COLUMBUS, OHIO - In July of 1996, like a lot of people, I set off for a much anticipated and deserved vacation. I began by driving to Montreal, where my lover at the time lived. After spending a couple of days together we set out for Ogonquit, Maine, in his car.
Ogonguit was a special place for my partner and I since that is where we had met, a couple of years previously. It is a small, quiet, gay-friendly village, nestled on the coast, with beautiful panoramic views of the ocean. We were looking forward to spending a week together in a little bed and breakfast, sunning on the rocks, stuffing ourselves with lobster, and visiting with friends who were also coming to Ogonquit. But mostly, we desired to just spend some quiet time together.
Less than an hour after we had arrived at the bed and breakfast my mother called from Detroit to tell me that my father had suffered a cardiac arrest, had been brought back to life by electric shock, and was in the critical care unit of the hospital. She went on to say that the doctors were having a hard time stabilizing him, he was on a ventilator, and that I should come home as soon as possible.
At 3:45 the next morning my partner and I set off for Boston so that I could catch the earliest flight to Detroit. So with my car in Montreal, my lover and clothes in Maine, and my only suit at my home in Columbus, Ohio, I set off to Detroit not knowing whether my father was alive or not. As a self-admitted "control queen", I have never felt as vulnerable, helpless or stressed in my life.
My father was alive and aware of his surroundings when I finally reached him later that same morning. We could only visit for half an hour every four hours. In those first couple of visits he could still smile, squeeze your hand and blink when you asked him questions (he couldn't speak, due to the ventilator). During those few hours my mother and I were able to tell him everything that we needed him to know. That we would be there for him and that we loved him very much. I thank God for those couple of visits.
But his condition deteriorated, and three days later, at 6:40 a.m. while I held his one hand and my mother his other, he died.
My father was my hero. While [I was] growing up, he let me make my own mistakes, because -- as he said -- it was the best way to learn. I could never lie to him. He showed me what humor was and how to view life with a smile. He was caring, nurturing, and the most gentle of men.
But the most important lesson he taught me was about "family".
Frequently, he would say: "Friends are more important than relatives because friends will always be there for you."
As a gay man, I am so thankful to have been taught that lesson beginning at a very young age!
During the days that followed my father's death, while all of the funeral rituals were taking place, it was his lesson about family that kept me sane. For, while I was surrounded by dozens of cousins, uncles, aunts and other relatives, none of them were my "family".
Don't get me wrong--I like most of my relatives. I just don't know them. And they don't know me.
I wasn't raised around them and hadn't seen a lot of them in, literally, years.
All that tied us together was a similar blood type. And a funeral is not the place to sit down for a few hours, drink a couple of beers and share your views of love and life. So while it was nice to see them, emotionally it meant very little. They were relatives. Not family.
It was the family of my friends that were my salvation. Talking to my partner twice a day allowed me to cry and vent my feelings. Talking with my best friends allowed me to share everything that was happening. Card and flowers from friends would cause me to become bleary eyed.
And when several of them actually drove two hours to come to my father's funeral, I knew that I had been truly blessed with a loving family. My father's teachings had come true. They had been there for me.
LesBiGay people, more than most, realize what the "family" really means. We realize that everyone gets to choose his or her family. Some members of my family are LesBiGay, some are straight, some are African American, some are Republicans, some are Socialists, and they have varying degrees of education. Yet they are all my family because we truly care about each other. And we are, and always will be, there for each other.
My father also taught me that it is possible to have relatives who are also family.
ON DRUGS: ADAM J. SMITH suggests that last week is the week the Prohibitionists exposed their feet of clay. Imagine an END to the Drug War...
PLANETARY MADNESS: JENNIFER BLUE's astrological forecasts are ALL ABOUT YOU!
POWERSSOUND: BOB POWERS looks at the work of CHICK COREA.
STONEWALL VIEWS: PHIL MARTIN on Father's Day and the true meaning of FAMILY.
CRUNCHTIME: PREMIERE! G21 SPORTS welcome our second, and Right Coast, sports writer KRIS "KO" OLSON. More sports coverage, more of the time, here at The World's Magazine.
LIFE ON THE STREET: REDUX! RADIO RAHEEM goes solo again in the rebirth of LOTS.
BarnesandNoble SEARCH: Every writer here still reads offline. We support Barnes and Noble and hope you will, too. This is the place to find the best and brightest!