thoughts

Well in the past six years.  I have not talked to any of GW’s family.  They had my number and address.  They did not bother to ask how I was after his death. That hurt.   I stopped to see his sister once in Bowie where he was from.  I was on my way the cemetery; I was hoping she might want to go with me.  She didn’t. She was friendly and we talked for a while.   I never saw her again after that. 

 I met with Bob and Michael once.  About two month after his death.  Bob is GW brother; and Michael is his partner of about 15 years.  GW died in September.  Our meeting before Christmas. I remeber the christmas lights.  We met at a local bar in Dallas. It was called the Hideaway. I’m not sure it is even still open.  It was not my usual place.  They ( Bob and Michael)  picked the place to meet.  We sat in the front bar area and ordered a few drink and talked.  It was a bit strained.  They had never warmed up to me, to say the least. Actually they didn't like me at all.  And I knew it. But the point of the meeting was to finalize some issues surrounding GW passing.  I had some family things that they wanted.  We also discussed the funeral and how much we missed him. Bob, GW’s older brother, shared childhood memories.  He was a teenager when GW was born. So he remembered a lot.  GW was an ornery kid.  He would often be punished for being so pig headed, that is what Bob said.  It was not hard to imagine. I had gotten to know him very well during our life together.  He was a very independent man.  He had his own way of doing things.  GW also enjoyed music and at one point played the piano and organ. He also played trombone in the local high school band.  GW once told me that he was not very good, but it was fun.  In small towns, kids join organizations because there is not much else to do.  I understood that.

Bob, Michael and I went out the patio with our drinks.   It was an open courtyard area.  We wandered into the small building at the far end of the property.  It had been converted into another game room with pool and dart boards and a full service bar inside. There were several guys sitting and watching the large TV over the bar.   I drank a beer, they drank martinis.  I had just lost my partner and best friend.  Being there and listening to the stories really got to me.  I tried to fight back my tears.  I had brought along several family photos.  Also I gave them his college ring, several pieces of jewelry and rare coins GW had acquired. 

Many months before, GW had invited his family over to our place for an afternoon.  He knew he was going to die and found comfort in them all being together in one place.  They obviously loved him.  So did I.  He talked privately with them about his wishes.  He had already told me what to do, whom to call and how to handle things on his behalf.  GW gave them things that were special to him.  These included keep sakes and photo albums.  He even gave them art work and his pieces from his personal antique collection.   It made him feel good to give things to his loved ones. Maybe that would bring them comfort upon his death.  They would have something that once belonged to him. 

 He had a good day. Everyone left. It was just him and I.  I made dinner, and we talked.  He told me that after he passed, he wanted me to move on with my life. There were many tears.  Don’t grieve too long he said.  He tried to flatter me by saying I would find a new man in a month.  I didn’t really want to hear it.  He told me to not invite his family over after he died. I was not sure why. He explained that they might take things from me.  He also advised me that I should move after he died.  He said he had given them everything he wanted to have. The rest of his belongings were mine.  He had alrady transferred his money into my account  for funeral expenses.   He told me to sell his car.  I eventually did.

Bob and Michael never liked me. I remember,  I was nervous the first time I was introduced to them.  GW had told them about me. I was the new love of his life.  They were happy to know he had found some one new.  They invited us to come to Dallas for the weekend.  It was not a very good visit.  The always looked down on me for being Mexican. They always thought GW could have done better.  It hurt and I after a few years of strained family gatherings. I stopped going.  GW didn’t like it, but he dealt with it.  He wanted me there.  But why would I want to be where I was not really welcome.   Once they had invited us to a high priced steak house.  They were both successful guys and enjoyed spending money.  GW and I lived on a budget because he was in grad school and only I was working.  It would have been more affordable to enjoy a meal with a reasonable cost.   But no, they insisted we all dine at a fancy restaurant. The conversation was good.   I mostly sat there, not really engaging.  We  splurged on our dinner.  Even thought it was not our way.  My night was ruined when Bob and Michael finished off two bottle of wine between them and his brother knocked his water goblet over and it poured into my lap.  I was wet, embarrassed and very pissed.  I came back the table after trying to dry my crotch in the hand dryer of the men’s room.  I politely excused my self from the group;   I whispered to GW that I would be in the car.  I was in tears as soon as the car door slammed.   Our group finished the meal without me.   GW was kind enough to apologize for the accident his brother caused and he had brought the remainder of my dinner home for me in a hinged Styrofoam container.  He told me his brother felt bad, but I could not be consoled.  I did not go to anymore dinner with his Brother Bob and Michael  again.  I even skipped the Christmas party I skipped.  I told GW to have a great time.  He went, but didn’t talk about it. He was the one they invited anyway; I was just the ‘plus one guest’.  At least that is how I always felt. 

The things I gave Bob and Michael where things I wanted them to have after he died.  They said thank you.  And we hugged be fore leaving.  As gay men, I thought may I might be able to lean on them.  But no, that did not happen. I did not see them again.    I sent them a letter a few months later.  I gave them an update about where I had moved, and how my job was going.  I was alive, but not back to living.  It would be a long time for that to happen.  My grief was almost unbearable, but I faced it alone.  It hurt that they did not ask how I was doing.  They did not call.  The letter I sent included a copy of GW’s death certificate, and information about the head stone that was to be placed.  I got no response.  The head stone was the last thing that I would do for him, so he would not be forgotten. 

Today I wrote a letter and included in a large envelope of more family photos that i came across when I moved again recently.  I only keep the photos from our life together. His personal family photos may be better appreciated by Bob and his sister.  I don't think they still realize what a special person GW was.  He was a great man, who loved me until the end. I was the person who cared for him at the end of illness by myslef.  I was more than a "plus one"  I was his partner.  I was sad to let him go when he passed.  But it was worth it to know he shared his life with me. Sadly,  I am certain that they won't respond or even say thank you.