Sasha
In 2007, at the age of 12 years old, I was in seventh grade. In seventh grade, I met a girl named Aleksandrea Sascha-Astrid Pearce II (named after her grandmother), but she preferred to be called Sasha. That girl and I grew together until we were eventually husband and wife. I love her, and she loves me. That's what we always say to each other. I am her Tyler. She is my Sasha.
I lost my Sasha the morning of January 26th, 2023. I am 27, she was 28.
If it's okay with everyone reading this, I am going to talk about her for a bit.
I'm going to start by stressing that Sasha wasn't perfect. Not because I didn't think so, but because she hated it when I pretended that she was. She considered that to be inherently dishonest and always said that she and I were better than that.
My Sasha had very bad anger problems. She was an anxious person at heart and lashed out more than I ever thought she meant to. And she often combated those problems with drink. She tried therapy, but that only made her anxiety worse. She also suffered from heart problems.
There, she's not perfect. But beyond that, she really was.
My Sasha was born on October 29th, 1994. She was born at sea, because her mother had no idea that she was pregnant. When she was 10 years old, her parents both died. This caused her to move from her native land of England to Florida where her grandmother lived. That's where we met.
She had such a lovely smile, and such an infectious laugh. She enjoyed comic books, manga, and mystery novels. And she loved the ocean. She could talk on and on about the ocean and everything in it. She loved reading about it and telling people about it. She always wanted a career where she could go into it, explore it, find something new and wonderous and thrilling. She collected seashells and starfish and loved to take pictures of fish. We went to so many aquariums together. And we took so many trips to the beach.
I can't swim, but she was always strong. She'd swim out for miles with me hanging onto her for dear life, then we'd just float, and she'd talk to me about the sea.
She was like that about everything, something would catch her interest and she'd be off. She called me one morning while we were both on the way to work and we both ended up calling out so she could talk about how "fucking cool" gorillas are.
She was a passionate person about things she enjoyed and about things she loved. It was never anything less than a revelation to watch her face light up.
I'm writing this in chunks as I think. Thinking about her in the face of all of this is hard, but it's something that I want to do. I miss her so much.
The day we met; it was raining. It was lunchtime. None of my friends were at school that day, but it seems like everyone who liked to bully was. I didn't want to be in the lunchroom to be harassed, so I bought a package of vanilla Clodhoppers and a package of Cheez-It's from the vending machine and ate outside, under the awning. And there she was, just sitting in the rain.
I decided to just say hi. After that, one thing led to another and we were sitting next to the water fountain and talking about Naruto, of all things. She seemed upset, but I'm an anxious person myself and I couldn't really muster up the courage to ask her what about. The bell rang and we went back to class. I had never seen her before that point and didn't think I ever would again.
Then the day ended, and I found her waiting for me next to the school band room, right next to the parent-pickup lane.
And she kissed me.
I've never been good with names, and I never will be. It takes me a while to really commit what to call someone to memory. But she told me after that that her name was Sasha Pearce, and I never forgot it again.
After that we were inseparable. We didn't kiss again for the longest time after. I don't think that was a particularly romantic one, just her saying thank you the way she knew how. She always refused to say afterward. But we continued to hang out and talk about manga. She introduced me to One Piece, because she loved the ocean and loved pirates. I introduced her to Zatch Bell because I was collecting the cards that were being released at the time.
Then, one day, an asshole at the school named Cole cornered me on the way to parent pickup. He was this eighth grader that always carried around a Guitar Hero controller because that's all they did in band (piss poor American school district). I'm not a confrontational person. I'm honestly kind of a wuss. I simply just tried to run away, but he hit me for "looking like a faggot".
He went to hit me a second time and suddenly stumbled back. And then he turned around and Sasha cracked him across the face with the Guitar Hero controller. And I just remember after that, sitting there with my lip bleeding and watching her hit him. He slapped her once in the face and knocked off her glasses and she screamed, and her lips drew back, and she just...punched, and punched, and punched, and ripped out a handful of his hair. And he kicked her. And she pie-faced him and smacked his head into the walkway. And then Mr. Collins, the Agriculture teacher, pulled her off him.
I didn't see her again for a month after that. Both got three weeks suspension and two weeks in-school-suspension for fighting. He had to write me an apology essay. And Sasha told me that she had to write one to him. Then, she was back. And we were back to hanging out together. Cole avoided the both of us like the plague. People at school started calling her "The Crazy Chick/The Crazy Bitch".
