Saturday, June 30, 2012

Saying Good-Bye to Two Friends


On Tuesday, I shared with you my friendship with Robert and Andrew. Both of them died in late 1991. Andrew first—in a Minneapolis hospital—and then Robert in the VA hospital.
            Andrew’s parents were with him when he died. They had his body cremated and carried his ashes back home where they buried him in the family plot.            
            After Andrew’s death, Robert was admitted to the VA hospital where he died in a few short days. When I visited him there, he shared memories of his life. He especially like to talk about the trip he and Andrew had taken together in the past spring to Winona, Minnesota.
            I still have the photo of them on the bluff above the relentless flow of the Mississippi. Andrew sits on a rock wall, his face alit with laughter. Robert stands beside him, clearly pleased with the joke he’s just told. A spring breeze ruffles their hair as it, too, meanders through their lives.


A bluff in Winona, Minnesota, overlooking the Mississippi.

            That time away had refreshed both of them and perhaps helped them live longer. But when Andrew died, Robert grieved deeply and simply let go of any desire to live without his companion of so many years.           
            His parents came to the VA hospital. His mother wept; his father simply stood there, unsure of what to do. Clearly, his fear of the disease kept him from touching Robert’s hands or kissing his cheek or smoothing the hair back from his fevered forehead. He hovered near the hospital bed, caught in his own dilemma of whether to embrace his son. He never did while I was there, but I’ve always hoped that when alone with his son, he did clasp him close and assure him of love.
            Robert's mother was both gracious and generous when I visited him in the hospital. She encouraged me to stand close to the head of the bed. I held his hands, brushed my fingers against his tangled hair, and sang the songs he’d enjoyed when Andrew had played them on the piano. He responded with a whisper of a smile, and his mother smiled tremulously at me.
            And then it was over. Robert and Andrew were together again. A year later, they were with me in spirit when I stood before a group of friends at the Stillwater Library and signed copies of A Cat’s Life: Dulcy’s Story.
            One of the things Robert, Andrew, Mary, and I had talked about at our prayer meetings was the possibility of that book being published. They were delighted when Crown offered me a contract in July of 1991. Had they been alive, Robert and Andrew would have done a little living-room jig in their joy for me on the book’s publication day.
            I dedicated A Cat’s Life to the three of them: Robert, Andrew, and Mary.
            Volunteering at the St. Paul-Ramsey Medical Center was one of the most important things I’ve ever done. I made three good friends—Lon, Robert, and Andrew—and I met many other men whose courage touched my life.
            All of this started with a Newsweek article about the “epidemic” of AIDS. We never know the moment when grace will touch our lives. Because of that, we sometimes miss the opportunity of growth in the enduring human spirit.
            I shall forever be grateful that I read that article and that I was able—for some unknown and inexplicable reason—to respond to the promptings deep down within me that said, “You can do something about this. Will you?”
            In “doing something” for those I met at the AIDS clinic, I did something for myself. And isn’t that the way life always is? That when we reach out to others, others reach out to us and we are twice, thrice, blessed. There is blessing both in the giving and the receiving. And who is to say, which is which?
            Peace.

Photo from Wikipedia.

47 comments:

  1. Your kind heart led you in the right direction. I am glad that you were able to help people whom many dismissed at not worthy of our compassion. The fight is ongoing and although the dread disease is far more manageable now there are still gay men suffering ostracism in sections of society.

    With admiration and respect,

    Friko

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    1. Dear Friko, it's so true that gay men still suffer ostracism. And here in the United States so many people are against the while idea of gay marriage. But I think that more and more, they are realizing that the bond between two men or two women can be strong and lasting and that it's deserves the ceremony of spoken commitment in front of witnesses that is called a marriage. Peace.

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  2. You know, I am enjoying your writing. Living with a spouse who is dying, this stuff hits home and is comforting. I don't think I will pass a few days after he does though. Unfortunately I am in for the long haul. Your journey has been a good one. THank you.



    Mimi Torchia Boothby Watercolors

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    1. Dear Mimi, I am so sorry to learn that your spouse is dying. How difficult these days must be for you. Thank you for saying that these postings of mine bring you some comfort. Peace.

