My Dearest Bo,

“If you don’t get help, you’re going to die!” I’ll never forget the day I said these very words to you, hoping they would serve as a wakeup call. I told you what would happen and you didn’t fucking listen to me.

Your death was totally, 100 percent preventable, and you had the power to prevent it. But you didn’t. You made the choice to neglect your physical and mental health. You made the choice not to get better, to not get the help you needed. You made the choice to not make a choice. You made a choice that had heart-rending consequences.

Now, two little girls are without their daddy. Your parents are without their son. Your sister is without her brother. Your extended family without their nephew, cousin, grandson. Your friends without their buddy. The world without your art. And I am without my beloved. It didn’t have to be this way; our story wasn’t over.

I have felt very little other than wretched despair and rage since hearing the news of your death. And I have to wake up every fucking day in pain the moment I open my eyes because I have no choice but to face the fact that I still exist in a world where you no longer do. Not only that, I don’t get a say in my existence. You know why? Because I choose not to let myself have a say. Do you know how much it fucking kills me, to have to go on living without you? Still, I can’t just throw everything away and stop living my life because you didn’t want to live yours.

I’ve been romanticizing this as a tragedy of losing the love of my life but the truth is, you took yourself away from me with the choices you made.

I’m livid because you’re gone. At first, I was angry with you, but then I realized maybe I really just angry with the situation. Maybe you were too ashamed or afraid to ask for help, didn’t know how, or felt like you didn’t deserve it. Maybe you didn’t see the point. Maybe it was a combination of all those reasons. Whatever the reason(s), I’m trying to reconcile that maybe your choice not to get help wasn't really a choice. I know you were in a lot of pain and I can’t be angry with you for that. My heart broke for you while you were alive and suffering and it breaks now that you’re gone ultimately because of your suffering.

I am at peace knowing I was always down for you and loyal to you, even when we weren’t together. You were the only man for me even after we split up. Even though I had to end the relationship, I kept my promise to be there for you and I never stopped loving you. I am coming to terms with the fact that I did what I could. Trying harder to convince you to go to rehab, see a therapist, make an appointment with your family doctor, or engage in other forms of self-care wouldn’t have changed anything. It was ultimately up to you.

Don’t worry; my love for you is steadfast and remains the same. I will always love you, and you will always have a place in my heart and life. But my life isn’t over yet and remaining tethered to my grief for the rest of my life is not indicative of my love and loyalty for you. So I must move forward to make the most of the incredibly precious and finite time I’ve been given. And perhaps my heart might be strong enough to some day let someone else in again. Perhaps one day I will have the courage to love another once more.

My darling Bo, our love is timeless. I can still feel you, residing somewhere deep within me. And you will remain with me as I continue my journey on this side. When my time on Earth is through, I promise I’ll meet you there, on the other side and we’ll be together again. So don’t worry, my love; this isn’t goodbye. I’ll never say goodbye. It’s just ‘Until we meet again.’

Eternally Yours,

Your Sweetheart