•Video Content Warning: death, grief, cancer, hospitals, self-hatred, sex , Auschwitz , Phil’s voice •

1.28.2021

•Dear Phil,

Wyoming is the last place I wanted to be today. Which is probably why I’m here. To be honest, being here is close to reliving a personal hell. If I was in New York today, I would know what to do. I’d book a session with my therapist. I’d throw a dance party in the middle of a crowded street. I’d drink a million cappuccinos. I’d walk to Times Square and take a picture in front of the what used to be the Swatch Store on the Southeast corner of 45th and Broadway because that’s where we first met. And then I’d cross the street to the “new” Swatch store, and buy a new Swatch watch. Even though I’ve never worn a watch until after you died. And now I have one Swatch for every year without you. Seven damn Swatches. Just tracking time. And tracking the moments. This year, I had to order online... because pandemic. On the band it is written in multicolored block letters “This Moment Is Magic.” And somewhere I have written in a letter to you “My moments with you are gold.” Even though that’s only about 80% true because we clawed through about 20% or more of hell together... probably more. If I was in New York, I would hope that I’d be in rehearsal or in a show at the Met, because that’s one of the places I feel closest to you. Surrounded by peeps who know and love you and in a place where you stood o stage and walked through that labyrinth of an institution. Today, if I was in New York, I’d also hope that I’d be in class at MCS Theatre because that’s one of the safest places where I’ve been able to let out my array of emotions without shame or guilt or fear of being judged. Today, I still got to be there... if only on Zoom. If I weren’t here, I’d go for tea and scones at Alice’s Tea Cup and maybe grab a falafel drenched in hot sauce. I might order an entire platter of grilled fish at Medi and probably not finish it and eat ten gazillion orders of goat cheese stuffed, bacon-wrapped dates. Or I might walk along the Jersey City waterfront and remind myself that even those sometimes this grief STILL stops my in my tracks like I’ve been punched in the stomach, I would look at the New York skyline and be reminded of why I’m here. And if were to predict another today in New York, I’d imagine that today there wouldn’t be a cloud in the sky; a Phil Day. Because ever day that we walked anywhere together for the first year, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Today in Wyoming it’s cloudy and storming in the mountains. If I could be almost anywhere else than where I am, I would be. At the very least I wouldn’t have chosen to be here. I wouldn’t have chosen to be in the exact place I have avoided being on the 28th of January for the last seven years because seven years ago, I woke up and stared at my clock, not knowing why, at the exact moment(that your brother tells me later) that you died. I wouldn’t have chosen to be here... in this expanse. Not knowing what to do. To be fair... I never know what to do.

So, today I went out in the expanse with you(a small percentage of your ashes) and read a monologue that I wrote two years ago for my first class assignment at MCS. The entirety of the content resonates my truth, still. Even though so much, SO MUCH I wish it didn’t. No matter how much I work at relieving the guilt or self/hatred or the battle of my truth vs reality vs the truth of the reality of whoever is watching. It’s all shifted to co-existing with how deeply I have had to re-learn to love myself even in the darkness and depths. There is more that could have been added and more that has evolved. But, today I just wanted to document exactly what I wrote two years ago. To sit with it. To be with the pain that I’m not at peace with, but to respect it... as information to create movement from within the pain. Because it’s still true. But, to metabolize the pain as best I can to propel me forward in this life. You were my personal cruelest wake-up call, so far, that I only get to do this living thing once. So, this is my first and only take. I always pray that no one gives advice when I share the darkness...especially the darkness that no one asked to hear in the first place...

The greatest gift is to just be seen for the truth that it all is. For the evolution of it all. • My pain isn’t exclusive. And sometimes I wish it wouldn’t show up like this still... but mostly for the people who aren’t me who witness the pain and don’t know what to do. For me, this is just information that helps me measure the unmeasurable love. • I still love you, Philip Willingham • Cheers to the complexities of it all. •

1.28.19

•Time isn’t anything other than what’s happened. So much is the same. Some is different. Go back and read the past to note the differences. Or read this with new eyes and a new heart. Witness what’s still the same or how we are different. ||| TW: Death, care taking, sex ||| He asked “Where do you want to be five years from now?”

