Deep Thoughts & Stuff

One of the hardest things in life is letting go.  In this world of pain and struggle for so many life is the most precious commodity.  As I grow older I am confronted with my own mortality and of those around me.  As I sit here with my oldest friend I can’t help but wonder.  Where does this all take us?  If there is a meaning to all of this madness then will we ever understand it?  When you consider the sheer size of the universe it seems so odd that life can be just some random occurrence.  I have to believe that there is more to it than just being in the right place and the right time.  When I was a young boy my greatest fear was always about being forgotten.  I wanted to make a difference somewhere, some how.  I wanted to be remembered.  When my life comes to an end will anyone remember who I was or anything I ever did?  Will my passing mean anything more than one less life on this overcrowded planet?  Will there be anything more to what I have left behind than a marble tombstone in some long forgotten cemetery?  When my life is over will there be anything left of what I have given?  I have to wonder.

On this Christmas Eve I wanted to take a moment to share some thoughts.  In this hustle and bustle world I sometimes find it hard to stop and appreciate the little things.  It seems as I get older each year passes faster than the one before it.  The hopes and intentions of tomorrow become the regrets and disappointments of yesterday.  As each year stretches into the past I find myself further from where I thought I would be.  This time three years ago I was living in Memphis.  I had just lost my job.  I had no prospects of a new one and I was on the verge of bankruptcy.  My world was turned inside out.  I knew it was time to start over.  My time in Memphis had come to an end.  Something inside of me was urging me to move to California and so I did.  Now three years, two jobs and a host of ever changing friends and faces I am still here.  It may not be the life that I had planned or the one that I thought I would have, but this is the life I have come to know and I love it.  There are always things I would have done differently or not at all.  There are always words I should have said or moments when I should have said nothing.  Now as I look back over the last three years I can see that I am very fortunate and I am extremely grateful for all of the wonderful people who I have known in my life.
They say with age comes wisdom.  It seems that just may be true.  I have learned so many things, but most of all I have learn that no matter what life brings there is always hope.  There is always hope for a better tomorrow.  There is always a silver lining to every storm.  You just have to look for it.  It may not be where you thought or it may not be as obvious as you had wished, but it is there.  In one form or another it is there.  Every age is the same.  It is only love and hope that make any of it bearable.

I wish you a wonderful and safe holiday where ever you may be.

Happy Holidays

Sean

They say that life is what happens when you are busy making other plans.  I wasn’t looking when I found you.  I was busy living a life that I had convinced myself was enough.  I was content in the idea that this was all there would ever be.  I had told myself that a life alone was all that I would ever have and that it would be all that I ever needed.  Then one day something happened that changed my life forever, something that I didn’t see coming.  From the moment I saw your smiling face I knew something was different.  There was something in you that I was not prepared for or knew how to handle.  Your kind heart filled my soul with light.  Your laughter lifted my head above the clouds and your smile filled my world with plenty.  In my life there has never been anyone quite like you.  Today as I think back to the first time I saw your face I know that this is the life I was I meant to have.  There is nothing more to it.  Life without you is not worth living.  A world without you is not worth saving.  You have meant more to me that any man I have ever known.  I will you love you until the end of time.

There are no words that I or anyone can say that will lessen the pain.  There are no gestures that will bring your mother back. There is nothing on this Earth that can help the human mind understand the loss. We are simply meant to accept and cope. The void is never filled and the passage of time is the only defense against the emptiness we feel inside.

I am so very sorry for what you are going through. Please know that you are loved by some many people in so many places on so many levels. The very gift that you have given to so many others will be returned to you a hundred times over. You are a shinning light in a sea of darkness. You are in my thoughts and prayers dear friend. I love you dearly and wish you peace always.

The following post was originally published in October of 2006.  When I wrote this it was too late to save the friend that this was about.  Now, almost 2 years later it seems I may be facing a similar situation with someone very close to me.  I hope this time I won’t be too late.

"Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life…" - The Fray

In a city like Los Angeles there is always something to do.  There are movie premieres.  There art gallery openings, trendy bars & restaurants, and great shopping.  The one thing there is not for a new comer is always someone to do things with.  I have met some really fun people, but everyone seems to have a life already in progress.  No one seems to have the time or the need for a new friend.  How can that be?  When I lived in Memphis I would go to parties in the hopes of meeting someone new.  In a city like Los Angeles, new is not necessarily improved. 

