I can’t believe it’s been 11 days already. And I haven’t “blogged” rjk5000 style in probably 11 years. But right now—in these circumstances—writing is what feels best.
Eddie died 11 days ago. And that is the first time I’ve said “died.” I’ve been using the euphemism “passed away” to break the sad news to people. But you are not people. You are me.
It’s been difficult. Tough and weird and surreal and dizzying and sad. But also beautiful. Half of all my crying isn’t because I’m sad; it’s because I’m overwhelmed by love. Love from everyone who loved Eddie—all the people Eddie loved. Love from people who didn’t know him, but could tell he was something special. Love from friends I hadn’t heard from in years, coworkers, friends’ parents, distant family members, and neighbors. It is truly a beautiful thing when you’ve loved a person and they’ve loved you and all the things and people around you have been touched by that in some way. And then it becomes known. And then you cry.
I bought a neon light that glows up 11:11. I’m planning to display it somewhere at the memorial service. I remember I saw a neon light display at someone else’s funeral (not gonna say who) and I thought it looked real cool. So I copied. This is going to be a cool funeral with a cool tribute video and cool live music and cool tacos afterwards. Also a cool cover image of Eddie on the funeral program (an AI portrait). Everything’s cool.
11:11 is a magical number. Time. It is the time that he and I shared hundreds of kisses. It is the time that I made hundreds of wishes that all came true. And it is the time of his documented death on his death certificate. It’s a portal—I have proof but I can’t reveal it. But semi-proof is the 11:11 tattoos that a few of us will be getting. And then ascending consciousness.
I love Eddie’s friends. He brought them into my life and they are the ones who make me cry from loving. I wouldn’t be able to make it through these days without Queen Bea, Go CJ, Lentil, Tazcat, and Momo. And of course you. But you are me.