How does thirty years sound, Saoirse?

That’s about how long I’ve been waiting, depending on how you count.

In my story today about my husband’s memorial service, I mentioned who had attended.

I wasn’t obvious about it, but if you look, you’ll see no mention of my family.

That wasn’t an oversight. They didn’t come.

My father would have, but I asked him not to because he’d already flown in and out and missed a lot of work helping me with final arrangements and so forth. I didn’t want him to do it all over again.

Some of us wait a lifetime.

I have.

Written by

Writer. Runner. Marine. Airman. Former LGBTQ and HIV activist. Former ActUpNY and Queer Nation. Polyglot. Middle-aged, uppity faggot. jamesfinnwrites@gmail.com

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