When I came here I had a handful of friends already here.  They were scattered over the L.A. metro area, but at least it was a start.  One of my friends was new to the city just like me.  He had moved here in August of last year for work and was doing great.  At least that is what I was taking from it.  Every time I would see him he would look great.  He was loosing weight and looked so happy.  After several months I noticed all sorts of strange signs.  His appearances became very rare and when I would see him there was always some drama of some sort going on around him.  Days or weeks would pass before he would return my calls.  Sometimes late at night I would get random yet very strange text messages or voice mails asking for help.  When I would respond I would get no answer.  Finally around Labor day weekend I got a call asking if he could crash at my place, but he never showed up.  I saw him out a couple nights later.  He looked very thin, sad and distressed.  I hugged him and whispered, "I’m here if you need me".

That was the last time I saw my friend.  A couple of weeks later I discovered that he had moved back to the East coast to live with his parents to try and put his life back together.  I know it is for the best, but somehow I feel that I failed him.  Perhaps if I had paid attention to the signs I could have stepped in sooner and then I could have… 

As I sit here in the solitude of my room I wonder what I really am doing here.  In Memphis I felt like people needed me and I made a difference, but here…  Here I have failed the one person that really seemed to need me.  Perhaps the person I failed was me.  I like so many others in this world need to be needed by others.  I often wonder if that is why we have children or even pets for that matter.  I once had a friend tell me that the reason I don’t keep close friends for more than a couple of years is because the minute I sense they don’t need me quite as much I start looking for someone who does.  It could be or is it me that really needs them. 

In a city like Los Angeles the simple things can be hard to find.  The other day I was standing at my window looking out at the fading sunlight of another busy day in this huge city.  I was caught off guard by what I saw.  There in the midst of everything was a pair of humming birds.  Their green iridescent feathers shimmering as they danced amongst some purple flowers hanging from a nearby tree.  They floated from flower to flower completely unaffected by the bustling metropolis surrounding them.  As I watched their delicate wings beating effortlessly in the evening air I began to wonder.  How is that something so simple like the flight of a humming bird could stand out to me?  Have I become so distracted by the constant struggle of life in a city of 14 million that I am missing the simple things that life is all about?  I once said that life is simple.  Either you have it or you don’t.

My friend’s struggle with cancer continues.  Each day is a battle for her not to lose sight of what is important.  Sometimes the pain is just too much.  Sometimes the depression is more than she can handle.  Some days are better than others.  Last week the doctors removed two more tumors and after a  couple of days declared her cancer free.  She knows that there is no guarantee that it will stay that way, but for now things are looking the best they have in quite a while.  It makes me wonder.  Are there any guarantees in life except death?  It seems that no matter what we do we cannot avoid the inevitable end of life.  Just like the humming birds dancing outside my window we move through life unaware of what surrounds us or what is around the corner.  Nothing last forever just like the purple flowers hanging from the trees outside my windows.  They too will fade and fall away.  Life is simple.  You either have it or you don’t.

They say life is what you make of it.  Then what happens when that life you have is taken from you?  How are you supposed to make the best out of the ultimate loss?  When your life is cut short there is no rebate.  There is no exchange for another chance.  How can a shining star burn in the night sky when it has been snuffed out like a candle wick?

Today I got a call from one of my beloved friends.  She is a special soul.  She fills the air with laughter and faces with smiles.  I adore her like a little brother to a big sister.  When she called I could tell something was not quite right.  I thought perhaps she was just having a bad day at work.  Without much a of lead she just blurted it out, "I have cancer".  There it was, cancer.  Suddenly I couldn’t think.  All I could say…all I could manage was, "You what?"  Then she began to explain.  She explained that they had found a tumor on her left kidney and that she was going in tomorrow to have it removed.  I swallowed hard and told her that I would do whatever she needed me to do.  As I listened to her story I could feel my heart breaking inside.  And when she had finished I took a deep breath and thanked her for telling me.  She said she wanted me to know because she knew I would be strong for both of us.  As my voice began to break I whispered into the phone, "My God you are brave".

Now I sit here tonight worried for my friend…worried that she will have her life cut short.  She has so much to live for.  A great job, a supportive family, great friends and a wonderfully full spirit.  Now to have the rug pulled out from underneath her so early.  I want to be strong for her, but I just don’t know.  I’m so angry.  Perhaps I ask too much of life.  I read somewhere that nearly 156,000 souls leave this planet each day.  I would just like to hold onto this one for a little while longer…please.

