The first girl I dated died earlier this week. A Face Book friend sent me a message late the other night, right before I was going to shut down the computer and go to bed. Xxxx was diagnosed with leukemia in February and died September 1st. Not even eight months. Life is balanced on such a slender thread, ain't it?
I'll be 49 in about a couple months, Xxxx was a little more than a year younger than me. She would have been 48 in November. That alone is a stark enough reminder of my mortality. Among my main memories of her are when I crashed her Sweet 16 party (with a bit of a buzz), learning to appreciate the tastes of foods not slathered in salt and sugar (she was ahead of her time with that)...when I left for college and was missing her, I wrote a song that I still think is among my signature compositions. I'm not sure how I'll react listening to that song next time I cue that song up.
One other thing she taught me was tolerance. Maybe she is the answer to the question I posed in my second diary - "How did I end up a liberal person?". I think Xxxx taught me that, or at least opened my eyes to a lot of issues, during a turbulent time in my family's history.
My late sister shocked my family by not looking at a person's skin tone when choosing who to date. It was a revolutionary concept in my family that caused waves from when I was old enough to notice just about anything. She had her only child with a black man, and basically that event tore my family apart (the same sister had a disastrous marriage to a white man, so no one could solely blame race for her relationship problems). I recall once, on a double date of sorts with my sister and the father of her son (I don't know what to call him - they never married, and a few months after my nephew was born he tried to kill my sister with a large kitchen knife)...
Well, my sister and my nephew's father were talking in a way that was making me very uncomfortable. I was expressing displeasure to Xxxx, well because up to that point in my life all I had really been exposed to was bigotry and racism. And it was showing.
And Xxxx said "How can she help who she loves?".
How can she help who she loves?
And I think that simple question shook my soul. Even though LGBT issues would not be at the forefront of the news for a long time yet, it was the early 1980's and my sister and nephews father worked at a large medical center just north of NYC. They were already aware of this new disease, one affecting gay men and intravenous drug users, and the fear that surrounded it. And I soon saw that fear blossom into hate, and that hate infected the church my family went to. Several years later, when I was dating my eventual first wife, a 16 year old family friend died in a swimming pool accident. I did not react well listening to the sermon at his funeral service, and subsequently told my mom I would not go to church with her any more. My mom blamed my ex, but the process was started (at least catalyzed) by Xxxx, by that simple question.
I was bitter when Xxxx broke up with me, it was right after she graduated from High School, after my Freshman year at college. My brother in law gave me the best advice/comfort, and there was a bit of a laugh a couple years later when I started dating my ex-wife: she and Xxxx were dating the same guy simultaneously in the intervening year. My ex was a little exasperated with Xxxx at that point of her life.
My FB friend informed me that she was married for the last 11 years, and had no kids, loved animals, loved her friends and family. I found her FB page, sent one of the sisters a message (she may never see it, but whatever), and posted a couple comments. In a lot of ways, Xxxx's life looked very similar to mine - re-married the last 13 years, no kids of my own (but step kids). Of the four people in my sister's AMC Eagle on that "double date" some 31 years ago, I'm the only one still living. I am chilled a bit that neither Xxxx nor my sister saw their 50th birthdays. My sister, well maybe in hindsight her death was not such a surprise. But Xxxx's too early death would have not been on my list of prognostications.
As if there's anyway to predict that.
Life hangs by such a slender thread...
***
Daylight faded
As summer wanes
And a frantic day draws to a close
Memories retrieved
From a musty box
Hidden from view in the depths
Of our experience
And what of our experience remains
Except the memories of those we touch