He didn’t suffer.’ I rolled my head to the side and stared at the wall, unable to speak. I wanted to die too. I wanted to be with Jonathan. Tears ...lowed down my cheek, while Mom continued to hold my hand and cry with me. —————– Slowly but surely I grew stronger each day, but my heart felt broken. I didn’t get to attend Jonathans funeral, so it still didn’t seem real to me. After extensive physical therapy on my left arm, that was shattered and pinned, I began to resume some function. Six months. At least he had been able to get a good night's sleep, after his late night 'exercise'. We shared a good round of teasing, and another cup of coffee together as the conversation slowly heated up. As I mentioned before, there had been a lot of talk between us about our 'sexual bucket lists,' and a lot of graphic wall art posted back and forth. It had been a great way to keep the steamy fun rolling along. Apparently, John had been keeping better track than we had as we ticked goals and images off. More

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