A year after my mom passed away, I met someone. This person accepted me for me, and accepted the situation that I was in. I had a breakdown in class, and at the end my professor tried asking me if I was okay. I couldn’t really give him an answer and just walked out in tears. He chased me out of the classroom and offered to give me a hug. This was one of the kindest things someone has done for me. He was asking what was wrong and said that I wasn’t myself and said he cared. This was really nice. I told him about my mom, and he didn’t make me feel crazy for being upset. I was dating a guy that told me my mom had been dead for a year and to get over her and move on with my life. This was something that was really hard for me to date someone who wasn’t understanding of me. Don’t worry I am not with him anymore either.
Because of this nice gesture it started a foundation for friendship. It was nice to know someone who understood what I was going through. His mom hadn’t passed away at this point, but he had lost people and knew how awful it was.
His class was my favourite class, the semester before I used to sit in on his class. Me and some friends heard a class laughing really hard, so we went to check it out, we found some empty seats and joined the class. Everyday for the rest of that semester we went to his class, we were not his students, and we would leave in the middle when we had to go to our actual classes. He once screamed out did someone fart when we were leaving, he had no idea we weren’t his students, but I eventually told him about this. He never knew that people who never took his class, came to it, and enjoyed it. Once I passed his class, he always welcomed me and any previous students back. Sometimes the class would be about us. He said he had spies in his class so nobody better cheat on a test, this was true!
There was one day he didn’t look well. I mean he looked completely awful. He was sitting on a bench and he was not well. And I sat down, and I spoke to him. And this was the last conversation I ever had with him. I felt like I was needed to be there during this time. I am pretty sure I might have even told him to go see a doctor. We talked about a lot of things that day, and I was really afraid for his wellbeing. Not too long after that, I heard that he had a stroke and was in the hospital. It turns out when he was sick he actually had pneumonia. Not only did he have pneumonia and a stroke, but his Hodgkin’s Disease had come back. (He also had this as a kid, so did his brother, and his brother didn’t make it.) This was another reason we were connected in our friendship, I suffered with ulcerative colitis, still do. It is not the same disease, but can be extremely serious if not treated. He accepted me for me, and was understanding of my battles with my disease. This I respected so much.
Some time went by and I went by and I went to see if he was in class. He wasn’t, a professor that was taking over for him, knew me because he saw me the day I had my breakdown, told me he was in the hospital, and gave me an update on his status. Things got worse, he had a fall, and slipped into a coma. During his final days I went to the hospital quite a bit. I thought it was the least I could do with everything he did for me. I met some of his friends and we would play music for him. The nurses told us he could hear what we were saying just that he wasn’t responsive. So, we would talk to him, tell him stories, jokes and play music. He was probably glad when we would leave to get some proper sleep!
One day I didn’t make it to the hospital, I had a huge test for a class I was struggling with. And I was so scared that if I didn’t make it to see him that night he would pass away. The next morning, at breakfast, I got a phone call from his friend. He has passed away. This was absolutely heart breaking. I broke the news to other students about his passing.
At his funeral, it was a celebration! He always loved space, so he was buried in an astronaut suit. I didn’t get there soon enough to see it as it was hard on his parents and they then had a closed casket. During the funeral they did a drum circle. This was really healing, he loved music, he loved drumming, and they had his drum there that he had made. It was a wonderful experience to be a part of.
His parents had thanked me for coming to the services. I met his parents at the hospital. They were very nice people and had already been through a lot with losing their other child. And now they were losing their only living child. His mom was crying and said that she was going to die soon as well. She said you might go before me, but I am close behind and we will be together soon. This was so beautiful of his mom to say this. And it was lovely for her to call me his friend. There was a big age difference but that wasn’t what mattered. We had both been through something and we were there for each other, this is what friendship is.
After his passing, the news spread about him being HIV positive. This wasn’t something that surprised me given his body type and lifestyle choices. It wasn’t my place to judge him, but man did people judge him and say bad things. A few years ago, I looked at his wiki page, there were some really awful things writing on there that I couldn’t believe were being said. I had no idea if they were true, I hoped that they weren’t, but if they were, I had to think who was this man who is my friend that could of done these things, but how was he when we were friends, and what had changed him.
HIV isn’t a death sentence anymore like it used to be. The medicine has come a long way. You can live almost a normal-ish life compared to other chronic illnesses with it. It isn’t a disease for just gay people, anyone can get the disease, even the correct situations present itself.
I didn’t know everything my friend was going through, but I am glad he was my friend. I am glad he helped me, encouraged me, and inspired me. I can say he had one hell of a ride while living on this earth, and how amazing is it that he lived!
The Blogging Sarah 