And twice at LAX. (and cursed out an asshole wannabe TSA agent)
Once on the car ride there.
Twice in the car ride home.

And several times when I finally made it to my couch.

I thought I was done with the tears, but I started crying while looking at pics of him and realizing I'd never see him again. Or hear his voice. Or fall asleep in his arms. Or hear him tell me how much he loves me. Or laugh at jokes together. Suddenly the future we'd been plotting together is no more.

In the short while we were together, I loved him more than I ever imagined I could love anyone. And we were the cheesy couple who told each other nearly every chance we could. We truly loved each other unconditionally. He was going to do the round-trip on the bus and train just to be at ORD when my plane landed. Just so he could see me ASAP. And just like that, now he's gone and I'll never see him again.

I hate I wasn't here to be with him when he died. I hate I don't have any answers. Just a lot of questions. I hate that the first time I meet his family will be to plan his memorial service. I hate that we won't be able to do all the things we talked and dreamed about. 27 is way too young to die. We had so much more to do. He was my favorite jam.

I'm prone to being one of those "Everything happens for a reason" types. But with so many questions yet unanswered, I'm pretty sure this reason will be elusive for a while to come.

But I'm truly grateful for the support of my family and friends through this time. And thankful he was loved by so many.

But what does one do when the love of their life dies so unexpectedly at such a young age? I know my grandmother found love again after my grandfather was shot and killed shortly after they'd begun their family. Maybe I can tap into her resilience somehow. I hope I can find the peace and strength to pick up again and find a semblance of normalcy.