I would rather share here because this is where I know I can share my stories about Jeremy, and I know I won't hear, "Aw, you just need to get over it". Let me tell y'all, I have heard that mess from the first week after the accident that took my soulmate from this world, and that's the most annoying, cruel, hateful thing anyone could ever say to someone grieving. Especially, if the other person hasn't ever lost someone they spent the majority of their life with. I just want to tell those annoying idiots, "Hey, if you have never walked in my shoes (and I can testify to the fact that you have never walked in my shoes), do those of us who have lost our significant others a favor and Z-I-P ZIP your lips closed. Quite frankly, you shouldn't even have felt like you had a right to chime in from the beginning". However, I didn't need to make anyone mad at me because I was homeless at that point, and if I had made someone mad enough...well, I'm not going to finish that sentence.
One of the craziest things to happen to me in the last 2 years was when I got inundated with memories from my childhood, and shortly thereafter, the events of my relationship with Jeremy started flooding my mind. Still, I would never trade anything to bring him back not even for 2 seconds. Let alone 5 minutes or for the rest of my life. I could not live with myself knowing that my husband was out of physical pain, but I was so greedy that I did what I had to get him back. No way, Josè. Not today. Not tomorrow. See? The thing is, when Jeremy was 14, he got into a fight with this kid (around the same age), and Jeremy beat him up. Well, this kid didn't like the fact that he got beat up; and went back to his people, got them all riled up, and 15 people set out looking for Jeremy.
Jeremy was in a car with 3 of his friends, talking about what happened when Jeremy saw the kid and his "crew". All the youngsters in the car with Jeremy agreed to get out with him to confront the other kid, again. (Y'all have to understand, Jeremy was 14, and back then, he loved to fight.) Unfortunately, when Jeremy got out of the car,the driver stepped on the gas, and left him alone to face 15 people with poles and boards and other objects. In the end, Jeremy was overcome, and the 15 of those guys beat him up one side and down the other.
Jeremy said that when he came to, he walked 4.5 miles to the nearest hospital, and checked in under the name of the kid he originally had a problem with. The doctor told him that if he hadn't been a big boy (286 pounds), he would have bled to death before he got to help.
The absolute end result was: the surgeon had to reconstruct his face with plastic and wire. Along with the fact that he permanently had 3 herniated and 2 perforated discs in the same place in his back.
I couldn't tell y'all how many times from March 2003 to June 2011, I had to catch Jeremy and keep him from hitting the ground because the discs in his back would slip out of place. When that happened, he wasn't walking for 3 days. In June 2011, the last time his back went out, I almost wound up in the hospital myself. When I caught Jeremy that day, we were just starting down the hallway in our little bitty one room office trailer the owner converted into a place for the single man. The hallway was just barely wide enough to allow Jeremy to get down the it without running into both walls at the same time. When I saw his knees buckle, I was approximately 5 feet away, but I dashed across the kitchenette, and I caught him before he hit the floor of the trailer. Problem was, when he was trying to help me get him 10 feet down the hallway to our bed, his legs wouldn't even hold the smallest amount of weight, and he fell sideways. When he did, I still had my forearms under his shoulders from behind, and we landed on a window. In a split instant, I saw myself getting hurt from the window breaking, so without another thought, I yanked my arm from between Jeremy's upper body and the window. When I did the blinds were metal and they caused enough of a mark that I still have 2 scars on my left arm, but the injury was not actively bleeding.
Yes, I had a large husband. When I first met him (I was 20, he was 14), he weighed 286 pounds; when we got together, he'd lost down to 190, but he was still broad. And he had a thick layer of (what I call insulation) fat that covered the muscular structure of his chest; when he passed away, Jeremy was 285 pounds. I used to call him my mini fridge..lol. I was only 108 when he passed, but I had 4 teeth that were preventing me from eating, and I lost from 127 to 108 at 40 years old.