Seems the men who taught me how to be a man have all died. Earmon was the last to go. Last Saturday he was playing basketball when he passed out on the court. The coroner said it was a heart condition. I think that might have been fitting for Earmon, to go so quickly and without warning. He would not have wanted the fuss and finality of a long, or even short illness.
Laura texted me today to say that she was going to go to the funeral home to see Earmon tonight. The same parlor where Mark Sammie and Paul were shown before their interments. It would have been nice to have been there for her... to have given her love... to have given her support... to have laughed out loud about the old days.
Paul was the one who showed me that being a man had nothing to do with sexual orientation. He also showed me the power of forgiving those who had taken advantage of one in their youth. Paul kept trying, but couldn't stay clean. He overdosed the week I moved to San Francisco. The first message I received in SF was from Laura telling me he had died.
Mark was the one who worked with me on a daily basis for almost four years. He was the one who put up with my immaturity and stupidity. He confided in me years later that he was never sure that I was going to make it or that he was going to be able to put up with me. We ended up loving each other as well as respecting each other. He told me once of a time when he was homeless and unable to score any drugs. He said he came up with a plan that sounded full proof for getting high. He got into the house of a friend and found the gun he knew to be hidden there. He took the gun and sat thinking over his plan and again, knew it to be a solid for getting high. It was, a good dope fiend idea. He pointed the gun at his foot, thought about it one last time, pulled the trigger, and then, he said, in the moment from the time he pulled the trigger until the bullet hit, he came to realize it was, actually, a bad idea, but he couldn't get his foot out of the way fast enough before the impact. We laughed and laughed. Mark died during a drug relapse by putting a shotgun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. To this day I wonder if he tried to get his head out of the way before impact.
Sammie was odd and determined. He taught me that it was OK to cry. It was OK to feel. And, that it was OK to be odd and determined. He taught me about the need to be social and the need to be socially savvy. He died of cancer. The moments before he died, it is reported that he said, "wow, there is Mark and Jesus, waving to me." I have no doubt Mark was, yet again, telling one of my brothers to follow a certain path... that he had been in the same place before and to follow him because he knows the way around.
Earmon was the one who taught me to not judge a book by its cover. He taught me to focus and stay close to those you trust. He taught me to stick by your responsibilities and make good on them. He taught me to keep my mouth shut and to not tell all of my business out on the street. He was a good man, and from all that I can tell, lived out this last years with honesty and hope.
I came out as a gay man at the age of twenty one. That was in 1980. I have lost more friends to the ravages of substance abuse than I have to the ravages of HIV. I see friends who abuse far too many substances without concern or care. I hate loosing the ones I love.
Bye Earmon. Tell Sammie to get out of the way and give Mark and Paul a big old hug from me.
Laura texted me today to say that she was going to go to the funeral home to see Earmon tonight. The same parlor where Mark Sammie and Paul were shown before their interments. It would have been nice to have been there for her... to have given her love... to have given her support... to have laughed out loud about the old days.
Paul was the one who showed me that being a man had nothing to do with sexual orientation. He also showed me the power of forgiving those who had taken advantage of one in their youth. Paul kept trying, but couldn't stay clean. He overdosed the week I moved to San Francisco. The first message I received in SF was from Laura telling me he had died.
Mark was the one who worked with me on a daily basis for almost four years. He was the one who put up with my immaturity and stupidity. He confided in me years later that he was never sure that I was going to make it or that he was going to be able to put up with me. We ended up loving each other as well as respecting each other. He told me once of a time when he was homeless and unable to score any drugs. He said he came up with a plan that sounded full proof for getting high. He got into the house of a friend and found the gun he knew to be hidden there. He took the gun and sat thinking over his plan and again, knew it to be a solid for getting high. It was, a good dope fiend idea. He pointed the gun at his foot, thought about it one last time, pulled the trigger, and then, he said, in the moment from the time he pulled the trigger until the bullet hit, he came to realize it was, actually, a bad idea, but he couldn't get his foot out of the way fast enough before the impact. We laughed and laughed. Mark died during a drug relapse by putting a shotgun in his mouth and pulling the trigger. To this day I wonder if he tried to get his head out of the way before impact.
Sammie was odd and determined. He taught me that it was OK to cry. It was OK to feel. And, that it was OK to be odd and determined. He taught me about the need to be social and the need to be socially savvy. He died of cancer. The moments before he died, it is reported that he said, "wow, there is Mark and Jesus, waving to me." I have no doubt Mark was, yet again, telling one of my brothers to follow a certain path... that he had been in the same place before and to follow him because he knows the way around.
Earmon was the one who taught me to not judge a book by its cover. He taught me to focus and stay close to those you trust. He taught me to stick by your responsibilities and make good on them. He taught me to keep my mouth shut and to not tell all of my business out on the street. He was a good man, and from all that I can tell, lived out this last years with honesty and hope.
I came out as a gay man at the age of twenty one. That was in 1980. I have lost more friends to the ravages of substance abuse than I have to the ravages of HIV. I see friends who abuse far too many substances without concern or care. I hate loosing the ones I love.
Bye Earmon. Tell Sammie to get out of the way and give Mark and Paul a big old hug from me.
Sorry for your loss hun xoxo
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