On the 27th of December this year my partner took his own life. His name was Blaise, 35, and he was from a little town in Tuscany called Certaldo. He had lived in the UK for eight years as a maths university lecturer and I met him at the end of 2019 when I began my classics degree, I am now 44.
We had just moved in together when in March 2020, yep, we were now stuck together. When things eventually opened up again we both got back to uni and everything was great. Blaise also got the chance to work part time at the same university his father taught at in Milan, so for the last 7 months he was flying back and forth between the two, it was manic.
Blaise’s father at the age of 37 was diagnosed with Huntington’s disease, which is a neurological condition that affects cognitive, emotional and physical brain function similar to Parkinson’s disease except with HD, there is a 1/2 chance that it can be passed down to any children. He lived for 20 years with the disease before he died aged 57.
Blaise struggled in his mid teens after his father’s diagnosis, he was also struggling with accepting his sexuality I believe. He began drinking at this time which remained an issue for the rest of his life although we tried to not make it a big thing or he did anyway.
Then a few months before his death he had started to display possible early symptoms of the disease, he had developed a tick in his fingers and jaw but I don’t know if we will ever find out for sure. Then he began drinking again and was struggling with depression, far worse than in any time I had known him.
A little over a month ago he was offered the chance to work full time in Milan, we planned to move to Italy once I had finished my degree anyway, but this was an opportunity he had to take. We decided he should go and I would join him when I could.
He did two weeks notice here and then began working in Milan 4 days later, he had no idea where he was even going to live until the day before. It was all so mad and meant that we would be spending Christmas apart too.
His first two weeks were tough, we were arguing a lot on the phone, he hardly knew anyone and it all got too much for him. His mother had gone to be with him on the 23rd but he was a mess, every time we spoke it ended in a fight so we decided to not call each other for a few day.
On the day he died he did call me and it ended in an argument, I said a lot of things that I knew had hurt him. He went out and got drunk and then in the morning his mom found him. We believe he took an overdose of something, there is still an inquest into the cause of death, so we can’t be sure exactly what he took.
I flew out on the 29th, and after his body was released he was cremated and a quiet service in his home town for family and friends was held on the 3rd. I think I will stay here in Italy with his mother for a bit anyway. It has only been a few days but I just don’t know what to do, everything is in such a mess and I am so afraid for his mother.
I am sorry this has ended up being much longer than I thought it would be. I still don’t know why I have written it to be honest, I don’t know if I want advice, I don’t even know if I will end up posting it, I guess I hoped it would be cathartic or something, maybe it will be.
Thanks anyway.
Jonny
