They met on OkCupid, a free online dating site, and went on their first date on Sept. 17, 2010.
But Wil Abtahi didn't really know that was a date, or just two friends getting together.
They had gotten tea, went to a comic book store and were at Lenya Friesner's home to watch a movie.
Friesner turned to Abtahi and said, "You know, you're really beautiful; I'd be really angry with myself if I didn't at least try to kiss you."
That's when Abtahi realized it was a date.
Additional photos at the link: www.windycitymediagroup.com/gay/lesbian/news/photospreadthumbs.php .
And yes, they kissed—and their romance quickly blossomed.
Friesner had plans to go on dates with others through OkCupid, but after meeting Abtahi, she cancelled them.
"I just knew," Friesner said.
After about four months of dating, Abtahi told Friesner for the first time that she loved her.
The lesbian lovers moved in together in Rogers Park about two years ago.
Friesner said the relationship was, "fantastic" and tagged Abtahi as "so smart and clever."
"We had the right personalities to just co-exist peacefully, happily, and never fought, in terms of yelling at each other, angrily. If there was a disagreement, we would cry about it, talk about our feelings and have it worked out in a few hours," Friesner said. "She taught me so much about what it means to communicate fearlessly and love unconditionally.
"She really was understanding and permissive that there are all sorts of people in the world, and that there's no one set way that all people have to be, or things that everyone has to like."
Friesner, an only child who grew up in Michigan and has lived in Chicago since 2008, is admittedly very competitive. Abtahi, who was a textile artist, taught Friesner "that life isn't about competition; it's about cooperation, about giving people the tools so they feel secure and free to be their best self."
But then came Friday The 13th ( of December, 2013 ), truly, the unluckiest day of both their lives: Abtahi, then 25, was diagnosed with Ewing sarcoma, a rare form of cancer found in the bone or in soft tissue, often in the pelvis, femur, humerus, ribs and clavicle.
"We really didn't want to know how bad it was, so we could still sleep at night and live our lives. No one wants to feel like the Grim Reaper is rattling your window pane every day," Friesner said.
Doctors told them this past January that the diagnosis "was not great."
"We knew that it was going to be really hard, but I think for a while we wanted to pretend that we could beat it," Friesner said.
By March or April or so, Friesner now doesn't recall the exact timeframe, a brain tumor was discovered in Abtahi—"and that's when I got really, really scared," Friesner said.
"It was a very aggressive [tumor] that did not respond to any of the chemotherapy or radiation treatment."
Abtahi, who was 26, died July 5 with Friesner and family members close by.
"It's pretty terrifying and awful to watch the person who you love most stop being themselves. I had to learn a lot very quickly about her oncoming death," said Friesner, 28, who works as a senior market research associate. "It was a huge, huge comfort knowing she wasn't in physical pain, but at the same time, it was really horrible having to watch her let go and realizing that I needed to give her permission to let go."
Friesner said Abtahi's last week was "very surreal, and all connected."
Abtahi spent June 30 in their apartment, the last full day she spent there, but she was so tired that she couldn't really leave the couch in the living room, even sleeping on the couch that night, Friesner said.
The next day, July 1, Abtahi was so weak from the disease that she couldn't even dress herself. Her dad had to help her get down the three flights of stairs, very laboriously, Friesner said.
Abtahi needed a wheelchair when they got to the hospital, plus an oxygen tank.
Doctors soon told Friesner that there was nothing else they could do for Abtahi's quantity of life, and instead they needed to focus on the quality of Abtahi's life.
She soon was in hospice care—Abtahi the struggling patient, Friesner the loving partner, who slept on a couch next to Abtahi in the same room.
Friesner knew then that "there wasn't going to be a turnaround … I knew she probably wasn't going to leave that room. So I really wanted to be around her and get the most out of our last days together."
From Tuesday night, July 1 until a few hours after Abtahi passed, when her body was taken away, Friesner was there—"to tell her how much I loved her, to make sure that she really knew it."
Friesner spoke to the Windy City Times less than a week after Abtahi's passing. She was calm and collected, and quick to share a message from the tragedy: "To love fiercely, and even in moments of pain and loss, the love makes it worth it," she said.
Abtahi passed away with her dad and his girlfriend in the room; Friesner was in an adjoining room, talking with her parents. Friesner wasn't surprised at the timing; she was sure Abtahi wouldn't let it happen when Friesner was right there.
Earlier coverage at the link: www.windycitymediagroup.com/lgbt/PASSAGES-Wil-Abtahi/48211.html .
