You Left Too Soon

The end of 2024 was not what I expected. 

I lost my friend, my co-parent, the man I couldn't be married to, the man I couldn't live with, but the man I still relied on, on Sunday, November 17. 

He celebrated his 54th birthday on Saturday, November 16, went home around 2 a.m., went to bed, and didn't wake up the next morning. 

I couldn't write anything about it at first. I didn't post anything to social media until two days after he passed. On the first Wednesday after he died I didn't have anything written for my writing group, so I wrote something about him. I think I summed it all up in that piece, down below. 

I started writing this blog post at the end of 2024 and never finished it. Now here we are mid-March of 2025 and my daughter asked me if I ever wrote a blog about him. 

I think about all the blogs I've written over the years. When I started this blog in November of 2004 Seth was six months old and I talked about Rey and being married to him a lot. I talked about the challenges of being the parents of young children and having to juggle all that we had to do. 

Later I blogged about my upcoming divorce in 2011 and about the challenges of being a single mother. We had our ups and downs, but we found a way to work around the tough times. In the end, we were great co-parents and we raised good people. 

This is not how I thought 2024 would end or the blog I would be writing. I really didn't. So instead I wrote nothing. 

I mourn that loss. I'm still mourning my children's loss and pain, but I also mourn with my own pain. He may have been a very difficult person with many imperfections, but he was still my co-parent, my partner, and the person I called first. 

We had a very private viewing for only immediate family at the end of November. Then we had a celebration of his life the first weekend of January. The mariachis ended their set with "El Rey" and we all took a tequila shot in his honor. We also invited the guests to sing their favorite karaoke songs, because that's what he loved doing.

The children each said a few words about him, as did his partner Leisa, his grandson, his best friend, my best friend's son, and me. 

When I spoke, I shared the piece that I had written for my writing group a few days after he died.

You Left Too Soon

I loved you. I hated you. I had all the feelings in between. All the time…

You were my husband , my lover, my friend, you were the father of my children. You gave me the best parts of you to make them and I grew them in my body. You were a part of my body too, your DNA mixed with mine to make them.

They say that when a baby is growing inside a mother, the cells travel to the heart. Their cells had your cells too. So if that’s the case, then parts of you traveled there and I’ll carry you in my heart forever…

At this point, at the age of fifty-four, we had known each other more than half our lives and you were such a big part of mine. You took up so much space and I was constantly trying to fight it.

We couldn’t work out as a married couple, but we chose to be good parents. I knew this came with a cost and I was willing to make that sacrifice for our children. I knew that meant having you inserted into every aspect of our life and I allowed it. Even when it was too much. When you were too much. 

I let it happen because I worried about you. I worried about how fragile you could be and I think I was one of the few people who knew that.

I chose to look at the good parts of you. The parts I loved and what made us better parents together and the parts that made us good friends. I know that was hard for others to understand. 

We loved our children and were so proud of them.

We still loved all the same music.

We still liked a lot of the same shows.

We still laughed together.

We still knew one another better than anyone else. 

We still carried regrets.

We still knew how to say “I’m sorry” and you were still saying that to me.

I accept your apology. 

Now that your life was cut short, I don’t regret anything at all. I understand that you were always meant to be a part of me.