I have a friend, known as Jason to me, and Daarden to some others. I met him at USF in 1992 in one of my French Literature classes and we became instant friends. He went to sonograms with me while I was pregnant, cooked for me, made bread in his breadmaker for me, and we'd sit around playing Dr. Mario on his Nintendo for days. Literally.

Later on, Jason moved to Utah and then to San Francisco. I flew out to see him in September of 1999 with Gabrielle. He was a flight attendant with SouthWest, and we'd go out to dinner and hang out when he was on a stayover in Orlando.

Jason's mom had passed when I was pregnant with Madeleine. He had recently taken some time off of  work to care for his mom's mom, who was dying of cancer. He was her nurse, taking care of her 24 hours a day since before Christmas. I'd call him on weekends, just to see how he was doing and how Grandma was.

Jason called me on Feb. 5th to let me know his Grandma had finally passed from the cancer. The last two weeks she'd been in a coma-like state, and they'd feed her liquids. Her pain relief was in the form of Oxycontin, which they would give her when they felt she'd need it. I called him and spoke with him a few times after that, the most recent being around the 11th or 12th. He seemed in good spirit, telling me that he'd had Grandma cremated and he'd mixed her ashes with his mom's. He and his friend, Daren, were going to inter the ashes themselves. He detailed his renovation plans for Grandma's house, which he was making repairs to and would put on the market. He was going to take the proceeds from the sale to purchase a townhome for himself in San Francisco. He was going to take some time off for himself and return to work in August.

Daren knew that since Grandma's death, Jason had been taking some of her Oxycontin. Wednesday night, Feb. 13th, Jason said he was having some trouble sleeping and was going to take something. When Daren woke up, Jason was in bed and had passed away from an accidental overdose of the Oxycontin and his other prescription meds. Daren tried to revive him, and so did the paramedics. Jason didn't wake up.

I can't begin to relay how much Jason is missed.

My heart hurts so badly. I'll call his cellphone just to hear his voice on the message. Jason was my cheerleader, my confidante, my sounding board. I am so thankful that I got to meet him and that he was part of my life.