When I was a young boy I would spend countless evenings lying in the yard and looking up at the stars.  I would wonder what was there.  I would try and wrap my young mind around the concept that what I could see was only a fraction of something so vast and ever ending that my mere world was only a speck of light.  A light so faint that if it should be snuffed out tomorrow no one would be the wiser.  I have always grappled with the paradox of life on this planet and the existence of God.  In the limitless arena of space I refuse to believe that this is the only planet to entertain life.  As I grew older I began to pull away from the idea of God at all.  I mean how could it be that an almighty spirit would choose to populate only one planet among hundreds of billions of worlds?  Then to add insult to injury the creations that are placed on this sole inhabited planet are so flawed that they constantly teeter on the brink of extinction.  Over the years I have felt my grip on the concept of God loosen until finally I had basically given up.

Now as I look around I know that there is something more to it.  The very night that I wrote my entry titled, ‘Dear God, It’s me…’ something happen.  I was at the end of my rope and was debating on just giving up.  Late that night I got an email from a professional contact.  It was about a job.  Fast forward to three weeks later and an offer was made and on January 3rd I went back to work.  Do I believe that God had a hand in this?  I don’t really know.  I do know that the fact that I was offered a job less than a month after I lost mine is nothing short of miraculous.  The fact that I did not even apply for the position and it was offered to me and to me only makes me wonder.  Perhaps there is more to this than I will ever know.  I do thank God for this, because I do think that regardless of what my mind says there is more to life than living and dying.  Will I become an overly religious person?  No, but I will give more thought to it.  I think that sometimes you have to listen to the voices in your heart and not in your head.

It’s funny.  When we are young we run around looking up at the sky.  When we are older when spend a lot of time looking down at the ground.   Perhaps if we spent more time looking up and not down at our feet we would see the truth.  Perhaps if we looked up now and then we would see that God is really there.  Perhaps I will spend more time looking up at the stars.  Who knows what I might just see.

Dear God,

It’s me.  I know we haven’t talked in a very long time.  I know that I have been very distant over the last many years.  I’m not sure exactly when or how we lost touch, but we have.  The last time I remember talking was sometime in the late 80’s.   So much has happen since we last talked.  I’m much older now, but not particularly wiser.  I have moved faraway, but I haven’t come very far.  I’ve thought of you many times over the years, but I have never called.  I thought of you when one of my friends was killed in a car accident.  I thought I saw you in the crowd at the funeral of a co-worker who lost a 6 year battle with cancer.   I started to call you on that terrible day in September back in 2001, but I didn’t want to bother you.  I looked for you at the cemetery the day I buried my grandmother, but I didn’t see you there.  I’m sorry that I haven’t stayed in touch over the years.  I just felt like we had grown apart.  I felt like may be I didn’t really need you as much I thought.  May be it was just that we believed in different things or that I just couldn’t relate to you anymore, but we just stopped talking.

Now, here I am.  I stand here on the verge of nothing or everything.  I thought I had everything, but I’ve thought that before.  I’m 40 years old and I am making the same mistakes I was when I was 14.  I like to pretend that I am strong.  I like to pretend that I don’t need anyone.  I like to pretend that I am in control of my own life.  I like to pretend that I am strong enough to weather any storm.  Yes, I like to pretend, but that is all that it is, pretending.  When it comes down to it I have nothing.  I am one pay check away from being homeless.  The only thing that separates me from the homeless man sleeping in the alley behind the grocery store is time and a little bit of luck.  As I sit here tonight depressed and sad over my current situation I wonder what is next.  Where is my life going tomorrow?  What is in store for me next week?  If life is what you make of it then I need to trade in my paints and start over.

Today I spent the day alone.  The sea of depression has swallowed me.  I am adrift.  Today, for the first time in years, I called out your name.  I asked you to help me.  I asked why does this keeping happening to me.  I look around me and I see all the wonderful things that I have, but I’m scared that I may lose it all.  It’s funny just a couple of months ago I was boasting of how I had everything.  Now, I stand on the edge of the abyss.  As I look down I see the ground under my feet slowly giving way.  God, please help me.  Please give me the strength to survive all of this.  I once had a very close friend tell me I was God’s golden child because no matter what I always come out on top.

I hope that we will stay in touch.  I hope that you will come to visit now and then.  I promise to listen this time.  I promise not to turn away.  Most of all, I promise to be a better person.  After all, the greatest gift is life and it is just that simple.  Either you have it or you don’t.