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  3. We are all "different" from one another (after all, we are NOT clones) but deepdown we are the same--human. Why do some of us hate or fear those who are outwardly different? Where is the ONENESS you speak of in them?

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    1. Dear Fishducky, you know that for me Oneness means the inter-connectedness of all of us, living and dead. The good--or the bad--that I do touches others. It's that idea of a butterfly in the far distant land that brings about the rain shower in Missouri. The idea of the seven degrees of separation. We are all connected.

      But many people, for so many different reasons, do not recognize this. And so it is our task I think to show Oneness in action. Then perhaps, but only perhaps, those who do not cherish Oneness may open themselves to it.

      Peace.

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  4. I could not possibly say it better than Friko just did.
    Also, when you end a post with Peace it isn't a reflex or throwaway, you seem to live it the best you can.

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    1. Dear Mary, I am always so glad when you stop by. Thank you for leaving a comment today.

      I've known so many days of turmoil and distress in my life from the time I was five years ago. And so many days of hallucination and also of Meniere's that the word "Peace" says something very real to me. The cove after the storm; the sweet cool water of the spring after the long trek.

      And so I say the word hoping that all of us will find that interconnectedness that I mention in my response to Fishducky's comment above. It is in the realization of our Oneness--or so I think--that we and the world will find peace.

      Peace.

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  5. I have been away from the blogosphere for a little while. Coming back to a beautiful post like this has touched my heart. Thank you so much for being you, and for sharing the caring and courageous person you are.

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    1. Dear EC, welcome back and thank you for stopping by here today. I hope all is well with your "smaller half"! I haven't read any blogs for the last three days myself and so I need to catch up! Peace.

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  6. Beautiful post. The bluff looks so peaceful. And I love " There is blessing both in the giving and the receiving. And who is to say, which is which?" . I have come to see the wisdom of these words in the last weeks as my family faced adversity. Great food for thought, Dee,

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    1. Dear Kate, I'm saddened to learn that your family is facing adversity. And yet I think that through your blog I can say that you are a strong family, bonded by your love for one another. For myself, about the only way I've ever gotten through hard times is a step at a time. One step and then a respite. Peace.

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  7. I think of my own friend who died of AIDS, Robert. I miss him still today, more than twenty years after he died. He was a gentle soul who influenced me in many ways. I did volunteer for Hospice for two years, but it took so much out of me, and I couldn't continue. I am so glad you did go on much longer. Hugs to you, Dee. You bring tears to my eyes, but they are tears of gladness for having met you.

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    1. Dear DJan, like you, I miss Robert and Andrew and Lon.

      Both you and I volunteered for about the same amount of time. You did it two years and I did it for only three. Then, like you also, I just wore out.

      Peace.

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  8. Thanks so much for sharing this, Dee. What a wonderful gift you all were for each other in so many ways. They touched your life deeply and I can hear the love in your remembrances. :):)

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    1. Dear Rita, I did love those three men. I still do. They were a great grace in my life. Peace.

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  9. Those men were grateful to have you. I know they were. God led you to Newsweek.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, yes, we just never know when Oneness will reach out to us. For me, that happened when I opened that Newsweek magazine to its lead article. I was sitting on the side porch of my Stillwater home. How could I know that a few moments later, my life would begin to change? Mystery upon mystery. Peace.

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  10. I am so glad you were there for them when they so desperately needed a kind heart beside them. I also think it must have eased their parents' hearts to have you there, setting the example. You last line is spot on.

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    1. Dear Shelly, I know that Andrew's mother was glad for my friendship with her son. She and I kept in touch for several years after his death. His dad died ten years after Andrew. Peace.

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  11. What a terribly sad yet beautiful story about Robert and Andrew. In a way it was fitting they passed so close to each other.
    Thank goodness you were there as a nonjudgmental friend.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti, I was truly privileged that they chose me as a friend. Peace.

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  12. The words of St. Francis of Asissi are so true: in giving we receive. In taking the risk of doing, of opening your heart and giving so much of yourself to those in such need, you were blessed with some incredible friends who helped you to realize your dream of the Dulcy book even as you helped them live through illness and tragedy. This is such a touching, sad and uplifting post, Dee!

