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 guysterrules | |
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Last night while I was taking a leak, I stared into the mirror above the toilet and thought that I should’ve put what I’d written into better context. Well, first I thought I should’ve posted it without allowing comments (after all, I regrettably berated a friend for mourning his grandmother), but they started to roll in, thoughtful and kind. I didn’t write it so much for feedback, though, as I did to just let it bleed out of my system. As I said, I was taking a leak, staring in the mirror, my face a mess, and I tried to think of a good first sentence, which to me, is the spark plug for anything I write. Every one I conceived sounded silly in my head, and then I started to think of what fun it would be to come up with the worst opening line for this entry. Some candidates were: Just as the ocean crashes to the land, so do my emotions.Or Last night, I put my guilt finger down my throat.Or ”If only…” or “I should have…” or “Why didn’t I?” are all the razor blades that slit my wrists.The truth is grief is repetitive. For the first two years, those thoughts of guilt were as constant as blinking. After moving to DC, I could lose myself in work, pushing the punishing pain into a nighttime event. Meeting Joe helped more than I can articulate. The last year has been bearable, just. The cycle is broader now, the paralysis of sadness spaced further apart. When the bucket of bile builds up, though, I need someplace to spill. Unfortunately for you, it’s here. Sometimes it’s triggered by an unintended event, like 30 Days, or it can be the time of year (the month before January 21st has proved to be nightmarish), or many times, a simple memory. I’ve repeatedly written variations of last night’s post, and it’s likely you’ll see it again. I made many of you furrow and gnash and struggle, all in the genuine hope of helping. You strengthen my faith, the faith I have that people are inherently kind and want to comfort someone in trouble. You bolster my belief that this experience we’re having here on a small random spinning rock is not the sum total of our lives. I certainly don’t have all of the answers, sometimes barely a clue, but I know I’ll be back in my baby’s arms, and we’ll walk in the sun. With love and faith, we can overcome anything. Tags: guyster
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We're fine (me & you). I wanted to rebut, but I just decided to put a cork in it.
I have to remember that I think you write about Billy's death to get it all out, and maybe not because you want people to add their two cents. I read what you write and it makes me angry, because I can see the funny, passionate, whip-smart man (that'd be you) in there, in your other posts, who seems to forget that life is for the living, and I just feel that Billy, if he could have forseen what was going to go down, would have wanted to you to both embrace your time with him, and to not stop living, yourself. It sounds like you are making progress, which is something I have wished for ever since I found you here.
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From: stutts |
Date:
June 22nd, 2005 02:55 pm (UTC)
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Growing up
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I'll admit it--when I was younger I was a total homophobe (I grew up in a hick farm town, sue me). But after high school I became more open-minded, and after nine years of living in Seattle--during which time I had numerous gay friends and acquaintances, volunteered for LLAA's gay bingo, and religiously read The Stranger--homosexuality no longer seemed repulsive to me, or even really unusual.
For all that, though, I see now that I've always had really stereotypical ideas about homosexual men: to wit, the young ones are naive, confused, and vulnerable; the adult ones are catty, vain, shallow, and materialistic; or (in the cases of the ones I've gotten along the best with) wise, sexless, and gently sarcastic; the older ones are jaded and manipulative.
And I see now that there's something that I've never encountered, something I had never even conceived of: that a man could have full-blown, cosmic, indestructible romantic feelings for another man. As you've probably noticed, I'm not usually the sentimental type, but ... well, you know.
It also makes me wonder about how I've treated my own Guyster, how I've built a wall around her so completely that to me it's as if she's dead ... only she's not, and while treating her that way might be wise, it also might be tremendously, utterly foolish.
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