All my best,

Sean

On November 8, 2005 after several months of conflict with my supervisor I lost my job of 8 years.  It was a very hard time of me, but one I knew was coming.  Three months later I started a new life and a new job in Los Angeles.  Since that time, my life has only gotten better.  I have a great and diverse group of friends.  I have a wonderful apartment in a great part of town.  I have an incredible man who loves me.  I have developed a great network of professional contacts as my career continued to move to new and exciting levels.  It was true I have been working a lot and my health has been suffering because of the long hours, but I was proud of what I had accomplished.

On November 9, 2007, exactly 2 years and 1 day later I lost my job, again.  This time there was no warning. There was no brewing conflict.  There was no indication at all.  There was simply the statement, "Your position has been eliminated".  There it was.  Just when I thought I was riding on the top of the world, I get thrown from the horse.  Now I am here, again.  I am in the land of uncertainty.  What will become of me?  Will I find another job before the money runs out?  Will I loose everything that I have worked so hard for?  I am lost.  I don’t know if I can take it this time.  What if I have to move again?  I’m just now getting where I feel like I belong.  I don’t know what to do.  I’m scared.  I’m scared of the future.  They say that when one door closes another opens.  If one more person quotes that to me I am going to throw myself in front of a bus.  Of course I wouldn’t be killed, only paralyzed from the neck down. 

As I look out at the dark November night I can’t help wonder.  What happen?  Where did I go wrong?  I was so sure of myself.  I had everything a man could want from life.  It was as if God gave me everything I wanted and then suddenly he remembered.  Perhaps we are not meant to ever have everything for very long.  May be we are always supposed to be struggling with some kind of drama.  If everything was perfect they wouldn’t call it life.  They would call it Heaven.

Tonight it is raining in Los Angeles.  That doesn’t happen very often.  When it does I like to stay at home.  Partly because people in L.A. cannot drive in the rain at all, but mostly because I love to listen to it rain.  It calms me and makes me happy.  Tonight as I listen to the rain I can’t help but get sentimental.  I have been wanting to write about this for a while, but could not find the words or get in the right mood.  The rain helps me think.  I don’t know why.  I just can put my thoughts together better when it rains.  As we go through life we fall in love and out of love.  Sometimes we end a relationship for selfish reasons.  Sometimes the relationship ends because someone cheats.  Sometimes a relationship just dies because the love has run dry.  There is no good way to end a relationship.  It hurts no matter who is to blame or who did what to who or even if there just is no more love.  The best you can hope is that you learn from it and move on ready to love and be loved again.

Almost four years ago, my relationship came to an end.  It was not easy.  As much as I tried to deny it, the time had come.  The bill was past due and had to be paid.  I tried so hard to hold on.  Finally, I admitted defeat and we broke it off.  It was not easy.  I fell apart.  My world was turned upside down.  I was angry.  I was hurt.  I was confused.  I couldn’t accept the fact that what I had thought would last forever only made it just past 6 years.  To try and compensate for my shattered world I did what most gay men do.  I buried my hurt in the comfort of other men.  I was "comforted" by many men.  I went from one right to the next.  Every so often I would meet someone nice, sweet and caring.  We would date for a while, but the minute it got remotely serious I would break it off.  I would always use the same excuses, like that I was not ready for a boyfriend.  I don’t want a boyfriend.  I love being single again.  The awful truth was that I was scared of getting too close.  Eventually I had taken my shattered heart and buried it deep inside so no one could find it.  I didn’t want anyone to touch it.  I got really good at it and then one day I noticed something.  I noticed that I had forgotten where I had buried it.  Where was my heart?  I felt like I was finally ready to being serious, but I couldn’t find the emotions to be a part of a relationship.  What had happen to me?  Was I still too scared to trust anyone.  Was I too scared to trust myself?  When my last relationship walked out the door that bright April morning did my ability to love go too?  Did it get packed away in the moving fan with everything else?

