Good old Facebook—if you use the basic settings, Facebook will remind you of everything that happened on a certain date in a certain year. Most of the time, they’re not things that you always want to remember.

There was a one-year series of about five or six shows on the Peacock network called *Swedish Death Cleaning.* While the title would suggest cleaning after someone’s death, it’s actually about cleaning your home so the people left when you die have a minimal amount of cleaning to do. One of the shows did actually have someone who had terminal cancer and died shortly after the show was shot. There is also a book by a similar name. Basically, it says: pare down the things you don’t need or use.

After he killed himself, I had a very difficult time, because I had a ton of things that were his that I had no interest in or desire to keep. There was a lot of memorabilia from his high school and early college days—before I knew him. So I sent those to his parents, because they would know the people in the pictures and they would have the opportunity to really enjoy that memorabilia. If I had kept it, it would have either been in a box somewhere or honestly tossed out. I know that sounds cold, but some of that was never part of my life and it made little sense to keep something like that around.

I’m not going to lie—as I was perusing through Facebook, I saw that about this time 2 years ago I had just finished up a very significant amount of cleaning in what was once our home.

Nothing I did was wrong, but I felt, as I’ve mentioned many times before, that I was not grieving properly. I think what a lot of folks are taught—and my folks were no exception—is not to speak ill of the dead. If you don’t believe childhood lessons follow you into adulthood, may I present exhibit one.

The first two months were literally spent mucking out the house. There were tons of things of his that had no place in my new life and had no place with anybody else. If it was serviceable and could be used by others, it was donated. A good amount of his clothing was donated to the VA clothing locker, which supplies clothing to homeless vets in need. I was fairly lucky—he had some dress slacks and dress shirts that could help a vet seeking a job who didn’t have business attire. Additionally, I had provided him with some of my quote-unquote fat clothes from before the surgery, so I was also able to donate some of my own stuff to the clothing locker as well. Having worked on the homeless team at the VA, it really struck a chord to give these to a veteran.

This also aligns with the Swedish death cleaning idea: it’s better to upcycle, sell, or donate things that no longer have a use—and that’s what I did. I have a friend whose daughter does soaping, and I was able to give away a good bunch of his soap-making supplies to her. All said, a lot of good came out of that situation, even in a bad situation.

This part of change has probably been the toughest. I always have mixed emotions about my marriage and how things played out. I know there were a lot of other forces at work that I had absolutely no control over. Sometimes, when I’m sitting and doing nothing—which, by the way, I try to do a lot more of these days—those thoughts still pop into my head.

I’ve had to look at it like this: I had a friend a few years ago who was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had the lumpectomy and a round of chemo but absolutely refused the radiation. When tumors started showing up on her bones, her response was, “I’m going to take a trip to Europe.” Sometimes, people just make the decisions they want because that’s where they are in life. I have to respect that and realize that I don’t have control over everything—which is sad, because I still want control over everything.

As was habit, I was writing a lot of letters initially—and you’ve read one that I republished. I think this one might put what was going on in better perspective.

Been 2 years since I wrote this. This one is pretty raw on emotion. Please understand that more about the situation will come out as I continue to come to terms with the whole picture. Be clear—I did not despise him. I despised the illness that he refused to address or treat. Treating mental health is just as important as treating hypertension or, hell, cancer. I despised the rampant substance use (which, after my own, I realized the kind of person it made me) that he would not accept help with and that he drove away long-time friends who dared speak about it.

Dear Jacob,

We are rapidly approaching the 2-month mark (now a little over 2 years). I am still unraveling your life. You left so many things I knew nothing about, like some personal financial decisions that I am still just finding out about. How truly insane your finances spiraled out of control. Thankfully, I am not responsible for debts you incurred. Oh well, I will continue to deal with it.

I do find myself wondering, which is something I am told I will continue to deal with. And yet at the same time, I know there is nothing I can do now or could have done then that would have changed the outcome. Frankly, I had no idea—and it’s not from the fact that I didn’t care about you. I did care about you, despite what I was accused of in the months before—and my love, you accused a lot.

The day of the 2-month mark, I will be at the Gorge Amphitheater for the AGBT Weekender, which they started the year after AGBT 250 because they loved the space so much. It will be strange to see them without you since we saw them together like 6 or 7 times. The only act we saw more was Paul van Dyk, who we saw like 12 times together, I think. Pax will join me as he has seen this group multiple times as well—a lot like Ranger did.

I still harbor a lot of anger about some of the comments you made in the months leading up to your death. While none of them alluded to your plan, it was pretty obvious that other “forces” (read: substance use) had replaced me in your life. I am still living with this and have, for the most part, accepted it as part of the equation. Your depression was bad, and any help was shunned—which is hard for me, and you knew that. I gave up wishing for better circumstances, because again, nothing I can or could have done can change the events. Same with the substance use. Jeff Jones is mad because I said very little about it and made my grief “all about me”—toxic as fuck. Not a worry—very much blocked now.

Still hope you found peace, as it seemed the one thing you had been without since the start of the pandemic. That was defining in how the next 3 years of your life would play out.

All my best,

The same Leigh that tried his best to stay with you many years after it was practical.

I’ll be honest—I was very hopeful that the eight weeks had done me enough good that I wouldn’t have any real problems. I know that was foolish, and while I had the toolbox, I didn’t know how to use it.

Always have your toolbox ready. And love your dog and your mom—because they don’t stick around forever.