He had deep wounds from childhood that would not heal, could not heal, and he just couldn't go on. Some days I understand because I was there in the midst of the chaos. I felt it, and damn near killed myself. The air of destruction was bleeding over into me, the kids, and every part of Ryan's life like a perfect storm that sunk him. He had multiple addictions to cover the pain of what he did not want to face and chose to hide it. I had no idea at all what was going on with his addictions and depression. A healthy brain can not know what it feels like to have an unhealthy brain, cannot understand that irrational of one who is sick except to acknowledge it and help them face the fear of self awareness. Ryan chose to hide that part of himself and it killed him. Therefore, we must always be honest with each other about what is in our hearts. If we don't, we die. Period.
He broke his own chains and went out on his own terms. When I hear Sinatras "I did it My way" I think I will think of him and tell him I am going to kick his ass when I get to heaven. He lived life on his own terms, and went out on his own terms. He looked peaceful and glowing like God himself touched him to carry him home, his race being run. I remember when he met me and started to read live journal to see what my life was like. It was so romantic and wonderful. He made me feel like my parents were out of town and I had a gorgeous dangerous bad boy over. Every night was a slumber party.
I remember the movies we watched this year in particular Night Train to Lisbon and The Little Princess (1995 version). The tv shows, the time spent cuddling and making love. His poetry which I always kept private and sacred to my heart. The way we played hide and seek in the house and chased each other at dangerous speeds.
I grieve everything, the life he wont live, the things we wont get to do together like watch ann of green gables or go to see the monarch butterflies arrive in mexioco. He will never see England or distant shores, or learn Anthony's song on guitar Tennessee River whcih was his new years goal.
He was so beautiful, inside and out. He just did not want to do the work it would have taken to get better. He had told me that he had been wanting to kill himself since he was young and that being with me extended his life if he were to ever die in a car wreck as he put it. This extension allowed him to reconnect with his oldest boy and see the other 2 emotionally developed. In essence, Ryan gave me everything I ever wanted as an adult, a family, and now he is part of the bricks and mortar. He came home to die where felt safe and loved. Now he is with my parents cheering me on from the side lines. That's how I have to look at it, and love never dies.
I am reminded of a Pushkin poem that was written for the living who were to separate, but I feel that I will always keep his memory alive in me and speak his name for comfort in times of trial. Ryan will never be forgotten as long as I shall live.
What's in my name?..
What's in my name? It's soulless,
It shall expire, like the dismal roar
Of waves that hit the distant shore, --
Like nighttime noises in the forest!
Upon the memo sheet, in grief,
Its imprint in the stillborn gloom,
Much like the writing on the tomb,
In foreign language it will leave.
What's in it? All the lost and trite
In new and wild insurrection,
Within your soul it won't excite
The pure and kind recollections.
But silently, in time of anguish
Pronounce it softly while grieving
Say that my memory won't vanish
That there's a heart in which I'm living...