Letters to Jason: I am Angry

Written October 13, 2025.

Today I feel angry.

Sad. Desperate to find a way to feel really close to you.

Feeling like refusing to accept that you are gone.

I’m angry of everything we didn’t get to do.

I’m angry that the entire future we planned and dreamed is gone.

I’m angry that your mom and dad planned an entire weekend over your birthday, without once considering me, your wife. The love of your life. That stabbed me in the heart like a knife. It still aches.

I’m angry that I will never get to watch you be a dad. Or be pregnant and be taken care of by you. Hold your hand as we watch an ultrasound of our baby.

I’m angry. Devastated. Broken. My body hurts. Anxiety races through me.

The further we get away from losing you the more I ache knowing you’re never coming back.

The longer our “lasts” are.

Everything. It’s slipping away and I’m so desperate trying to hold on, to feel you with me. I want you. I miss you.

All I ever think about is wanting you here. Not understanding why the literal best thing in my entire life had to be taken from me. Why when we both finally found love, happiness, joy and peace the world decided to kill you with horrible cancer.

Why did it have to be you? Why you? Stage 3 cancer, February of 2024. “Curable” they said.

Why god, why Jason.

Why so little time.

Why not more time.

Why lord.

I am angry. I miss you. I need you. I want you.