When I started going through the rituals I do before writing, my iTunes list popped up. Some song came up automatically, I think it was Dream On, by Aerosmith. That song always sends me into an introverted mood. The next was Sad Lisa, by Cat Stevens.
This song brought me back to Brian.
I have written a few of these letters of memorial for important people in my life---kinda wish I didn’t feel the need. It seems like the only profound emotions I have are lose and sorrow.
Working at Doc’s brought out some of my less noble traits. My issues were not the fault of Doc’s, I have always had them. My addictions and narcissism would have come through at some point with or without that place. There were, and still are I presume, some very special people there. People who enabled me to keep ahold of the core person I am.
Brian was one.
I cannot say that he was a close friend, though I wish I could. He was loyal and kind and even powerful in his own way. He could always come back with a smart-ass remark and a smile while he did it. How could anyone be mad at him? When talking to him, one knew that he was all about you. That guy got more women under his arm than most straight guys! (NOT FAIR!) Yet through all his joviality, there was strength and wisdom.
When he came out to me, I was going through some trivial shit with the mother of my daughter, another in a long list. Brian listened to my rants and meaningless drivel without any judgement. I don’t even remember what he said, or what the problem was, yet I remember feeling better about my life. Then he said I needed to hear what he had to say. I was able to step above my self serving morass and really listen to him.
Truth is, I don’t really remember the details of the conversation, just the feelings. Honesty was the strongest among them. Pain too. After work that night, we went to the Chattahoochee River and talked for hours. We just sat there and talked.
Working at Doc’s and being gay, must have been difficult, way beyond my understanding. Yet he felt safe enough to tell me. I wonder if I was one of the first guys to know. I’ll never know. I have never talked about this, even after it was common knowledge; he asked that of me.
During my worst times, when some one I needed to trust was betraying it, thus destroying the silly dream world I was trying to build, Brian was there as a friend, a confidant, yes even as a shoulder to lean on. He gave me permission, if you will, to stop being an idiot.
Now iTunes has queued Meatloaf’s Heaven Can Wait. No it can’t. Heaven, or whatever, has taken a good man. Though I have not been in touch with him for a very long time, I always knew if I needed to, I could always reach out to him. Now I cannot. My world has been profoundly shaken. I know that I will always be able to reach out/in to memories and feel him, but he is gone forever and always. My world has been profoundly shaken.
