Widow's Voice

I need him to be here.

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The photo on this post is of Boris and my dad, Steve. It was taken less than a month before Boris died. My dad looks so different now. He is probably 50 pounds lighter now. At that time, my dad didn’t need a walker as he does now. He could be left alone for at least 2-3 hours. He could take a shower by himself. So much has changed. And Boris hasn’t been here to see it.

Lately, I have been sad and angry that Boris isn’t here for my dad’s declining health. I have mentioned this in a few posts, but my dad has Parkinson’s disease and dementia. The last several years have been more challenging with his declining cognition. In the last year, he has progressed so much that he now requires someone to be with him 24/7 and needs help with almost everything including showering and going to the bathroom. Because life happens in front of us in real-time without us pausing to take it in, it is difficult for me to take a step back from his progression and remember when everything began to change. But, I think his dementia was beginning to worsen significantly right around the time of Boris’s death. Now that I am one of his care partners along with my mom and sister and he requires so much help, his needs consume a lot of my life. I am constantly worried something will happen–usually I worry about him falling or hurting himself accidentally. For the last 18 months, I have been worried about COVID-19, of course. It seems weird but it also makes sense that this phase of my life makes me miss Boris. It might seem unrelated to people who haven’t lost their partner or to people who haven’t had to care for an aging parent, but not having my person here to support me is hard. My dad knew Boris almost as long as I did–he was the kid who made his teenage daughter late for curfew more than a few times and eventually he was like a son to him. Boris was around my family a lot–for every birthday and celebration. He even traveled with me, my sister, and my dad to NYC one year for a Parkinson’s fundraising walk. Boris should be here as I struggle with my grief over my dad’s declining cognition and overall health. He should be here to give me, my sister, and my mom respite while we go get a pedicure or see a movie. He should be here researching new Parkinson’s treatments or ways to ease my dad’s anxiety. My heart is breaking over my dad’s health. It sucks that I am 30 and my dad has Parkinson’s and dementia. It sucks that any future milestone or life event that I have, he may not be able to really participate in it the way a dad should be able to. And I want Boris here to comfort me in the suckiness of this. I want Boris here to support me. I need him here. And he isn’t here. And it isn’t fair.

About Victoria Helmly

My love story began in 2005 and though my love is no longer physically here with me, our story has not ended. I met Boris when we were 14, but it was not until our junior and senior year of high school that we became more than friends (he was my first kiss!). We went to the same college and although our relationship was a bit rocky through our early 20s, we made it through. He was my person. Our relationship grew stronger as we matured and learned about one another more as adults. I was certain that he was my forever. We talked about the future a lot and we knew we would get married, but we did not want to rush—he was still finishing graduate school and I was just starting my first full-time job. We did not realize how little time we had left together.

In the summer of 2017, Boris was hospitalized three times for active suicidal ideation. This was a heartbreaking, exhausting, and life-changing experience. After 10 months of therapy, medication, and support groups, Boris died by suicide on April 7, 2018. My life now has two parts: the one before April 7, 2018 and the one after. My very best friend, my person was now gone.

If you were to ask how I am doing now, 2.5 years later, I would say I am okay. I am living. My world continues to spin, and I continue to move forward. However, I still carry deep sorrow and loneliness. I have struggled with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Sometimes I still cannot believe that he is actually gone. I still feel him with me, and I know that I will never stop loving and missing him.

I am currently in school for my Ph.D. and live just outside of Atlanta with our cat, Kitty Cat (Boris is responsible for the creative name). I work as a graduate research assistant currently, but I worked for three years with our State Unit on Aging prior to going back to school. I love movies, my friends and family, long walks, and traveling.