That picture up there? That's my ex. Christmas of 2003. We went to NY to spend Christmas with my family. His first and only time in NY. We were together for three years. His mom was my boss. We met while setting up for a gymnastics meet and snuck around for six months before letting her know we were dating. While we were together I turned 21. Got my first real apartment on my own. Graduated college. Started a big girl job with benefits. Got engaged. And broke up.
Oh and he fought alcoholism and panic disorder. His anxiety and panic were debilitating. He couldn't leave the house. Couldn't drive. So he would sit home and get drink. He got sober a few times. Had alcohol withdrawal seizures and the doctors told him he wouldn't live to see 30. He was sober when we broke up. And 29. I sporadiacally kept contact with him. He drifted in and out of rehab after that. I started dating Joey. Got married.
Sean would have been 35 today. He always hated his birthday. He shared it with Hitler and the Columbine massacres. He didn't mind smoking alittle weed and listening to Marley on it though. Or a lot of weed. Which I am insanely allergic too. Think projectile vomit. Needless to say we weren't going to make it in the long run. He was a total pacifist. Had a One Life, One Love tattoo.
He passed away in September of 2008 at 31. From alcoholic ketoacidosis.
He proved the doctor's wrong.
Then he gave up.
I was lucky enough to speak at both of his memorial services. I needed that.
I still talk to his mom and sister's.
He will always be a part of me.
He is why I didn't give up on Joey even when I should have. I couldn't fix Sean. He broke up with me because he knew he was holding me back. And he was right. I flourished after we split.
I just wish he could have bloomed too.
Happy Birthday Seannie. I still love you!