Believe it or not, I've actually gotten slack for the amount of times that I've written in this blog about my deceased partner Jack, who died a few months after I was diagnosed Hiv+ in August, 1989. Some people have asked "Well, you've gotten over him, right?" or "How many more times are you gonna write about him?" Rather than chastise folks about such insensitive questions, my answers to those questions havent changed much in the last 22 years. Yes, I have gotten over his death and have gone onward with my life; but, that doesnt mean that I am not allowed to share pieces of my life with him, precious memories, gems of wisdom and any and everything about him with others whenever I'd like to because quite frankly, I have that right, I do have co-ownership of those years we had together.
As with any piece that I write in this blog, hey, no ones holding a gun to any of your heads and forcing you to read every single word I write. Regarding my recollections of the life I shared with Jack, a question I might ask the next time anyone approaches me with either of the aforementioned questions is this - you've never ever really truly been in love before, have you? Because if you have, if you have been fortunate enough to have been blessed with a true love the way Jack and I were, then you watched the one person you loved more than anything else in the world slip away from you while they lay dying in your arms, well, let's just say that I dont think any of you would be asking such questions.
I thought about Jack a coupla mornings ago, as I was psyching myself into calming down after one of my most recent intense asthma attacks. Let me tell you, it was quite a humdinger of one too. As it was ending I sat down on the edge of my bed and actually started laughing because it reminded me of how Jack used to respond to me whenever I'd wake up with a bad attack. I'd immediately jump outta our bed and race for one of my inhalers and he'd rustle a bit, rub his eyes into focus and yell out "Where'd ya go, Brenda!?!?" He always use to make me busta gut whenever he'd say that cause he always use to say to me "Honey, after every single attack, you always sound exactly like Brenda Vaccaro!!" That was a standing joke between us for the longest time and looking back on those years, the only regret I've ever had about those days is that I shoulda stopped smoking back then, not until many years later like I did. Oh well, it always took a helluva lot for us smokers to get to quit because come hell-or-high water, our cigarettes would be the last thing in the world we'd ever consider sacrificing, that's for sure. Nowadays I'm glad I did quit cause if I hadnt, I dont think I'd be here writing this piece this very moment. Dont worry you current smokers out there, I wont lecture you on how dangerous it is to continue smoking following an asthma diagnosis, you'll draw the line sooner or later on that one yourselves, though I do sincerely hope for your sakes and the sake of your loved ones, it's sooner. Back to Jack...
It's almost funny in a way, I've spent more years preserving and protecting Jack's honor and the legacy of who he was as an individual then the actual amount of years we were together - 4 short years - but by the same token I would not trade in those years for anything in the world because they were worth it, every single second of them. It is true, we human beings really are capable of loving someone for a lifetime - and then some.
The times I miss him the most would have to be those times when I get really sick. I cannot tell you how many times I've laid there in a hospital bed, staring outta the window and daydreaming about what it would be like if he were still here with me. In fact, whenever a nurse or medical aide has asked me during such moments what I'm thinking about I've merely answered "Oh, just someone special" and they'd always respond back "Oh, that's nice." Yes it is, it's actually quite nice because sometimes I literally get tired, even weary, of having to take care of myself, by myself, all the damn time. That unto itself can be extremely upsetting. It's actually during such moments that I also get angry too. Angry that Jack is gone and not here to take care of me the way I took care of him but then I remind myself of how rough things were during his last year of life, how so very sick he felt most of the time and how his once healthy, virile body just simply couldnt take anymore from the AIDS, from the constant infections, from the pneumonia, from it all. Wishing he were still here, especially with being as sick as he was, would not only be extremely selfish, but just downright wrong. He needed to be free from all the pain and all the sickness, he needed to leave, he really did. Nobody deserves to go through such suffering, not him, not anyone, not the millions of others this disease has claimed. So you hold onto the happy memories and you keep them close to you because for those times when things seem the darkest they'll ever get, those very same memories will flicker on and keep you warm, and keep you going strong.
Yet as much as I will always love Jack, as much as I will always preserve and keep precious the time we had together in that special place in my heart, I know for a fact that if he could speak to me this very moment, he'd tell me to keep looking for that special someone who could make me laugh and be there for me in ways that he can't be. He was really unselfish in that way and always always wanted what was best for me. Unconditional love, it truly is unlike anything else in this world and I wish it for all of us. I do indeed hope that my next special someone is right around the corner but until I run into him, I'm just gonna enjoy life for what it is and I hope all you single folks out there will too. Time to autopost this and head home. I hope everyone out there is having a good evening and as always, thank you for reading.
No comments:
Post a Comment