speed it did.  As to why we were dropping the L-Bomb 3 weeks into dating.  It all seems very rushed, I thought.  But also extremely natural.  I was so scared to let emotions and feelings fly out from my heart at a lightning pace.  I was scared I would get hurt.  I was scared to lose control.  But thank God that He bestowed such charisma and passion upon Richard.  He drew my feelings out of me and made things feel simple as we went from acquaintances, to sort-of friends, to boyfriend and girlfriend.  If I had let fear completely rule my mind I would have missed out on so much.

Ending this post with the words that Rich wrote in my birthday card.  So lucky am I to have these.

"Through the last few years of life I've found it difficult to come to terms with trusting an individual enough to open up, much less love and let love.  You've made that a seamless and easy task and I'm grateful to have had the chance to meet you, to know you, and to love you.  There are times when I'm overwhelmed with happiness just knowing God can create such a charasmatic and sincere human form.  I love you.  Rich"

A Dark and Dreary Post.

I'm sitting here tonight, a little sick to my stomach.  It probably has a lot to do with the 15 pizza rolls and 3 doughnuts I consumed for dinner.  It also has a lot to do with the fact that I have just had one of those days.  One of those sad, bottom of the barrel days.  I'm sad.  Just so sad right now.

And I am frustrated.  And as weird as this sounds, I don't really think that I have felt frustration at all throughout these 3 weeks and 4 days.  I only recall feeling frustrated when I found out that Richard was diagnosed with leukemia.  I remember thinking, are you kidding me?  How is this fair?  This guy has already been through SO much in his short 25 years.  Mainly what he'd been through was a life-altering car accident when he was a senior in high school.  One that they did not think he'd live through.  And now this?  He's the least deserving person.  But then who is EVER deserving to live with disease?  No one.  No one is.  And then he was gone so fast after the diagnosis I did not even have time to focus on my frustration anymore.  Frustration QUICKLY turned to heartbreak.

But today I found myself really frustrated.  Irritable and anxious.  Confused and questioning.  Lonely.  Unmotivated.  Bored.  Desiring a change.  When sad things happen I like for my surroundings to change.  This is why I constantly rearrange my furniture.  Or why I even reorganize items on my shelves.  I guess it is because someone that was such a huge part of my life has suddenly been taken from me.  Gone in the blink of an eye.  Such a drastic change has shaken my whole world.  Other things must, then, change too.  How can I just go along with my bed in its normal place when so many other things have shifted around me?

This is where I need help.  This is where I need prayer.  I need prayer for energy and motivation.  I need to dig as deep down as I can to muster up an ounce of desire to go about the day-to-day tasks.  And please do not let this alarm you.  I am getting out plenty, seeing many friends.  It's not as if I am hermit-ing my life away in my house.  I just want to look forward to the day-to-day, tedious tasks like I used to be able to.

Also do not take my dark and dreary post tonight as me being angry with God.  I still believe God's plan is perfect and that He has a reason for everything.  I'm just being completely honest and admitting that I am having trouble feeling it tonight.  But I needed to get it all off my chest, out in the open.  Freedom of thought to hand as Richard would say.  He loved that term.  He loved writing in that way.  I miss my friend everyday.  I'd be a fool to think that the hole in my heart will ever go away, but I will look forward to the days when the pain is not so deep.

"I've been told God works through your surroundings those days you may not be able to find Him inside.  My struggles are lessened beside you, darling.  Your beauty is an ever-growing trace of His presence in my life."
-letter from Richard Gaiser, December 12, 2012

Oh, sweet Richard.

"You Will Not Marry This Man."

We've all heard stories from people that claim to have heard God speak to them, right?  I've always thought that seemed cool, to know for a fact that He spoke to you and it was clear as a crystal, blue day.  I've never been one of those people with a story like that.

Until now.

Forgive me as I type this out if this is not a completely developed thought.  The truth is that I haven't really thought too deeply about all of this until pretty recently.  I recall the details of my God-heard moment but I believe I pushed it out of my head after it had happened, simply assuming it was just a fleeting thought I conjured up.  However, now it all makes sense.

