His name was Frank. April 23rd, 2019 was our 3 year anniversary. April 25th, 2019 he died. We met 3 years ago on a dating app. But we had actually gone to high school together. We later found out that we had even more strange and funny connections. My grandma was his preschool teacher, his mom was my bus driver in high school. My mom's middle name is his mom's first name and my dad's middle name is his dad's first name. So many others that I continue to find even after his passing. When we were in high school, both of his parents were diagnosed with separate severe health problems. Being the man he was, he dropped out of school to get a job and take care of his parents. He was a heavy drinker for many years. He would start to sober up and then something would knock him back down. His first uncle passed, which we were prepared for as he had been sick for a number of years but still hit hard. Then a cousin of his overdosed. Yet again, a bit of a shock but kind of expected. His cousin had been into drugs for years and had overdosed several times already but had was always brought back. The death that he never recovered from was his second Uncle. That uncle was his second dad. That uncle was his dad's brother. When that uncle died, Frank never bounced back. He stopped going into his landscaping job he was working with (yet another) an uncle, started drinking heavily again and was charged with taking care of his dad and cousins who moved right in after his uncle died. While working, he came down with pneumonia. He took the meds until he started to feel better and then stopped. That was the beginning of the end of Frank. He had fractured a rib from coughing so hard, but that didn't matter. Drinking numbed it. He had chrons, diverticulitis, and diverticulosis. Drinking "took care of it all". For the last month of his life, he stopped voiding anything but urine. The last thing he told me was that he promised he would be at the hospital within the hour. 2 days later at 5 am, I got a call from his cousin telling me "Franks gone." Those 3 years were full of some of the absolute best times in my life but also some of the worst. Watching someone I love more than myself kill themselves and believing their promise of them not dying...I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. When I spoke at his funeral, I introduced myself as his fiancee. He gave me a ring on Christmas Eve last year and told me that a piece of paper couldn't possibly mean that much and that I was his wife. He would introduce me to people as his wife, look at me, laugh and say "Well, I mean, she's as good as. We're not officially married yet but we might as well be!" I tried so hard. I tried so hard to get him to go into the ER. But he was so scared. He was terrified of doctors. I want him back so I can tell him how angry I am that he would always drop everything to take care of me but if I did the same, he wouldn't accept it. He wouldn't listen. Through it all though, he was my best friend. My puzzle piece. My son's bonus dad. Thank you for reading.