I feel woefully inadequate. My wife (a term I will be using as frequently as possible due to the heart wrenching and dreamlike ceremony that was held over her bedside last night) Keira, was an absolutely amazing woman. She had a persona to the trans community of being a tireless advocate. But here’s the truth, she was exhausted. She burned the candle at both ends. Still, she never ignored a message from someone in our community and ALWAYS took the time to reach out and check in. I was reading through messages on her phone from friends, most of whom I share with her, and it truly amazed me how much she was able to touch others.
As her wife (I will never get sick of describing myself that way), I feel a deep responsibility to carry on her legacy. It’s not a burden though. It’s a gift. To lose a spouse, especially in such a sudden and shocking way, is enough to drive a person into a darkness that could be impossible to come out of. I have been crying. A lot. But losing Keira has actually pushed me more into the light. Since coming out and beginning transition, literally one year ago, I have always wanted to do everything that I can for our community. I know that I have been very fortunate to be able to keep my family, friends, and career, and to look more like my mom than my dad. (I love you Dad, but there was not a feminine feature on your face. My sister is very lucky to look like her mom too). Now that Keira is gone, and I have seen our community rally to her, I now see that I have the strength and ability to be a leader, an influencer, and most importantly, a friend and supporter to trans men and women who need me.
So many people have commented on my strength through this ordeal. I certainly don’t feel strong. Any strength that you see is actually the strength of our community, holding me up as I want to just collapse into a heap. Whether it was messages of love or encouragement on Facebook, deliveries of food and nourishment in the hospital, or physically being held up at times when I was breaking down (thankfully Miranda Jones is so strong, in so many ways) it was the support of my friends who have made me appear strong. Thank you for that.
So here I lay, in bed in an apartment 90 minutes from my home, the love of my life in a hospital bed just a few miles away. Potentially still clinging to life or potentially not. I woke up at 4:00 am and immediately was struck by the muse to write. Keira was the blogger. My writing style has always been poetic. Every time I have tried to blog in the past it just ended up being a long, nonsensical rant that I was never very proud of. But in this case, it’s different. I haven’t re-read a word of what I’ve been writing, but it feels to me like Keira is speaking through me. Like I’m writing in her voice and not my own.
So, perhaps I am not as inadequate as I felt earlier. Keira was always the final piece to my puzzle. My life was in tatters before we got together and it quickly became a dream to me once we made things official last June. While that dream now seems like it’s turned into a nightmare at times now with the turn of events, I know that I’m going to wake up from it, live with Keira in my heart, and be the uniting force that our community so desperately needs. I’m going to make Keira proud of me.
Sarah Grace Morin