I think it was back in October.  I was lying in bed, well on my way to a peaceful slumber.  All of the sudden I had a loud and clear thought.  Loud enough in my head that it jolted my eyes open.  Now it was not in a deep, booming voice - not in a voice that one would think that our powerful God would sound like.  No, it was in my own voice, just like any other thought.  Except that it wasn't coming from me, to me.  It was coming from someone else.

"You will not marry this man."

My eyes flung open but I stayed very still.  What? I thought.  Where did that come from?  Are you sure?  But I love him.  I can see myself marrying him.  As my thoughts argued with that statement, nothing else seemed to come to me.  Just confusion.  It didn't last long.  I eventually just waved that idea out of my head.  I had fallen head over heels for Richard and I had just recently come to the conclusion that I could, indeed, see myself marrying him.  I didn't have time for all of this nonsense.

Fast forward to today and it all seems so obvious now.  I have no doubts that this was God speaking to me.  Giving me just a subtle nudge.  Planting a small seed in my heart to prepare me for what was to come.  Not that I would have ever guessed that this is where things would have unfolded, but He was trying to warn me.  Of course I didn't listen.  We never really listen do we?  I look back on it now and I think...whoa.  How cool.

I hope you don't think I am crazy.  I just can't see how it could have been anything else.  Another thing I used to think about a lot, without really being able to understand it, was that although I could see myself marrying this boy, I never felt like it was going to be a long-term relationship.  I remember it kind of being a nagging feeling I would get, but I did not get where it was coming from or why it would pop up.  I'd picture our wedding, our life together, being able to spend as much time with him as I wanted.  But deep down I knew it wouldn't last forever.

It all makes sense now.  I'm glad that I didn't really pay attention to all of it, because then I could have missed out on so much.  But then again, God was never telling me to leave.  He knew I wouldn't leave.  I was too in love.  Too committed.  He was just trying to prepare my heart for what would happen.

Awesome and painful blended together.

High five, Steve Jobs.

Well I cried in public again.  And I feel like this probably isn't even the best way to start off a post, because I'm sure you're all thinking, "well of course you cried in public again...what else is new?"

But last night I was out with 7 friends, having some solid gal time and a few (and by few I mean several) appetizers.  We were all sitting around and chatting, several different conversations happening at once.  My friend, Kristin, proceeds to tell me a story about one of her friends that recently lost her father.  She tells me about how her friend is grieving, wishing that she had at least had a voice mail from her father saved and that she (Kristin) informs her friend that the iPhone does in fact save deleted messages...and well, you can see where this is going.

So, of course, I pull out my phone and start trying to figure out how to retrieve deleted messages.  In my head, and aloud, I'm like, "well I actually already have one voice mail saved so this isn't a big deal, let's just see if anything is left."  I start scrolling through hundreds of deleted voice mail messages, searching for his name and my breath catches.  There are three in a row listed from "Bender's Gym."  And they are dated April 25th.

"Oh my gosh!  I think these are from when Rich called me to set up my interview."  (Don't know what I'm talking about?  Refresh your memory by reading this.) I hold the phone up to my right ear and plug my finger into my left.  All I have to hear is the beginning to know that these are, in fact, the messages that started everything.  I start squealing, laughing and crying all at the SAME time.  It's hard to picture, I know, but it happened.

Maybe I'm just grasping at straws here to just hold on to anything and everything I have left.  Maybe I'm over-romanticizing all of these tiny incidences.  But I just sit in awe all the time of how fortunate I have been to continue find these random, priceless gifts.  These things just excite me so much as they help me remember all of the little details about the beginning of our relationship.  Often the things in the beginning get lost.  They start to all fade together into one big blur, and 6 months later here you are and there they went.  And here I am, stumbling upon memory after memory of our sweet time together.  I get to hear his voice whenever I want.  I get to hear how his voice changes from the first message (before we talked), to the second message (after we talked and possibly flirted), to the third message (after we met).  I just feel so lucky.  High five to you, Steve Jobs.