Grieving for Owen was like nothing Id ever experienced.
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I dont know how to tell this story.
I dont quite know what the story is.
Because I dont know when it starts.
Or how it ends.
Owen has been given hours.
His tumor didnt shrink enough where they could start the new treatment Monday.
Soon he will go into a coma and then he will pass away.
I kept saying No, no, no, no, no, no.Not my little Owen.
My little cousin Owen.I dont know how long I sat frozen on my bed making these guttural wailing sounds.
At some point I picked up my phone.
I was in California.
I was supposed to fly to Philadelphia the next day for a wedding.
Owen was supposed to beat brain cancer.
What part of his journey was he on at this particular moment?
I didnt know how.
Im a bit down, but we are having fun.
At the very end of the night, Ive had too many and my new agent comes over.
The guy over there with the mustache is handsome.
I almost say yes.
But then I say no.
Im very used to being single.
The majority of my male friends are gay.
The two men Im with at the table are gay.
He comes home with me.
The next morning Im a little more shy.
He is less shy.
Can I give you my number?
I hand him the pink-flamingo pen my psychiatrist gave me that week.
I find an old receipt, and he writes Jack and his phone number on the back.
Now I have to text him first in order for him to have my number.
I text him right after he leaves.
Our timing isnt great.
We both live in New York, but Im about to go to California for a month.
Hes going to Cuba for two weeks.
They dont have great internet.
Maybe the story starts March 2018.
This Saturday he doesnt text me.
Thats odd, but maybe hes just asleep.
The next morning he texts and says to call him.
His tone immediately scares me: I have some bad news about Owen.
Of all people this is not who I expect.
Owen is 28 years old and in great shape, and what could be wrong with Owen?
He was having migraines, and he took himself into the ER.
He got an MRI, and they found a tumor.
We cried together on the phone.
Brain cancer is a death sentence, right?
I went to see my cousins, Owen and Leda, at my uncle Ed and aunt Laurels apartment.
I had no idea what to expect.
Whats it like after you find out you have brain cancer?
Im nervous on the way there.
Owens had surgery to remove the tumor.
Will he be bald?
Will he look sick?
I am holding back tears in the elevator.
I immediately feel okay.
I hug Ed next, who is less confident than Owen.
Then Laurel, who is always Aunt Laurel determined and on some task or another.
This is the first time I see it as an armor.
Shes going to ensure that we have snacks on the table and that everybody has water.
She keeps the most beautiful home and always has its a magical skill to someone like me.
Owen flops on a chair.
Laurel is deaf in one ear, so hes always been used to talking loudly.
Im not sure what to talk about, but Owen leads the way.
Well Im the one who actually had brain cancer.
His doctors are great, he says.
Theyve got a plan.
Hes got a plan.
His only problem is boredom.
I hug him good-bye.
I think I needed it more than him.
Uncle Ed walks me outside.
Hes visibly upset and nervous.
I say, I think hes going to be okay.
And I really did.
I saw that kid up there.
And hes really special.
Does it start near the end?
Hes excited to be there, to watch womens soccer with me.
Jack is loving the game.
Jack says he thinks womens sporting events might be his new thing.
No loud, drunk guys.
We go out to eat and wait for traffic to die down before getting a Lyft home.
As the restaurant starts to fill up, I wonder if this is a bad idea.
The coronavirus is coming, isnt it?
Although, I wonder, what is that really?
I am more nervous than most people, so I shrug it off.
Its a thing I do.
I pick at things in every way.
Its nerves, its anxiety.
He says, I want you to feel like you’re free to hold my hand instead.
I dont tell him, but its one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.
We talk that night.
Like, the talk I havent had in six years.
Are we dating?I like you.
I knew hed have to be patient with me.
Hed have to let me grieve.
It would be easier not to even try during that process.
And I like thinking of it that way.
Jack calls me that Friday morning and says, I have a fever.
Jacks got the coronavirus.
So now you know how it could start.
Now its time I tell you (if you couldnt already tell) Im a bit lost.
So here are some more parts of the story, in some order.
Owen told me in August about a great new doctor he has, Dr. Henry Friedman.
Hes the head of neuro-oncology at Duke.
Hes leading the way in using polio therapy for GBM.
Thats the acronym for Owens brain cancer.
Im learning the language of cancer now.
Owen says Henry is the first doctor to bring up the wordcure.I love this doctor.
Owen starts polio treatments.
I have no idea what that means and what it means for his body.
Im not the only one.
Im in the middle of my two-week quarantine in my tiny apartment in New York.
Ive cried every day.
Im scared about Jack.
He has had a bad fever for a week.
He didnt answer his phone yesterday.
I text a doctor friend who suggests a police welfare check.I have had anxiety and depression since high school.
Ive gone to years of therapy.
I take Xanax when needed.
This is a really bad time for mental health.
Today I decide the anxiety is worse.
Id rather be depressed.
I get really low.
I wake up Friday and I turn my phone on airplane mode and I start drinking.
I think its going to fall apart with Jack now.
Im upset with him for not understanding why I constantly need to know hes okay.
Im upset with myself for needing to constantly know hes okay.
Im upset with friends talking about missing their fucking birthdays.
What if Jack dies?
What if I die?
Owen just d. I cant say it or write it.
Im so low and Im so afraid.
Im afraid of the water coming out of my pipes.
Im afraid of outside.
And I am so alone.
Ive never felt so alone.
I ask Owen out loud to kindly help Jack.
I immediately feel bad for asking.
I just feel bad.
The next morning Leda texts me that shes upstate.
She says shes heard a lot of birdsong, so we are in good hands.
Thank you, Leda.
Thank you, Owen.
I send Jack the video of Owens beautiful service.
I talked about his love for birds.
The boy who loved birds flew away.
Jack tells me he went to high school with one of Owens friends, Nate.
Nates coming from Antarctica.
Can you believe it?
We ate dinner, and I tried to make them laugh a little.
I think Owen would want that.
I know he would want that.
Jacks roommate sends me a video after Jacks chest X-ray and doctor visit.
Jack is in a mask and gloves.
Hes out of breath.
He says the X-ray looks good.
I rewatch this video in my quarantine.
It makes me laugh a little.
It makes me cry.
Leda tells a story at Owens service.
I had this thought, too.
But I knew he wouldnt be scared.
Instead he thanked her for trying her best.
And for all shed done for him.
So I dont know what this story is.
The world is upside down.
Im holding devastation and love in equal measures.
What is bad timing when the timeline seems irrelevant?
Would you even know?
Im at the Knicks game.
Im with Owen and Leda and Michael Che.
The photographer gets photos of us crazy cheering.
Leda is doing the same.
I dont remember if they win or lose.
We go out afterward and get a drink at an Irish bar.
We laugh at Michael Che ordering bangers and mash.
Owen orders a beer.
Its a normal night.
I like seeing him like this.
It makes me think hes gonna be okay.
I know hes gonna be okay.
Its the last night I will see Owen.
But I dont want to end that way.
I dont like that ending for any story.
He taught me about love during his life and hes teaching me about love after.
And Im really lucky.
