I am sad.
As I turned fifty, along with the celebration of half a century
of life, I understood that death is a little closer.
It’s just a fact of aging.
I’m fortunate that my most of my grandparents
lived well passed their 80’s, both of my parents are still living.
I just figured that there would be people around me aging out of life, so to say.
I’m
at a point in life where I’ll start losing loved ones to old age more
often.
Then there’s this: My friend Tony
died this past Sunday night.
He was 43 years old and was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to
have known.
His love of horror and
cheeseball movies was quite infectious and probably why we got along well.
Even if we didn’t have that in common, he was
such a nice, kind and lovable person, it would have been impossible to not love
him.
Truth be told, we didn’t hang out
as much as I would have liked, what with my scattershot schedule- and we rarely
had one on one time together. Usually, we saw each other in groups, large (muh
DAB, Dudley’s fabulous parties) or small (Bad movie Nights or TV Time Machine
viewings) and a night of scary movies at his place,(where he cooked me my very own
portion of gluten-free pasta!)
He was
always a sweetheart and I swear I don’t think I ever saw him in a bad mood.
A few years back, there came a time when I
realized I wasn’t seeing Tony as much as usual and a mutual friend let me know
that Tony was not feeling well.
Then I
learned that he had cancer and was fighting a quiet battle.
Looking back, I wish I had asked him more
directly about what was going on with him, but I didn’t want to intrude on his
privacy.
I think I let him know I was
rooting for him in his fight, without saying it.
I think I should have said it.
There was a period of
remission.
Then, it was back.
By this time, my friend, Brett, had become a little bolder in
his old age (we’re the same age) and when he learned of Tony’s renewed fight,
he found ways to gently ask and offer help.
I benefited from this.
I rode
Brett’s coattails into the conversation and didn’t feel so much as if I was
intruding or disrespecting Tony’s boundaries.
I got to ask my own questions and express concern. We continued seeing each other at gatherings and swapping a text or two
here and there.
I thought the fight was
going well, then a few weeks ago I heard he was not doing so well.
Again, instead of asking questions, I stayed
in the background “respecting boundaries”.
Then, there was that missed call late on Sunday night from a mutual
friend, the friend at whose home we met.
No message.
It was much later in
the night when I saw that I missed the call and figured I would call back in the
morning to see what was up.
Getting in
bed with my iPad, I saw the post on Facebook.
Tony is gone.
I knew he was sick and this moment might come, but still…
I thought of his boyfriend and his family. I thought of our
friends, especially the ones who were much closer to him.
I thought of his smile and his laugh; THE
APPLE; the Halloween & Christmas Music mixes he’d send out every year; cheesy movies; the
parties; the TV nights; the costumes; that bowl of Barilla gluten-free pasta;
the silly things I’d seen that made me think of him…
I felt sad, but I didn't feel bad for him. He died at such a young age, but as I observed, he enjoyed life very much. He had a great group of friends and found joy & fun in a lot of things many people would dismiss as too silly or chintzy to pay attention to. He's had at least two long term relationships, that I can think of. I've got a ten year head start, and I still have not had all those things.
He did not die alone. He had loved ones around him and friends holding him in their hearts.
As a Gay of A Certain Age, I've reached a point where I expect to lose people (who are much older!), but there will be a few who leave too soon. I've learned that I have to make a distinction between "respecting boundaries" and protecting myself. I wonder how much I've denied myself and others, believing I was not intruding and making someone else comfortable. Whatever the answer is, I do not doubt that Tony knew how much I loved him. I do wonder how much more he would have accepted from me, though. I also know that to sit and dwell on it is not something that would please him. So, I will take this and move forward and remember Tony as the sweet and fun loving guy he was. and always will be in my heart.
Goodnight, Tony! May the apple forever be yours
and may you meet an actual, actual, actual vampire.
And may every day be Halloween!