I don't remember what brought it up or how I screwed up the courage, but I told her that I loved her. And she told me that she loved me. And then we kissed again. And that's how I came to be known as "The Guy Dating the Crazy Chick/Crazy Bitch".
She was the only person I've ever loved like that. And I never saw a single flaw. My Sasha was a passionate person, someone who could put her mind to anything and accomplish anything. She was a master of string instruments: violin, guitar, and bass. She was the closest thing to an omniglot I've ever met. She knew how to speak English, Spanish, French, and German. She even learned Japanese just because she wanted to sing-along with anime openings.
She was a brilliant person too: veterinarian and a marine biologist. She loved to act on stage too, though she rarely ever got to do that. She held two jobs in Orlando during college, at Sea World and at Islands of Adventure. She was the only person I've ever known that I'd describe as both an introvert (she was always nervous around new people) and an extrovert (she really did love to perform.)
I remember the look on her face when she played that violin, she always seemed to go into a trance. She lost herself in that music. She loved to play a song called Ashokan Farewell, what she called her best "professional performance". But I also remember her being so blisteringly happy the moment she felt like she finally got Moon Pride down just right. She always loved Sailor Moon.
She was an amazing singer too. Like I said before, she learned Japanese because she wanted to sing-along with anime openings. She loved Sorairo Days. We used to go to karaoke together a lot and, even though my voice sucks, we sang. As cringey as some may find it, we always made it a point to sing All I Want for Christmas is You together at least once a year.
And, though neither of us were good at it at all, she loved to dance. We spent hours trying to get the movements for the Wotakoi dance down just right.
No matter what we were doing, though, I remember the laugh above anything else. It was such a good laugh. It was a fun one. It makes all of my memories with her so vivid.
I never thought I'd ever have to write something like this. As morbid as it is to say, I had always planned to die first. Or to die together. We had the longest talk one day, after one of her birthday dinners, sitting in the parking lot of Maggiano's Little Italy. We talked about growing old together, sending any kids we had off to live their lives and just finding a nice rut. She didn't want either of us to work anymore starting around age 50. She just wanted to explore, travel, and then find a nice place to plant our roots.
She loved M*A*S*H*, because she used to watch re-runs of it with her grandmother. She wanted us to be a "M*A*S*H* couple", just watching it on AMC or whatever channel it was on, or even buying the Blu-ray collection, and then going to bed once we were both tired.
She always held onto me so tight when we laid down together. She was warm. She felt safe. She would always put her head against mine and, even though she never did it out loud, I could always hear that little snore hiding in her throat.
And when we'd wake up the next morning and I just get to stare into those beautiful, silver-blue eyes. She always washed her hair with cherry-scented shampoo, so just being enveloped in that smell, with that warmth, and those eyes.
I love her.
We knew this was coming in the end. I'm surrounded by kind friends that always told me that things were going to pull through and that she was going to be okay. But Sasha knew and she made sure that I did too.
We spent her final week talking and reminiscing. We laughed and I cried, and she didn't. She wanted to, I could see it one her face, but she didn't. She spoke in a soothing voice, bringing up happy memories and telling me that it was going to be okay and that I was going to be okay and how much she loved me. She kept telling me how much she loved me. She never stopped telling me how much she loved me.
And she never stopped telling me how I needed to not let this beat me. I needed to be happy. I needed to move on. I needed to do things that made me happy and showed how talented I was. She genuinely believed that a mediocre piece of shit like me was one of the most "talented and lovely" people she had ever gotten to know. Neither of us believe in God or any stupid shit like that, but she swore to me that she would be waiting for me on the other side. And she made me promise that such a thing would be a long time away. I have to grow old, so that I can meet her again and tell her about how I lived.
The last thing I ever said to her was "I love you". And the last thing she ever said to me was "I love you, too." And then, the next morning, she was gone.
She kept telling me that she loved me and that I was going to be okay.
And now she's gone and I'm not okay. I'm not okay at all.
This is going to be my last addition to this before posting it. Everything hurts.
This isn't the end of Dragon Ball Z: Dynasty or anything like that. Sasha was the number one fan of my story, bar no one. If I let this all fall apart now, it would make her sad.
I have to take a break though. I don't know how long, but I can't think right now. I'll get back to this eventually.
I love you all. Thank you for your time.