About three months ago, in an email to my Ex, I told him that I had finally accepted the fact that I would more than likely spend the rest of my life single.  I’m sure he just thought I was just being dramatic as I have been accused of being on numerous occasions.  I was serious.  I had finally come to a place in my life that I was content with everything.  My job, my home and my friends and family all filled me with contentment.  Then one day a week or so later something happen.   I met someone.  At first it was just a friendly flirtation, but within a couple of weeks it was moving full steam ahead.  Finally one Saturday afternoon about 6 weeks later as we lay talking on top of my bed he spoke a simple three word phrase.  I sat up quickly and had to look away from him.  Something was wrong.  I could feel a pounding in my chest, a lump in my throat and I had tears flowing down my face.  He asked what was wrong, but I knew nothing was wrong.  Everything was just as it should be.  Something wonderful had happen to me.  This man had reached inside of me and unlocked the door.  I was free and I was in love.  What a truly wonderful feeling.  It has been so long, but I don’t remember it being like this.  There is something different this time.  I’m different.  He’s different, too.  He is so different from anyone I have ever known.  He is more than I expected.  He is more than I feel I deserve.  He has become my very world.

"There are somethings in life worth waiting for…"

…I’m not ignoring you.  I just have been trying to think about the answer to your riddle.  It seems that I have been in a situation where a love life has turned platonic.  I held on for a couple of years just out of respect for the person and the relationship, but in the end it was not worth it.  We couldn’t fix it.  We broke up and he moved away.  It was hard and my heart ached for a long time.  I had to get the idea out of mind that I had wasted 7 years of my life.  I learned to accept it for what it was and to turn my bitterness into action.  We are still very good friends, but we had to work at it and I had to swallow my pride.

It seems to me that love has so many faces.  The love you feel for your family, the love you feel for your close friends, the love you feel for a pet or the love you feel for a partner are all so very different.  They say sex is not love, but when it comes to a relationship love without sex is just friendship.  You have to have it.  It’s human nature.  There are things in life worth having, but they come at a price.  If you aren’t feeling complete then you may have to sacrifice something to get there.  Sometimes it’s a friendship, a job, a home or even a relationship.  Sometimes letting go of something that is comfortable or familiar, but restraining is just what is needed to find the right fit. I spent the last 4 years of my life working in a job, in a relationship and in a life that was familiar and comfortable.  I couldn’t let go.  I knew I needed to, but I was scared.  Finally when I did the compass needle of my life swung around and things began to change for the better.  It didn’t happen overnight.  The changes took time, but now a year and half later life is great and I am happy.

I think you just have to decide what is important to you most.  Don’t hold on to a life that doesn’t want you.  Because someday whether you are ready or not the choice will be made for you.  Plus who knows what is out there.   Perhaps your next great love is there waiting for you.  Be careful, you don’t want to spend the rest of your life knowing that someone else is married to your husband…

Sometimes I like to look back at the things I’ve said or things that have happen to me before.  I was reading through some of my old postings today and I came across this one that I first posted August 28, 2005.  Reading it maid me understand just how far I have come in the last 2 years.

This last weekend was strange to say the least.  Friday night I was harassed and assaulted by a group of drunken lesbians who accused me of having a "problem with gay people".  Not long after that I find out from one of my ex-boyfriends that one of our friends was killed earlier that evening in a bizarre car accident involving a tree.  Saturday night I went to an AIDS fund raiser at a funeral home.  Finally, Sunday afternoon I spent 30 minutes or so with a group of homeless people in downtown Memphis taking shelter from a severe thunderstorm under the overhang of an old building.

Tonight I sit here at my keyboard looking out the window at the wind whipped rain of Tropical Storm Katrina.  It’s one of those nights when being at home feels right.  It feels safe.  It feels familiar.  I have been spending a lot of time at home lately.  Tonight  I’ve been thinking about my friend who died Friday night.  We weren’t close by any means, but we had known each other for about 6 years.  He was about my age and healthy.  I’m certain that just like me and a million other men our age death is not on the to ‘Do List’.  Most people my age think they have another 30 or 40 years left, but who really knows?

Sunday afternoon I had been out for a nice long run to help me clear my mind when I got caught in a down pour.  I’m okay with running in a summer shower, but this was a bad storm with lighting and high winds.  I soon found myself soaked to the bone and looking for shelter.  I found it under the over hang of an old building with about 10 or so homeless men.  I leaned against a wall with a small out crop to shelter me from the wind driven sheets of rain.  I stared out at the storm.  Lighting flashing, thunder booming, sheets of rain dancing down street and all the while I thought about my friend and his sudden death.  I thought that no matter how complicated we make our lives out to be they can be taken away with the simplest of actions.  The shot of a gun, the wrong turn on a highway, the wrong combination of cleaning agents in the bathroom or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time can all simply end a life.  Suddenly I thought of where I was and I took a good look around at my surroundings.  There I was soaked from head to toe in running shoes, shorts and a tank top.  All around me where people in dirty, smelling clothes.  They all looked at me as if I was some kind of circus freak.  They were all dry and warm unlike myself.  I was uncomfortable to say the least and it had nothing to do with being wet.  I looked back out at the storm that was showing no sign of letting up and thought about how fortunate I was, really.  I was no better than these men.  When the rain came I needed shelter just like them.  It didn’t matter how much money I make or what kind of car I drive…life is simple.  You either have it or you don’t.  Perhaps things are not as bad as I thought in my life right now.  I guess I have forgotten the most important part and that is that I have one.

