Saturday afternoon, 9-11-10.
Of course I remember where I was, each second. Michelle, the girlfriend
that I met in New York & later almost created an entirely different
life with in San Diego, called me, woke me up.
She was normally such a strong person, so when I heard the tears
on the other end of the line saying that the World Trade Center had
collapsed, I threw on my closest clothes, hopped on my Harley & rode,
rode like fire the few miles to her house.
"They're burning - they haven't fallen..."
What I didn't know is that I was seeing a replay, and seconds later,
I couldn't have held her tighter as the first tower fell...
But that was a different life. There have been many since. Most I am able to simply learn from, but Michelle – she is something different, and so was our life together. It waas filled with immeasurable beauty at times, dancing in the gay clubs with Dana & Tom – we all used to get so much enjoyment as I teased the gay men, and she was their Queen – but then, everything changed. Everything.
Three times pregnant in my denial, the third we had chosen to keep. We both knew it would have been a boy, named it Blue. Terrified & excited, got our hands on any books we could to help us… but there was one last thing we needed to do – and all the years of denial came back – but hell, there was a good chance, wasn’t there? A very good chance that she would be my wife, my lover, mother of our child and best friend.
She came out of the Dr’s office fine, I didn’t. A note – “I’m sorry…” and Blue was no longer able to be our flesh, our blood. Fuck everything else, this is the greatest weight in my heart.
Perhaps this is why I center on me – not in a way that is about me, but in a way that will let me grow – through the pain, sorrow, and joy; through all the incredible challenges that life decides that I’m strong enough for – but I still have my doubts, until I realize that Blue is now an Angel watching over me, that Bean is the same. That all the people that have struck a chord in my heart – all of the parts of my life where there was such an amazing love that it can never be forgotten, never qualified as “the Past” – and stays with me, as something I can reach to and realize that the life I have lived – the life I live has meant something to someone and perhaps continues to, when I think
that as ornery as I may get, as disgusted at the what Facebook & Twitter has made some brilliant people become in their idiotic posts,
I may still be understood, may still