Love
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Behind My Rainbow Closet Door – My Coming Out Story
“I kissed Gina in my dream,” eleven year old me says to my mother. Gina is a girl from school. It is 1975. The Stonewall Riots erupted six years earlier and it’s been two years since homosexuality came off the American Psychiatry Associations (APA) list of mental illnesses. Of course, I know none of these things. I’m eleven. Nor does one girl kissing another in a dream mean they are gay. Spoiler Alert – this eleven year-old girl is gay. She just doesn’t know it yet. Is my mother aware of these two significant events in LGBTQ history? Unlikely. Does my dream alarm her? Hardly. She dismisses my nocturnal canoodling…
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Signs of Life & Love & Angel Wings
My daughter calls March 1 Christy’s angel wing anniversary. It sounds better than the date of her death. Each passing day through a year of firsts without my wife brought me further away from the most painful day of my life, only to be right back to the day my journey through grief began a year earlier. That is the circular nature of grief and life. Throughout this year long journey there were always reminders of the life now lost to me. In our social media dominated world, Facebook reminds me of what Christy and me were doing 1 year ago, 2 years ago and 3, 4 and 5. Memories…
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Do Not Resuscitate – A Final Act of Love
“DOMA was overturned” my father texted me on June 26, 2013. On that day, the Supreme Court ruled that the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) was unconstitutional and that the federal government could not discriminate against married lesbian and gay couples for the purposes of determining federal benefits and protections. I immediately sent a text to my partner. “DOMA was overturned. Do you want to get hitched in a couple of weeks when we are in New York?” We lived in Florida which was one of many states that banned same sex marriages. New York recognized gay marriage. If we married in New York, our marriage would have federal recognition…
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Halfway To Who Knows Where
It is September 1, 2020. One half of a year has passed since starting this journey. 6 months. 181 days. 4,344 hours. 260,640 minutes. 15,38,400 seconds. I made it. I’m not sure what I expected to find when reaching this milestone. I just wanted to get here; to put the days of rawness behind me. And in 6 more months from now, I want to summit the peak of one year on this hijacked journey. To get through a year of firsts without her. To stand on top of 12 months widowed with a 360 degree view and see where I came from and look ahead to where I am…
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When the Band Came to Town
Courtney Walsh wrote this uplifting metaphor on death weeks after her stepmother passed away. Courtney is a junior at the University of Florida studying acting and history. As you will read, she is also a gifted writer. When the band came to town, Mrs. McKittrick was busy baking a pie. She sat near her kitchen window tugging at the dough carefully. A jar of cherry filling waited their turn on the counter, but it wasn’t time for cherries yet. On the quiet street in front of her, the band came marching by. Trumpets, cymbals, and drums thudded down the hot asphalt. But Mrs. McKittrick was busy baking a pie. When…
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Hello From Heaven
In my June 8 post, Waving Goodbye on the Way to Heaven, I wrote about the sign I asked my mother to send me weeks before she died and my experience moments after her death. In this blog post, I will share pictures from other experiences I’ve had since then and the stories that go with them. Angels and Saints In 2015, we spent part of our summer vacation in Boston. Christy and I visited a few years earlier and wanted to share the history, culture and food we discovered on that trip with our daughter, Courtney. My mother passed on the history nerd gene to me which I passed…
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Waving Goodbye on the Way to Heaven
“We should talk.” My mother says this to me from where she sits tucked into the corner of the family room’s L sharped sectional. “It won’t be much longer for me. I want to make sure you have the opportunity to say anything that shouldn’t be left unsaid?” There’s a heaviness and finality to her words. “We’ve be talking our entire lives. There’s nothing we haven’t talked about or said to each other,” I calmly insist. I need her to believe this, so that no worry remains inside of her for me. And this is mostly true except for the parts of my life I edited from her knowledge before…
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Once Upon a Time
As I left the house this morning to have an unpleasant but necessary “you’re at that age” routine medical procedure, I reconfirmed with my daughter that grandpa would be over in a few minutes to drop her off at school instead of me. Her eyes grew big with alarm and I was ready to reassure her that I would be fine, “nothing to worry about”, when she blurted out, “did you leave me any coffee?” So that was it. My daughter’s routine was disrupted, and it better not have included the morning cup of coffee she was used to sneaking from the coffee pot. Oh, how times have changed. Once…