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    1. Dear Kathy, oh! yes! they did help me realize my dream of getting Dulcy's book published. They were so supportive, as was Mary. And wanted only the best for me. Peace.

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  13. I had always thought that the blessing was always in the giving, but now in the fall of my life, I know it is also in the receiving.

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    1. Dear Arlene, yes, that understanding has come to me in the fall of my life also. It came when I had Meniere's and had to ask for ongoing help for really the first time in my life. It was then I learned about the interplay of receiving and giving. Peace.

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  14. Life's lessons. They are always sitting right in front of us, aren't they, Dee? I have appreciated what you have shared and taught in the sharing of these posts and of Robert and Andrew and all the truth and understanding your story of them holds. Thank you. I need to cut this short as I'm on my way out the door, but did want to say thank you for this. Penny

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  15. Dear Penny, yes--sitting right there in front of us. It's taken me so long to learn that and still I fret and stew and turn my back away from truths staring me in the face! Peace.

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  16. "We never know the moment when grace will touch our lives."

    Every time I come here, I feel so at peace in your wisdom. This is a beautiful story.

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    1. Dear Emily, and every time I go to your blog I feel the love you have for your family. Peace.

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  17. I've really enjoyed hearing about these special friends of yours, Dee. It has been heartwarming and heartbreaking! I'm sure you've often wondered how they might have benefitted from the drug protocols available today! My heart just breaks for the families that simply lost their sons during this time, struggling in the throes of loss and not finding comfort anywhere...it was, after all a "Gay Disease." I just can't imagine how it hurt to be dying, or watching your child die, all the time being stigmatized for the disease! But you were a comfort to all, and I can imagine to that one mother, you were a lifeline! I'm so glad you shared how they fit into Dulcy's story, too. Just amazing, Dee.

    On another quick note, your new book arrived at my home over the weekend! I'm looking forward to reading it...I thumbed through (but I had company) and I just love the way you've laid out the chapters. I can't wait to read it. Blessings, Debra

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    1. Dear Debra, Like you, I do wonder about the drug protocols of today and I'm grateful that they mean longer life for others with AIDS, but as I watch the news and read the papers, I know that there are still many people who judge gay men and lesbian women harshly and many still are threatened by the idea of gays marrying. There's still a distance to go with that prejudice.

      I hope you enjoy "Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cat & Their Humans." Thank you so much for ordering it. Peace.

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  18. We reap what we sow.. don't we, Dee. Thank God for compassionate people like you.
    The power of One.. definitely makes a difference.

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    1. Dear Pam, yes the power of One and Oneness. Peace.

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  19. I love the openness of your heart that allows you to be led to do what will bring peace to yourself and others. I know that your gifts of comfort for each of these men who needed acceptance were priceless.

    Love.

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    1. Dear Kari, thank you--you know, I hope, just how open your heart is to new ideas and to all those you meet. It's what of the wonders of who you are. Peace.

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  20. So wonderful that you had the courage to follow that prompting. As I've read about the volunteering, I so often thought about the blessing you received for helping so many others. Your closing paragraph said that beautifully. These postings are life changing. I know they have touched so many. You continue to be such a example of kindness. ;)

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    1. Dear Elisa, it's seems to me from reading your blog that you, yourself, are a great example of kindness. Peace.

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  21. Like Arlene, I think the blessing flows both ways. You have been doubly blessed, Dee, many times over.

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    1. Dear Susan, it does seem to me that any blessing flows both ways. Peace.

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    1. Dear Pearl, thank you. I need to visit your blog. I'll come over tomorrow. Peace.

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  23. Beautiful post in your usual remarkable way! I'm reading this at the end of my work day, and it warmed my heart. You are such a love.

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    1. Dear Stephanie, I'm glad this posting warmed your heart--I hope you had a nice cool drink in hand while you read! Peace.

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  24. The sadness of loosing a loved one can last a lifetime. Thank you for being a positive force in their lives, Dee.

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    1. Dear Pam, yes, a lifetime. I continue to grieve for so many loved ones who are gone now from my sight. But I do believe that we are connected in Oneness and that's comforting. Peace.

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