A sad boy weeps; thoughts on memorial services …

Hi, friends and readers:

If you follow this blog, you know I try to keep things light here. There’s enough sorrow in this world; we face it every day. My blog’s intended to provide readers with a respite from the troubles in their lives. Aside from getting pissed off and ranting about persecution of gay youth in our schools and in athletics, I avoid serious discussions here. But ….

I came across tonight’s photo post, not long ago, and saved it for the right moment to post. I find the photo both touching and sad.  I think it’s a moving image, don’t you?

Today, I attended a memorial service for a friend’s dad, a man who served as my Little League coach when I was a boy. He helped me get my first law-clerking job. And when he learned I was gay, at a time when it wasn’t socially acceptable in many circles, he welcomed me into his home and let me know, in his own way, that my queerness wasn’t a problem for him. I was still the same old Martin: the kid who sucked at baseball, but tried his best anyway.

When I was younger, I used to avoid memorial services like the plague. But now I understand their importance, and I try to go whenever possible, when a person who meant something to me has passed. Today’s service wasn’t too bad. My friend addressed the crowd — it was standing room only — and he did a great job. I was proud of him for showing his emotions in front of two hundred people. I’m glad he knew I cared enough to come.

I’m home now, with my boyfriend. We’ll share a quiet meal and perhaps watch a little football. It’s windy outside tonight, on our little island. Too windy to go for a walk on the beach. Have a peaceful Sunday night, friends.

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