“Happy and with you,” I said.

•Most every day I had moved through these days, wishing I was dead. Praying that I would disappear.• To you, if you read past this colon :

Today, you don’t need to comfort me or try to solve this for me. You don’t need to dispense advice or build me up.

This is the place to put my heart for a bit. You can put yours here too. |||

To Phil:

You’re the reason I’m still here.

And the reason why I’m halfway gone.

You’re the reason why I’m angry a lot of the time. You’re the reason I stopped caring about most things and why started caring more about intentional things with more specificity.

You’re the reason my brain feels like it’s going to split open and why my heart is screaming. You’re the reason I leave my body. You’re the reason I’m afraid to give back rubs to people I love because I’m afraid of feeling/finding lumps on someone that I wish were just knots. You’re the reason that spring smells like returning to your arms. Most of the time, you’re the reason I can’t breathe, because the loving you still takes my breath away. You’re the reason my body goes numb walking down the street because, even 6 years later, I think I’m coming home to you. Even though we don’t live there any more and even though my logical brain knows you’re dead. You’re the reason why it took 3 years for anyone, (including my parents)to touch me again, even just giving hugs. You’re why it still shocks my system to be touched.

You’re the reason why it hurts to be held romantically by anyone else and why having sex with another person triggers what it was like to have sex with a person who is dying; to become one with a living skeleton who didn’t know why their body was failing them. And then, what it was like to have that act of love become an act of the weakest rage and violent fury.

You’re the reason why I hate when people tell me to be positive. Because that mask of positivity is just a mask. And it doesn’t help if we can’t be honest about the entire spectrum of any experience. Your love notes are why I know I’m not making this up. And why my rage response letters solidify that truth.

You’re the reason why I do and why I don’t think the Law is Attraction is bullshit.

Because, if it is, then I’m part of the reason you died. If it’s not, then there are other cosmic factors at play, that I don’t know how to explain and anyone who claims to know how is someone I don’t trust.

You’re part of the reason I took a chance on falling in love with another man and part of the reason why I continued to show up for so long. You’re also why I’m too tired to fall in love again. And too tired to listen when I’m told by the masses not to give up on love. Because you’re why I’ve learned that I was right all along that partnership isn’t the ultimate human experience. But, it is the damn richness of the universe when it happens for real.

You’re the reason I miss what it was like to kiss someone. But, you’re the only person whose kisses were like drinking the coolest glasses of water in the hottest days.

You’re the reason for my tenacity. You’re why I put leafy spurge in my flower bouquets. You’re the reason why people ask why I’m so difficult. You’re part of the reason why I’ve projected myself into a life where I refuse to stop growing. You’re the reason why my heart screams. You’re the reason why I love hedgehogs. You’re the reason why I love T. Rex, Mika, Bowie, Queen, the Wurzels and the Sex Pistols. You’re why I overshare.

You’re why I have deeper friendships.

You’re why I have no fear of failure.

You’re why I know what being in love is actually like. You’re the reason why I still sometimes hate myself for being alive so much of the time. You’re also part of the reason why I love what it feels like to be in this body. You are also why I hate it. You are some of my best writing.

You’re why I throw dance parties.

And why I am always drinking so many cappuccinos.

You’re why I eat ice cream twice a year.

You’re why I’ve been been able to work at one

of the most beautiful places in the world.

You’re why I’m in love with stardust.

You’re part of why I keep traveling in hopes that I’ll find you someplace else than where I’m at.

You’re why I don’t believe that time heals.

You are why I do believe that time makes you forget/adapt, whether you want to or not.

You’re why I don’t fuck around with people when it comes to seeking healthcare and self care. You’re why I know that Self Care Is a Political Act. You’re why I hate the 28th of every month except for June. You’re why my heart soars when there isn’t a cloud in the sky. You’re who I see when I look into the spotlight on every stage. You’re part of hitting such deep darkness that gave me the courage to crawl out and find light. You were part of the spiraling conduit grit that it took to crawl down the street with dirt under my nails and blood in my hair to my first moments of an acting class that gives me a place to put my darkness, find the light and discover the rich sparkles of humanity in between that sometimes I’m afraid I’ve lost.

