I have a tattoo on my finger that I got with someone I once truly believed to be my soulmate. I felt like everything in my life led up to meeting him and marrying him one day. He was the first trans* person, who had accepted and transitioned, I ever had a relationship with, and changed my mind on a lot of issues. He'd done a lot of dirty work on changing himself over the years, and was willing to slog through it with me.

But we didn't live in the same region, I had kids, and he needed someone there, all the time. So we didn't last.

On a group about grief, I saw a post from the person he did end up with. And she posted his cremains. And I'm devastated.