THE CIRCLE

THE CIRCLE’S UNBROKEN
BUT SMALLER

A Widow Bit – May 4, 2008

By Mary Koch

I appreciate that you, the circle of friends who read these weekly essays, are willing to walk a ways with me. This week our circle was reduced by one.

Jim, who died unexpectedly on Tuesday, was a friend of a friend, which made ours a relationship of mutuality. We were like two moons orbiting around our mutual friend, neither eclipsing the other.

I would run into Jim if I happened to be visiting our friend, and he would call if he knew our friend was visiting me. Like cousins, you might call us friends once removed. I will miss Jim and am saddened by his death, but my deep grief is for our friend, whose loss goes to the marrow.

Because Jim was almost compulsive about giving to others, I have many reminders of him in my home. If he saw an item that he thought I’d like, he’d buy it and send it to me via our friend, never allowing me to compensate him.

One time, the three of us were at a particular store, and Jim led me down an aisle to see something special.

“I would love to get this for you, but it’s just too pricey,” he sighed. We stood and looked at the piece of venerable pottery, agreeing it was perfect for my collection but too expensive. Much as I treasure all his gifts, I treasure most the memory of standing there with him for those few moments, mutually appreciating something lovely.

Death can be like an earthquake. There is the event itself, traumatic and destructive. Then there are the smaller aftershocks. For me, the first aftershock was looking at a telephone and knowing I’d never get another call from Jim.

That’s when you realize there was so much you could have, but never did talk about. Our conversations were pretty much just social banter. I regret that I never told Jim, in so many words, how greatly I admired him.

Because we were in the same age bracket, I had a pretty good idea of the difficulties he must have gone through as a young gay man. When I was a teen-ager, my circle of friends included a gay youth who ended his own life at age 17. That tragedy has made me ever alert to the bigotry and ignorance of those who misunderstand and make judgments about the mystery of sexuality.

As Jim lay dying in the ICU, I happened to be visiting our high school. Some students were observing a day of silence in support of gay, lesbian and transsexual youth. Their reasoning was that these young people have no voice in our culture, but are forced into silence to cloak who they are.

Jim has lost his voice permanently, but he was part of the force that finally began breaking through that wall of bigotry. His courage, displayed in the way he lived his everyday life, speaks loud and long for those who are destined to travel a similar path.

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