You’re who my favorite sweater stills smells like... even still, because it’s yours.

You’re who everyone thinks they’re talking to on my behalf in their dreams.

You’re who got me into this weird club of people who aren’t afraid to talk about traditionally uncomfortable things.

You’re who pushed me beyond.

You made my world bigger.

You’re why I started creating and updating my will and my funeral plans at 24. You’re also why I won’t have a funeral or a celebration of life.... because if my people don’t know to throw my Life Party Dance Party that lasts all night under the mountain stars and includes screaming, singing, snacks, every form of reckless abandonment and lots of therapy dogs ending in the mixing of ashes together being thrown in the river... I don’t know what the point of all of this is.

You’re why I shut down almost completely from November 9th-January 28th.

You’re why I had to learn in a hard way that I don’t sleep well without holding onto your hand but no one else’s hand works either.... so I sleep holding my own.

You’re why I get stopped at airport security because I always have travel with what ashes of yours that I was given and what I have left...

You’re why I chose to hold people around me to higher standards and why I appreciate the same being done for/to me. You’re why my body aches. You feed my trauma addiction.

You’re why I think everyone needs a therapist, always, not just when they are feeling poorly... but mostly when they’re feeling good so there is documented perspective for when things get rough. You’re why had to learn what EMDR was first hand and how it helped me save my own life. Then, from that the lives of people around me.... friends and strangers. You’re why I’ve almost died. You’re how I’ve learned that when my parents die, my people had better come find my quick because there will be nothing left that I’ll want to live for.

•Those who were here before me were right: It doesn’t get easier. It just becomes different. •You’re my reason for so much. You’re more than all of this. You’re my love. You’re my guy. And I never want you to be my excuse. •I love you. I love you. I love you. I still don’t know where to put my heart. You confuse me. • 6 years isn’t that long. But, it feels like forever lasting in a lightening strike. And I’m forgiving myself for how my memories fade; how naturally our memories disappear because that’s what they call “healing”. I was the keeper and I’ve lost so many of them. Time isn’t anything other than what’s happened. • So. Every year on the day you left, I will go to that Swatch store(that is now a McDonalds so I’ll cross Times Square to the new Swatch store). I will take a picture at the spot we first met. Then, I’ll go into the store and buy some time. I’ll buy some time that I wish we had... just so we could know each other in who we might be now. Maybe we would still be together. Maybe we wouldn’t. But, I think I’ve been able to give more to this world because you left it. For that alone... you continue to make the world better place. It’s taken years to be able to say that. But, my love, the lives you’ve helped save beyond your time on this planet, I promise it was all worth it. It continues to be worth it. Your living was always worth it. Your death was worth it too. As long as I’ve got the time, I’m making it worth it. • newest addition is inspired by “La Liberté guidant le peuple by Eugéne Delecroix, July 28, 1890 •

•Nothing is more creative than death, since it has the whole secret of life. It means that the past must be abandoned, that the unknown cannot be avoided, that 'I' cannot continue, and that nothing can be ultimately fixed. When a man knows this, he lives for the first time in his life. By holding his breath, he loses it. By letting go he finds it.• Alan Watts

||| I love you. I miss you. And everything in between.|||

||| "Unable to perceive the shape of You, I find You all around me. Your presence fills my eyes with Your love, It humbles my heart, For You are everywhere.”||| 11.9.76•1.28.2014 |||

1.28.15

50 years ago today Phil's parents started courting each other. They always kept this anniversary in preference to others and Ed would celebrate by giving Barb a single red rose. ||| This is her first year without him to give one to her. This is the second year without her son by my side to tell me that story. ||| Wandering through this day in a personal dark haze, I carried one red rose with me as a reminder. A reminder that I do not hold the monopoly on sorrow. A reminder that grief is not a competition and no comparison of individual pain, love or broken-hearted movement can truly be measured. If there was a measurement system for how much we are missing, the scales would have broken a long time ago. ||| This is a red rose for anyone who is missing pieces of their heart. |||

8

New Years Eve

CHOMOLUNGMA

Oakley Boycott