On July 12, I lost my best friend and husband. Wil and I met in 2005 at art school. I remember the interests we shared and instantly connected over, like art and films and the outdoors. His goofy personality, sense of style and offbeat and often inappropriate sense of humor was perfectly compatible with my own.
Throughout our relationship, Wil and I were our own little team and did almost everything together. As creative partners in crime, we would embark on our silly adventures, often using covert operations and stealth to achieve our sneaky goals, like stealing abandoned kites from trees in the middle of the night. We would constantly make each other laugh at things I think that only we thought hilarious. For instance at parties, he would subtly whisper "skittlessss!" in my ear, and I would whisper back "taste the rainbow". When we were at home, it was almost like we were connected by a tiny umbilical cord. We couldn't stay apart in separate rooms for too long and would be naturally drawn to where the other was. We would have impromptu dance parties in our living room – Wil was an excellent dancer with some smooth moves.
There were so many quirks and kinks and surprises that just made this man wonderful. He was the expert drummer and beatboxer; a curious explorer and dreamer; a lazy hunter; a perfectionist in his work and style; a complete flirt; and a cuddly lover (even though he always denied it). We were like two peas in a pod, and supportive of each other?rsquo;s often wild ideas. Last Christmas, after finishing up with family obligations, we decided on a whim to drive to my brothers’ home in DC and surprise him for New Years. We believed this spontaneity was crucial to achieve our shared goal: to have as much fun as possible.
All of those Saturday and Sunday mornings I would wake up and start my day. I would try and wait as long as I could to wake him up. He always said I couldn’t wake him up before 9am. I’d be so excited that it’s a weekend and we could spend the whole day together that it was hard to wait. So many times at 8:50 I would crawl back into bed to cuddle and wait in anticipation. He would say I’m like a puppy in the morning so excited to for the day, excited to play.
Wil’s creativity shined through every aspect of his life: his work, his style, and his music, art and movies. His ability to envision the possibilities was unmatched. He once repurposed our old filing cabinet into a coffee table. He always carried his camera around for capturing unique moments of life. His eye for the absurd, the abnormal, and the quirky - which he could transform into something truly beautiful - is what made him such a brilliant artist.
More recently, among our plans to change the world, we were learning Spanish. We had always talked about visiting Guatemala, Wil’s birthplace. This was part of a greater quest searching for the meaning of being an adult.
While I cannot believe that he is gone – I am still in shock and hurting – I am comforted by the rich tapestry of memories that we formed over our 8 years together. Still, my world has stopped. Hopefully one day I will find my way again back into his arms.