(no subject)

I lost a friend a friend today. He was a brother to me, 'family of the heart". When I met him and his spouse 20 years ago, he was the quiet partner. His husband was one of those people who had so much presence that you never really noticed the smaller, quieter man moving around the room, smiling slightly, making sure that everyone was comfortable and had refreshements at hand. He just couldn't not be making other people comfortable. He became a widower just a couple of years ago and while we were grieving the loss of his spouse, we all worried that Chon would shrivel up and die away as so many long-married husbands or wives do. He surprised us all by finding new facets in himself, and then falling in love again. They married a little over a year ago. And now he is gone. He'd not been feeling well and went to take a nap - and never  woke up. We're assuming that they'll find it was a stroke or maybe a heart attack. He was so strong and vital that nothing else seems likely.

When at the end of a long day I'd be slogging into camp exhausted & grey-faced and others would, in their concern, yell at me to give up doing what was tiring me, to just quit, Wayne would quietly put together a plate of hot food and bring it to me, and sit with me and just chat... just chat. He'd tell me the camp gossip, and fill me in with news of the event, and his silent supportive understanding about the duty that drove me kept me going into the next day. He got it. Because his own integrity was so pure.

He cloaked a core of adamantine under a warm terry-cloth exterior - and his wicked humor always surprised me, sneaking out at the oddest moments and catching me breathless with stunned laughter.

And he was a Marine, damn it. Solid to the core. The pain of his loss never left him. He was in many years ago, when things were much different, and he resigned when he realised, after soul-searching and thought, that he really was gay - because Duty, that code that he understood so well, required it of him. He could have hidden it. He thought about doing that. But he told me that he couldn't do that and at the same time, live up to the oath that he had sworn to uphold the laws of our land and to live by the UCMJ. That, my friends - that is a man of honor.

Used to be, we'd share our (rare at times) bottles of pear cider with each other, bringing them out one at a time and smiling in cameraderie in camp, surrounded by others drinking beer (ugh) and we'd sit shoulder to shoulder and just let the tide of friendship around us ebb and flow, enjoying seeing our friends celebrate each other. And now - now every bottle I open will be shared with him. But not the way I want to.