"When you part from your friend, you grieve not; for that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain."

Kahlil Gibran- ‘The Prophet’

For Anthony…

There is a saying that one cannot see the forest for the trees.  Sometimes the very thing we are so desperately looking for is right before our eyes.  Like most people I am always searching for happiness in one form or another.  So many things about my life are good.  I know that.  I do. The problem is that I just can’t feel my life.  I look around and I see glimpses of a life less than ordinary.  I have a new apartment, my career is going exceptionally well and all around me are friendly faces.  All that said, I feel empty most of the time.  I just need to be able to step back sometimes to see the truth.

Last week I was in Boston for a week long convention.  Boston is a far way from Los Angeles.  It was a very busy week and I was exhausted by the end.  Finally after several hectic days I boarded the flight home.  I had a window seat in first class and so I played my favorite game to past the time.  I try and guess what city or landmark is below.  As I stared out the window at what I had guessed was eastern Nebraska I began to reflect back on my week in Boston.  It was soon after that I was looking at my life in L.A. and then somewhere over the Great Plains I saw it.  There it was.  I could finally see it, my life.  My life was good.  No, it was great.  I have so much to be thankful for and so many accomplishments to be proud of right now.  It’s funny.  I had to travel almost 3,000 miles to see that my life in Los Angeles is quite remarkable.

As the 757 began to descend over the city of angels, I scribbled some words on a cocktail napkin.  I then stuffed it  into my pocket.  Late that night in the comfort my home I unfolded the napkin and posted it on the fridge.  The message was simple, "Remember Always and never forget…you have it all."  There it was.  A message from the future just in case I get lost in the forest of life and can’t find my way again to the truth.

"Memories, may be beautiful and yet, what’s too painful to remember - We simply choose to forget - So it’s the laughter,
we will remember - whenever we remember…" 

Barbara Streisand - ‘The Way We Where

Sometimes we do things that we regret, but over time we learn to hide them in the back of our minds.  We trick ourselves into thinking that it wasn’t so bad after all.  We can go for years and years without ever even thinking about it.  Then one day, without warning, something happens that brings you face to face with your past.  It has been said that those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. 

My father was the oldest of three boys in his small southern family.  His youngest brother was always different.  He didn’t like the things that his older brothers did.  He didn’t play sports or go fishing or enjoy hunting.  As I moved towards my teenage years I became very aware that what was different about my red headed uncle, besides his hair color, was that he was gay.  It was the unspoken secret.  It was the thing that no one ever mentioned at the dinner table, but we all knew.  The problem for me came from the family gatherings when I was compared to him.  "Oh sometimes you remind me of your uncle so much", my grandmother would often say.  Because of that I found myself keeping my distance from him.  I thought that if I shunned him that no one would figure out that I too was gay.  So I did just that.  I would avoid him at every cost.  This went on for years.  Then when I was 19 my uncle was admitted to a hospital with pneumonia.  He had been in declining health for the last couple of years, but I wouldn’t know this because I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since I was 17.  Five days after he was admitted to the hospital he died.  It was AIDS.  My dad’s youngest brother was dead at 37 and I was in panic mode.  The funeral was in three days and I was sure that If I went they would all know about me.  How could I go to the funeral of a man I had turned my back on for the last couple of years?  How could I go to a funeral for a man that know one even acknowledge was gay much less that he died from AIDS.  How could I stare into the tear stained face of my dear grandmother and know that she knew that I could be next?  How could I watch my father weep for the loss of his little brother as they lowered the casket into that ground all the while wondering about his ever distant oldest son?  I couldn’t…I just couldn’t do it.  I didn’t go that cold April morning in 1987.  I made up some lie as to why, but I didn’t go.  My father didn’t speak to me for months afterward, but I just couldn’t do it.

