Dreams and Nightmares 12: That's What I Asked For


That’s What I Asked For


By the time our kids came along AIDS was moving like a tornado through our community. Sometimes people would get sick and die within a few weeks, and sometimes it would take a couple of years. More typically, we would hear of somebody getting sick and they would begin a slow decline in their physical health and their social connections, until they disappeared. Then there would be a funeral a few weeks later.
It happened to Kenny, one of my best friends. And then Steven, one of my roommates. And Christopher, Andrew’s partner. And Kevin, James, Carter, John, Donald, and others. Death was constant.
I don’t know how some people stood it. Sometimes they would suffer from something called Survivors Guilt, where they would have bad feelings about remaining behind after so many that we had known had died. I didn’t feel guilty, but sometimes I felt sadly lucky because I wasn’t sick and I was sad that so many had died.
Vince and I were preoccupied with our children, thankfully, while other gay men were in the midst of the health crisis, along with its personal toll. They were involved in political movements like Act Up, while we were changing diapers, toting our kids off to daycare, and then, later on, to school. Occasionally I felt guilty about not being involved as much as so many were, but our children took up a large portion of our time. In choosing children I had asked to be pulled away from that world, and it happened. Oh, I still had friends who died, but I was emotionally protected by the distractions provided by my sons. Sometimes I still wonder if I was wrong to choose that, when so many others had no choice.

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