Going to Say Goodbye
Well, everything worked out OK and i made it out here to SF about 1230 Thurdsday afternoon. i called and everyone was meeting at Dad and joe's apartment. It was strange pulling up to the house...i had remembered instinctively where to go, though it had been a year and a half. joe was there with Dad's best friend, JoeM, and joe's old roommate from NYC, Charlie. It was strange...we knew each other like brothers, though we had never spoken before last Saturday; brought together for our love for Daddy and the love He had for us.
It was strange being back in that apartment...if those walls could talk...we'd all be locked away! It was interesting how they had redecorated the place and gotten all of their stuff in that small 2-BR apt...especially with one BR being the play room. We talked, looked at pictures...really just fell into talking like we'd known each other for years.
About 230, we went to the home. It was strange seeing Him laying there. The makeup made him look too ashen...but that always seems to be the case. But it was true...He was gone. i felt empty and small. i didn't cry.
We busied ourselves there...talking to friends of His that showed up...the gay ones...the ones with the really GOOD stories. The family had been there in the morning and wouldn't return until 5 for the service.
The service was SRO; just the way He would like it...a sold out house. It was good to see so many of His friends there...hell, He knew pretty much EVERYONE in His work with the Bears of SF and on various gay community projects. It was nice to meet fellow LJ-ers pauliebearsf (who i had chatted with when i lived in Germany and who was Dads roommate when i came out after coming back to the states in '01), drewbearsf (the owner of the crotch my head is in in the infamous puppytail group shot from Dore Alley a couple years ago) and redbackfur(who i never got to meet before even though he lived just around the corner from Dad). joe got to speak first and it was a good speech. He told how Dad had played the butcher in "Fiddler On The Roof" and His big number was "To Life!" and how fitting it was. He wanted to celebrate the joy that Daddy brought into all of our lives. He didnt' pull any punches when it came to the love that they had for each other either.
Everyone that spoke went on about how He always stage managed everything and how He could fix just about anything. joe got a good one in by saying that He was "my MacGyver...He could do amazing things with Duct Tape and had 101 uses for a Ziploc bag." Everybody laughed...the straight folks at the overt humor of it...our side knowing how much He like mummification and breath control. It really broke the tension and encouraged others to tell their own stories. His son and oldest daughter spoke...the ex and other 3 kids did not. joe cried...i was there to put my arm around him. A lot of people cried.
After the service, the straight folks went back to the ex's house (that Dad had built and that she had screwed Him out of in the divorce). The gay folks and others on "our side" were meeting back at the apartment. We talked and comforted each other. Everybody was heading out, but i couldn't bring myself to leave. i kept looking over at Him...like i expected Him to wake up and say "Hey boy", like He always did. Everyone was at the door. i went over to Him one last time. i touched His arm. i could feel the tears starting to well up...but i didnt cry. i took a flower from the spray. i put my hand on His arm, blew Him a final kiss and turned to leave.
i love You, Daddy...goodbye.
There were about 20 to 30 people milling around the apartment. The big joke was that the service was sponsored by Starbucks (joe is a district manager for them). They had sent a big floral arrangement and there were big cardboard jugs of coffee at the house. Product placement IS everything nowadays. i told my favorite Daddy stories to a group who could appreciate them and listened to theirs. i stayed until everyone had gone and helped joe and Charlie clean up. We are getting together on Saturday with Dad's old friend JoeM to go through His things with joe...instead of leaving them for joe to go through by himself after a month or so...and have to go through all of this all over again. i let joe and Charlie go to bed and headed over the bridge into SF to my room.
"...the Castro is a lonely place..."
This morning i got up and eventually made my way down to the Castro. i remembered the first time He brought me down here on my first visit...He put His arm around me and we walked down the street hand-in-hand. It may not seem like much these days, but i'd never gotten to do that in public before...i didn't DARE. But i was His boy...i was safe. i walked up to the top of the Castro, under the giant Pride flag, and stopped in at Orphan Andy's diner for brunch. Whenever i would come out to visit, He would often have to work most days, so i would take the BART and Muni into town and meet Him up here for lunch. There is a Chevron station on Market at Castro. He would come driving up in His tractor-trailer and i'd be standing there on the corner waiting for Him like a little kid. My face would light up when i saw it. A lot of times we would eat at Orphan Andy's. This time i was sitting there alone and i could look out the window and see the empty curb. His truck was not there. i could feel the tears welling up...but i didn't cry.
i spent the next couple of hours wandering around the two blocks of the Castro trying to do some xmas shopping with varying degrees of success. i picked up a magazine and stopped in at the world's crusiest Starbucks and had an eggnog latte. i passed late-90s bear porn icon Jack Radcliffe on the street; he smiled at me and i smiled back...he seems to have aged well...many of the gays on the street there did not seem quite so lucky.
i was tired of that, so...now what? i went for a drive. i just started north over the hills...DAMN, they got steep up there. It never ceases to amaze me...and you have to park at a 90-degree angle...i'll be that when they open their car doors, they feel like they're going to fall out. i wound up driving north across the Golden Gate bridge. i stopped at the overlook at the far side. It was really just to take a leak; the fog blocked out the view. i went further north until traffic got thick. Fuck that...i turned around and went back into town for more hill-climbing. i went up Telegraph Hill and down Lombard, the world's crookedest street. i stopped by Mr S Leather, ostensibly for more xmas shopping...their new store is very nice...i think SOMEbody has been to Mr B's in Amsterdam...though Mr B's is still nicer, if smaller. i picked up a sandwich at a deli and came back here.
So here i sit in a small room at the Ramada watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas"...i could listen to "Linus and Lucy" over and over again.
i don't know why i won't let myself cry. i know i don't have to be "the strong one"...nobody does. Maybe i've cried enough for the ghosts of the past. It'll probably hit me some morning at about 3am.
i'll be fine.