I haven’t thought of those days in so long.  It’s been 30 years and for the last several I have ignored that it ever happen.  The other night I was with some friends when the were told that an old friend was sick.  He had been fighting HIV for years, but they hadn’t known.  Their grief was sudden and strong.  I just sat in the back of the car in silence as they tried to understand what had happen.  Then without warning my past came to the present.  My sad friend turned to me and asked had I ever lost anyone to HIV.  I just stared at the back of his seat.  I knew that he needed to hear it, but I was afraid of what I would say.  I took a deep breath and looked up at his tear filled eyes.  "Yes, my dad’s brother died of AIDS when I was 19 and I didn’t go to the funeral."  My friend wanted to know why I didn’t go.  I told him I was young, stupid and scared.  We got out of the car and said good night.  I walked down the block and got into my own car.  There I sat for 20 or so minutes and cried.  I wept for my friend’s new found grief.  I cried for my dead uncle, for my own father’s sorrow and my heart broken late grandmother.  Most of all I grieved for my own guilt.

Looking back now I know that I have never forgiven myself and after all these years it hurts more than ever.  I can never take back what I did.  There is nothing I can say or do that change what happen.  I will never have the chance to tell my uncle how sorry I am for the way I treated him.  I will never be able to take back the hurt.  I will have to learn to live with that for the rest of my life.

~For Rusty~

We never talked about it, but I hear the blame was mine
I’d call you up to say I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t want to waste your time

~ Phil Collins, ‘Do You Remember’

Sometimes the hardest thing to admit is not that we have been wrong, but that we miss or need someone that is no longer part of our life.  On that Sunday, against my better judgment, I went to the cookout.  I didn’t want to go and I was determined not to have a good time.  It took every thing I had inside me to walk into that house.  I stood near the door, ready to make my escape.  After about 10 minutes of small talk with the other guest I saw my "friend" crossing the room to greet me.  I felt a lump rise in my throat and my back go rigid.  I tried to look away, but it was too late.  There was no escape.  He touched my shoulders and said he was glad that I came and then he did it.  He kissed me on the cheek.  I felt my heart race.  I couldn’t say anything.  I just looked down at the floor.  He moved away into the next room.  I looked up at my friends who were all looking at me.  They where waiting on my reaction.  Inside I was screaming and trying to keep from running out the door, but on the outside I just seemed uncomfortable.  As the minutes turned to hours I finally came to a verdict.  It was going to have to be me.  He had invited me to his home.  That was his gesture.  Now it was time for me finish the story.

As the party drew to a close I found him alone in his bedroom.  I took a deep breath and I walked right up to him.  "We need to talk", I blurted out to him.  And so we did.  The defensive posturing seemed to fade after 10 or 15 minutes and the truth began to flow.  The story of why he stopped talking to me was such a minor part of the why.  The more I pressed the more feelings began to poor out.  Finally, like peeling back the skins of an onion, I found the core.  "I feel like you just don’t need me anymore…that you’d rather hang out with those other guys", he explained.  "The best hiking trips were the ones with just you and I.  I really miss you".  There it was, the why.  I reached down inside of me and I uttered the words, "I’m sorry if I hurt you.  I miss you, too."  We hugged and promised to try again.

In the end we both were wrong.  We both let each other down and we hurt each other.  They say there are three sides to every story, yours…mine and the truth.  Perhaps if we didn’t try so hard to have our side heard then we might find the truth a lot sooner.

"You have no right to ask me how I feel.  You have no right to speak to me so kind.  I can’t go on just holding on to ties now that we’re living separate lives…"

Phil Collins ~ ‘Separate Lives’

Over two months have passed without so much as a word.  It has been hard for me to adjust to life without my "friend", but I have done it.  I have run into him a couple of times over the last couple of weeks out at the bars.  That has been kind of awkward, but I just ignore him, mostly.  Last night I was at a party and there he was.  The room was small and crowded.  I could not ignore him as much as I tried.  I felt my neck stiffen as he approached.  "Hi, …how are you?  It’s good to see you."  There it was.  Just like that he was completely ignoring the events of two months ago.  I stood there stiff and emotionless.  I looked at the floor and mumbled I was fine and then moved to the other side of the room.  I could not help think how dare he be so nice to me.  To me the greatest insult to our friendship is to ignore that anything went wrong.  I have to wonder why this is so hard.  I had a friend tell me this morning I need to just let go and stop dwelling on it.  Perhaps that is true, but I know me.  I don’t work that way.  I need closure.  I need to know how and why.  I need an ending to the story.  I don’t even want an apology.  I just want a why.  I don’t think that is too much to ask. 

