Six months plus a day

Approximately 12 hours ago, I was crying my eyes out as it was exactly six months to the minute that he died—7:45pm on Christmas Eve 2010. Minutes later, my great friend Donna called to check in on me, as she knew I'd be feeling down. I told her I already had a few crying spells throughout the day. What I didn't realize as I was speaking with her, was that as soon as I hung up from the call, the tears started up again—big time. An hour later, my best friend Tom called, as he also knew that I'd be feeling down. A group of us, including Donna and Tom, had been together the night before as we took in the new musical Tales of the City, based on Armistead Maupin's books from the 1970s. Before I had gotten to the theater, I had taken BART downtown as it's always difficult to find parking, so I opted for the easier parking situation at the Glen Park BART station and rode downtown instead. Because BART can be very efficient, I got downtown earlier than I had anticipated, so I walked around the Union Square area doing some window shopping. I then decided to just sit in the newly revamped Square and people-watch until it was time to walk the two blocks to the theater. I chose one of the newer tables & chairs area that includes an umbrella on the table. As I sat there watching people, I noticed what I perceived to be an elderly gay couple walk across the open area of the square. And what do they do? They beeline directly towards me and sit at the very next table. As soon as their conversation started, it confirmed my suspicion that they were indeed a couple. And naturally, their very presence set the tears flowing, as I was already missing Dennis immensely, knowing that he would have enjoyed the night out with our friends as much as I was anticipating it. I wanted to ask them how long they'd been together and tell them about Dennis, but I just could not get my crying to stop so I never did talk to them. Just before they left, I heard one of them say, "It's about time we head over and meet our friends and get to our seats." I naturally assumed they were heading to the same play where I was headed.

I was the sixth person in our party of seven to reach the theater, and found everyone standing in front of the theater—our meeting point. After hugs and kisses were exchanged, I said, "I just can't believe my luck. BART got me down here early so I've been people watching at Union Square. These two elderly gay guys come strolling across the square and sit at the table next to me, starting my tears flowing. I was already missing Dennis because I really wanted him here tonight with all of us, and of course I broke down. I'm not even here yet, and the evening has started on the wrong foot." Both Tom and Donna hugged me as the tears started again.

"Take a deep breath and relax, Rick," Tom said. "We all know what you're going through and we're here for you."

It took a while, but I finally got my emotions under control. Peter arrived about then, so all seven of us were now in attendance. We headed into the theater to find our seats. The musical was very entertaining and I think we all enjoyed it, even though it was about three hours long—the fastest three hours I've spent in a long time. I couldn't believe it was after eleven o'clock when we got out.

Friday morning arrived and I knew it was going to be a trying day. It's never taken much to get me crying, and that morning was no exception. I had many emotional moments throughout the day, minor compared to the major breakdowns I suffered through later that evening. But here it is, Saturday morning, and I'm still plugging away. There are still so many more moments that are going to happen to me throughout the rest of the year. I wonder at times how I'm ever going to get through them, but get through them I do. I leave in two weeks for Michigan to attend his memorial that his sisters are having, and while I'm looking forward to the trip, I know that Kleenex stock will probably hit an all-time high. I just have to remember: one day at a time.