Letters to Jason: Make it Make Sense.

September 1, 2025:

And so a new month begins. Yesterday marked 14 days without you. And it still doesn’t feel real.

I finally have begun sleeping better but wake up feeling your void as soon as the morning sun hits the window. I have Nora next to me as I wake. She’s cuddled up tight against me. We are still staying at my parents, and I wonder if she really understands you’re gone. I know when we get back to our house she will look for you, probably for weeks. She will come in from going potty in the morning and peak her head around the corner to check if you are on the couch. Just as she did for the last 10 months. When you were sleeping she’d always come in quietly but when she saw you sitting there awake and she’d let out a howl so happy to see you. She will soon know, know the void that you’re gone.

Just like I feel it every day. Some days it hurts more than others, and it’s harder to press on.

None of it makes any sense. I replay timing, events, conversations in my head, wondering how we got to your passing so quickly from where we were at the end of June.

I wonder if you knew your body was failing and you were just protecting me. But then I remember you coming back from the biopsy mid June in happy tears because the doctor said the lymph nodes looked smaller.

And I wonder, I wonder why and how that could be.

Why your cancer stopped responding.

Why this had to be our story.

Begging for it to make sense, but I don’t think it will ever make sense.

Nothing makes sense, not without you by my side.

I am angry. Angry at the way certain people are pretending they cared. Wondering where they were in the 4 years I was with you. Because they certainly were not there for you so why are they pretending they were now? Are they writing their own story to justify their sorrow? Making up a picture in their head to avoid feeling like they were as absent as they really were. I find old texts from you saying as such. It makes me angry.

But some days I remember that probably isn’t what you want. But what do I know.

I feel like it’s on me to be the bigger person, the person who doesn’t react, doesn’t snap. All they could muster up was “thank you for taking care of Jason”. What an insult to the love I felt for you, as if you were a charity case to me, and not my husband, my dreams, and all my hopes for our perfect future.

I don’t understand. I never did and I never will.

The half hug from your father, after your funeral. His words “well, keep in touch”.

Empty and meaningless words. Just like all the empty words and promises from them before I lost you.

All I know, Jason, was that you deserved better. Better than all of this.

It makes me angry. Angry because this is about you, and I refuse to let it be spun into anything but.

Angry because without you the future for me looks so grim, so empty, so confusing.

I don’t even know where to start or what to do next.

I feel in limbo, like how do I even get back to my day to day life. I feel bothered just sitting here daily with no real objective or plan. But the thought of going back to our house and starting life again feels terrifying. It feels like it’s closing the door on what was. I know it’s not. But there’s so much more to do and logistics.

What do I do with your things. For now I leave them.

I’m scared.

I want you.

I miss you.

Life without you doesn’t feel real.

It feels wildly unfair that you were taken from me far too soon and far too quickly.