Today there is a cookout at my "friend’s" house.  It’s in honor of another friend’s birthday.  I have been invited to go by both parties.  I don’t want to go.  In my mind by going to the party I am simply saying that it’s okay that we haven’t spoken in over two months.  I am in essence condoning his behavior.  If I go I will be very uncomfortable and it will be awkward.  Why would he invite me to this?  Why is being so kind?  He has no right.

Sometimes we meet someone and there is a click, a connection, a spark.  Sometimes that connection is so strong that it pulls you together against all the odds.  Sometimes the spark is so intense it can set things on fire.  Then sometimes the very thing that brought you together in the first place ends up driving you apart.  Finally, sometimes the separation is more intense than the connection.  Do the most intense things  in life last the shortest because that is all as human beings we can endure?  Are we forever doomed to chase after the shooting star just before it is snuffed out? 

The person I have grown the closet to since I moved to California has faded away.  Our friendship had a spark from the very beginning.  It was a fast and furious journey.  It was charged with emotion and attraction, but the very thing that brought us together has now pushed us apart.  I have to admit that our friendship was a little one sided.  The fact that I was attracted to him was a problem from the very beginning.  As our relationship evolved it became more and more apparent how easily I could be manipulated because of how I felt.  Now months later the flame that was our friendship has been extinguished.  I’m not sure how or why, but it has happen.  As I sit here tonight I have to wonder what is next for me.  My closest friend since I moved here is now as distant as any stranger on the street.  I once told a friend back East that this new friendship was wonderful and all, but that it was also a distraction.  The spark was so intense I have not been able to see clearly.  Perhaps now without the glare of his friendship I can move on and find the life that I am supposed to be living.  I will miss him and may be we can be friends again some day, but for now I will look for a new shooting star and may be this time I will wear shades.

In the 12months since I moved to Los Angeles I have had my share of odd experiences.  Almost everyday I see something or someone that makes me do a double take.  Tonight I had dinner at a restaurant in Beverly Hills.  I looked up at one point and there was Marlyn Manson at the table next to me in full goth make up.  Even when shopping at The Grove or strolling along the Third Street Promenade or most certainly walking the boardwalk on Venice beach there is always a multitude of sights and sounds to delight and amaze the senses.  Of all the places here I have found nothing can surpass the local laundromat.  I have had the privilege of washing my clothes next to a punk rock girl and her pet yellow python.  Then there was the homeless man who stripped down to his black socks and dingy yellow boxer shorts, but a few weeks ago I experienced the oddest of odd.  There before me was a small woman in her late 20’s dressed in a pink jogging suit and pink tennis shoes.  The part that struck me was that she had some 15 loads of laundry that night and every single item was a shade of pink.  You could not help but stare.  She had blankets, towels, sheets, shirts, pants, socks all tumbling in the dryers before her.  The longer I watched the more I wondered about her life.  Was pink all that she owned?  Did she buy everything pink or did she have to dye some of it?  What about her home?  Was it pink, too?  Did she have pink drapes and blinds?  Were the walls plastered with pink wallpaper or coated with pink paint?  I wondered if she had a pink car and if so, was the interior pink, too.  Later on the evening I learned that she had spent $35.00 on laundry that night, but that she did not own a car.  As I watched her stand on the sidewalk waiting on a taxi with her 15 loads of pink I couldn’t help wonder.  Was this part of some gimmick she had going?  Could she be a street performer?  Was she merely extremely fond of the color pink or was she just obsessed to the point of compulsive?

When I first moved to The City of Angeles I was certain that I would never be able to replace the friends or life that I left behind in Memphis.  I am not young, remarkably cute or even very smart.  I was prepared for the fact that I would have a very hard time making friends and finding my niche socially.  This Saturday night I am having a party to celebrate my birthday with about 50 friends.  This party is very important to me for a lot of reasons.  The fact that is about my birthday is not important at all.  This is my first real party in L.A. since I moved here last February.  I don’t have a lot of talents, but I do enjoy throwing parties.   When I lived in Memphis I was always planning parties, volley ball games, Saturday morning runs, dinner parties and social gatherings big and small.  It was this that made me who and what I was in Memphis.   It defined me and it was people remember me for to this day.  I love to bring people together.  It gives me great joy to be surrounded by friends old and new.  You could almost say that I am obsessed with it.   Perhaps that is the color of my life…party is the new pink.