Exchange on the street, on my walk to work:
Man walking towards me: “SIR! DO YOU LIKE WWF WRESTLING??”
Me: “Um, no.”
Hedwig has been on repeat on my CD player at work (quietly) since I bought it this week on payday. (I know I am seriously behind on this phenomenon, forgive me.) I’m almost afraid to shut it off or change it, like something terrible would happen if I did. I bet she’d like that.
A lawyer working (volunteering?) on behalf of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force emailed me with some suggestions of people/groups to contact regarding the discrimination against my mother’s partner. I’ll just take each step carefully, and see where it leads me.
Cute bodybuilder boy has been fielding each of my fly balls as I try to figure out ways NOT to get naked with him (am I a twisted soul, or what?) My latest attempt was to inform him of my HIV status. He wrote back, “We talked about that before I think, I am + too. ;)” Silly me. It seems I have a date tomorrow night. I need a haircut and a new body by tomorrow. Any suggestions?
Coincidentally, a package arrived from Lee yesterday. A framed photo of my mother, her dog and her cat under each arm, smiling so wide. The same photo that was on the alter during her service, the one I couldn’t look at for very long. In her card, Lee writes that she’s received well over 150 cards from friends, strangers, co-workers, etc, expressing their sympathy. The fact that so many people thought so highly of her makes me proud, makes me want to emulate her, makes me angry that she’s just…gone.
I had worried that without my mother as the glue holding our odd little family together, my brother and I would drift away from Lee and her kids. But as we talked on the phone yesterday, I sensed a connection that was new, that was raw. She said the hardest days came after the house emptied of family and friends and she was there, alone. I told her about me crying as I watched the Olympics, which made her cry. Right or wrong, our new connection is the bitter, sharp-edged absence of my mother.