aids awareness day
today is AIDS awareness day.
i'd just like to take a minute to remember my cousin Brian. he wasn't a blood cousin, he was the son of a friend of my fathers, but i called him cousin and he called me that too.
we were both mixed racial, and he was probably 10 years older than me.
he was beautiful. i mean, he was drop-dead gorgeous. biiiiiiiig brown eyes, cafe-au-lait colored skin, hair in soft curls and cheekbones to die for.
he laughed and joked a lot. he was friendly, he was caring, he was loving.
he was creative and talented too! he had his own little fashion house, he was starting to get orders for the bigger stores, when he fell ill.
he died when i was 15 of AIDS.
when i was 16, we went to his memorial. it was in a little church down in the Village. the people there were all artists and were vibrant and full of life. his partner was a dancer, and danced the most beautiful solo i have ever seen, his strong body moving in the soft glow of the church-light, i imagined how beautiful they must have been together, him all chocolate brown and all muscle, and Brian so light and frail.
other people sang and danced, they read poetry. they opened up the floor for comments and i made one, surprising my family. surprising his friends, i was the youngest person there.
when i was 18 i directed the play "As Is", a play about AIDS. my friends and not my friends starred in it. everyone who performed or participated, had a friend or a family memeber who had died of AIDS, including the straight boys who willingly played gay men in love and dying, one of them, a junior and only 17 years old.
we dedicated it to our dead.
there wasn't a dry eye in the house.
good bye Brian, i still love you, and i still miss you, and i am still thankful that you were in my life. i'll always be thankful, and i'll always miss you, my dear cousin and friend.
n.
i'd just like to take a minute to remember my cousin Brian. he wasn't a blood cousin, he was the son of a friend of my fathers, but i called him cousin and he called me that too.
we were both mixed racial, and he was probably 10 years older than me.
he was beautiful. i mean, he was drop-dead gorgeous. biiiiiiiig brown eyes, cafe-au-lait colored skin, hair in soft curls and cheekbones to die for.
he laughed and joked a lot. he was friendly, he was caring, he was loving.
he was creative and talented too! he had his own little fashion house, he was starting to get orders for the bigger stores, when he fell ill.
he died when i was 15 of AIDS.
when i was 16, we went to his memorial. it was in a little church down in the Village. the people there were all artists and were vibrant and full of life. his partner was a dancer, and danced the most beautiful solo i have ever seen, his strong body moving in the soft glow of the church-light, i imagined how beautiful they must have been together, him all chocolate brown and all muscle, and Brian so light and frail.
other people sang and danced, they read poetry. they opened up the floor for comments and i made one, surprising my family. surprising his friends, i was the youngest person there.
when i was 18 i directed the play "As Is", a play about AIDS. my friends and not my friends starred in it. everyone who performed or participated, had a friend or a family memeber who had died of AIDS, including the straight boys who willingly played gay men in love and dying, one of them, a junior and only 17 years old.
we dedicated it to our dead.
there wasn't a dry eye in the house.
good bye Brian, i still love you, and i still miss you, and i am still thankful that you were in my life. i'll always be thankful, and i'll always miss you, my dear cousin and friend.
n.