My 22nd Anniversary, A Week Late - Wednesday, August 17, 2011

I've always been one of those people who believes that every milestone and time-honored tradition deserves a fairly appropriate amount of pomp-n-circumstance yet with the deluge of emotional and mental anxiety that I experienced on a daily basis from being here in Connecticut literally draining the living crap outta me it's extremely difficult for me to focus on writing while being out here in the middle of BFE (Bum-Fucked-Egypt), I mean, Connecticut. And although the following doesnt mean it's the end of the world, I am somewhat ashamed by the fact that it's now an entire week PAST the actual date; but, rather than sulk, rather than let it get me down, I'm gonna try write, I need to try to write, because to let sucha special anniversary such as this go by without giving proper credence to it is akin to pretending that it never happened and it not only did happen, but it needs to be revered as one of the pinnacle points of my earthly existence. 

True, I've already broached the subject of this anniversary more than several times previously in this blog but it's one of those dates that needs to be validated not just by mere spoken words but also by the written word as well. For it was on August 10, 1989, that I was diagnosed as Hiv+ and to be brutally honest, I truly thought that like so many other members of my generation, I woulda been six-feet-under by now. But I'm not. And I'm not the only one. There are many more just like me out there, even folks who have been living with Hiv and AIDS even longer than me. I'm one of the many who are thankful to still be alive and as I posted on my Facebook homepage this past week, I hope to be around for another 22 years or until they find a cure - whichever comes first.

Speaking of Facebook, one of my friends from there shared with me that on this momentous occassion she secretly wished I woulda chosen August 10th of this year to come out all the way as an Hiv'er and reveal my true identity but that regardless, she'd always love and accept me for who I am. I can see her point, perhaps last week woulda been the ideal time but when I thought about it some more I said to myself "No, that date is specifically reserved - and preserved - in my personal history as a testament of a very tumultous time in my life. By the same token, it's also a date that represents the links between my past and my present. It was a time when my Jack was still alive, still battling like hell for his life but still always within my arms reach. So naturally, it's my memories that have ownership of that day - August 10th, 1989 - nothing more, nothing less.

Naturally on that date a whole floodgate of memories come into my mind but every year that goes by, there are always certain ones that dominate my thoughts. Now that doesnt mean that I am sad or morose on that day, quite the contrary - thanks to life, thanks to being alive, I can reminisce and savor any or all of those memories if I choose to do so. Granted, they may vary from year to year but that's one of the best parts about being alive - I can still remember them. This year there are 2 particular memories that stand out the most for me.

Actually, the 1st memory is more of an admission of truth than anything else to myself and to my fellow Hiver's/PWA's of yesterday and today, and that is this - I've been around long enough, I've survived long enough to know that it's okay for me to share, as well as let go of, all the anger that I had when I first found out I was Hiv+. Angry because I have the disease? Perhaps a little bit but it is so much more than that. I was angry because unlike alotta Hiv'ers out there, I never had the chance to let it all sink in and mourn my own individual mortality like many people did. My lover was dying and at the time we found out about my Hiv+ status, there was no time for either of us to deal with it, no time for me to get rip-roaring pissed off and scream at myself, as well as the rest of the world for that matter, no time to ponder the shoulda's, the coulda's or the woulda's. The only thing there was time for was to be strong for Jack and to give him my best - and that's exactly what I did.

Oh sure, we cried about it, we got upset, we got angry together and that was okay; but, the next day there was no picking up the pieces for me and saying "Oh rapture, today is a brand new day, aint it great to be alive?" No, I needed to take care of the person I loved more than anything else in the world and that's what I did. Have I ever regretted it? Absolutely not. But, I'd be a liar if I told anyone out there that I wasnt envious of all my peers who at that time were busy going about their daily lives of going to work, going out on the weekends, dancing to this-or-that new dance-track at the local club or local social fundraiser. You know, all those little daily things in life most of us take for granted - those are the things I missed out on. But still, being with my Jack, no matter what, well, that was a pretty hard act to follow.

That leads into the 2nd memory I've been thinking about a lot lately. A whole lot. And hey, that's not in the depressing sense either everyone. Remember, when we experience any kind or any degree of adversity in our lives, looking back on those happy memories are one of the key things that pull us through. Seriously. And that memory was one of the last moments that Jack told me how much he loved me.

Although I've always been a Coco-Cola person, the Pepsi company launched a free-concert series in the Santa Cruz Boardwalk/Amusement Park area back in the late 80's and one of the classic groups we got to see perform live at one of those free concerts was none other than one of my (actually, our) favorite girl groups - The Shirelles. Oh mannnnnn, I have never been much of a concert-goer, not ever, but boy, when I saw those ladies up on the stage and listened to all my favorites, I was in Heaven!! Hits like "Soldier Boy," "Will You Love Me Tomorrow?" "Mama Said" and one song that was actually one of Jack and I's songs "Baby It's You."

I'll never forget what it was like hearing the Shirelles sing that song. Jack and I looking up at the brightly lit stage that night, the flashing multi-colored lights of the ferris wheel, the other amusement park rides, and of course, the twinkling lights of the Boardwalk arcade. And the air that night...for an August night you woulda never thought the breezes of the Pacific ocean could be so cold but they most certainly were. That night was magic, it really was, Jack and I holding hands very firmly and as the song ended, hearing him say "You know it's true, baby, it is you." Even though his very life was beginning to drain away at that time, to hear him say those words to me, to look deep in my eyes as he said them and most of all, to know that he meant them from the bottom of his heart, well, that kinda feeling totally cancels any resentements that either of us coulda had at that time period in our lives together.

It's 2011 now and I still love the Shirelles and I'll always love Jack, I'll always carry him in my heart but from here on out I gotta keep doing what I've been doing - living life - so that I do indeed survive another 22 years or again, until a cure for AIDS is found - whichever happens first. Taking things one day atta time, keeping busy and keeping the good fight going. I wish I did know the true secret to my longevity but maybe this is definitely one of those times when one shouldnt look a gift-horse in the mouth, as they say. I've said it numerous times before and I shall say it again - as long as any and all of us has hope, even one tiny kernel of it, we got a lot because all it takes is that one single glimmer to set the world in motion. So to Life, I salute you with gratitude because even though the road hasnt always been easy, it's always been worth living. Thank you for reading.

Posted via email from Luctor Et Emergo