The Other Side of Us

Everytime I write about Jason, I tell the story. I recap the happenings in my life, which in turn were his, and document the play by play of those last 48-72 hours we had him on this earth.

And it crushes me every single time.

If there’s anything I want the world to know about my friend Jason, it’s how he loved.

From the insides of his bones, the soul of his heart, the blood of his veins, the epitome of everything he was.

Jason was a beautiful, loving, loyal, empathetic, and understanding human.

Jason was the kind of human I wish I could be – the kind that lives their whole life with their heart.

To some, that may sound backwards, because of the overdose, because of his behaviors, and because of who he was perceived to be.

And that’s just it. Jason Anthony was not who he was perceived (by many) to be.

Jason and I had a lot in common. In the headspace we lived in at at the time, we were incredibly misunderstood. We were missing milestones or lacking relationships and/or the ability to make good decisions. But we weren't broken. We both needed help.

My last night with Jay wasn’t an easy one, we went to another meeting together, but he was high. He was nodding off in the passenger seat on the way there. He was nodding off while we talked about how much he loved his nephew, his sister, and his mom. He was distant when he talked about his friendships with the best friends he had for well over a decade. My heart was beating through my chest – I only had one dose of Narcan, if he needed more, I wasn’t going to be able to save him. But also, I didn’t care what happened between my house and St. Anthony’s Church in Fairfield, I was getting Jason to where he told me he felt comfortable, to where he felt safe, to where he could surrender.

I watched Jason collect another 24 hour chip, high.

I watched and I did not judge. Because no one should be judged, ever, for showing up to a meeting in any particular state. Who knows whether they’re going to hear something that sticks. I prayed, for the first time in a million years, that some energy from that 24 hour coin would enter his body and this wouldn’t be the end.

And then I lost him. I LOST HIM.

No more than 36 hours later, after failed attempts to get in touch with him, and getting stood up by him (not a date people, a meeting), he was gone. The phone call came through from what I refer to as the third to he and my husband’s best friends trio – but everybody took a turn at the third wheel. My ex was on top of a roof in town installing electricity, we had to get him down before we broke the news.

The remainder of the day was all consuming, and more painful than anything. Almost as if we were all on that roof with my ex-husband, as if we all fell down.

It was just less than a day before, I had warned them, “You call your best friend and you tell him how much you love him, he won’t be with us for much longer.” And then I stormed inside.

In our last heart to heart, Jay told me no matter what happened between my ex and I, we would always be what we were. The other person’s person. I was never going to judge him, and to my peace, he was never going to judge me.

I would forever get to hear his last words, "I love you little Mama."

I cannot use words to explain the loss of Jason. I cannot provide a visualization of the friend’s wedding we went to where I screamed and pleaded for someone to help him, because I wasn’t getting the job done. I cannot explain the guilt, the fear, the regret that is associated with everything about our relationship.

But I know one thing is for sure – Jay loved me, and I loved him. And we showed it by showing up, for each other. This was not a romantic relationship, not a friends with benefits situation, this was two people who really understood the other.

I resent Jay sometimes. I get really mad that he left me here to do this alone. And then I remember, we had promised to help each other, and since he’s no longer physically with us, it’s my role to help all the people he could have, AND all the people I can.

Everyday isn’t pretty. Everyday isn’t productive. Everyday doesn’t make me proud. But I can tell you, the effort is there, the gratitude for having another angel help me take care of the ones I love by establishing the importance of taking care of me … is tremendously important, that person saved a life.

Jay saved my life. And his presence in my soul, helps me stay motivated for my own mental health, as well as that of those around me.

People saved me. Showing up, taking time – it speaks volumes.

Just … Keep. Showing. Up.

We got this. And Jay?

He's got us.