Remembering Thom

I'm reflecting this morning on my high school boyfriend, who would have been 62 today. We met in 7th grade and became fast friends, sharing a similar sense of humor, a love of writing, and an appreciation for the same music.

 

In 11th grade, we became "something more" - though it was a confused affair, as he had not yet arrived at identifying as straight, gay, or bisexual.

I took that somewhat personally, being so young and not feeling all that confident. We parted amicably at the end of high school and he moved to London for a time, where he wrote me letters on the back of gift wrap or whatever else he could find. Then we lost touch for a bit.

 

I saw him in 1988 at our 10-year high school reunion and we had a good, long talk. By then he was living with a man and seemed settled and happy. I felt glad for him.

 

It was the last time I saw him. He was diagnosed with AIDS shortly thereafter and he was near death 2 years later when I finally heard about it from someone else.

 

We wrote a bit, as he was able. Apologized for not letting me know. There was completion between us.

And then he died, a month before his 30th birthday. I had some lovely after-death communication from him. And yet... for years, I felt angry at him for leaving. He had so much life in him. So much more to give and to experience.

 

I know that the choices that others make on a soul-level can't be perceived clearly from our earthly eyes. My friend had arrived astrologically at a crossroads point - his Saturn return. It is then that we are energetically encouraged to take a leap forward into adulthood. I always kind of felt like this was more than he was prepared to do, and so he left this world.

 

I will only add that having known him continues to add to my own understanding about so many things: aliveness, the creative imperative (he became a fabulous artist), sexuality and the curious spectrum we all walk within it, adulthood, soul choices, and death.

 

* This is the two of us in our 17th summer. I had just woken up, and he was trying to pull me into the pool.

September in California

September is here, which brings delicious thoughts of autumn leaves, cool breezes, and relief from the relentless California sun. Though here on the West Coast, these thoughts are pure fantasy, born of stories from the Northeast of rainfall and trees turning and contemplative images of sipping tea, gazing at a picturesque downpour from a window seat, reading a book. 

 

Of course, for many of us, September brings memories of going back to school. There was a ritual that I think has been lost now, as every school year seems to start at a different time. From kindergarten to 12th grade, school began the Tuesday after Labor Day. Labor Day was the time when summer lovers bid a sad farewell to the season. But I was never sad, because I was not a summer girl. I always leaned with longing towards the cooler months. 

 

I remember shopping for school clothes with such excitement in August as a teen, picking out "deep greens and blues" and maroons, browns and rusts... long-sleeves and corduroy pants... only to show up to school on my first day in my favorite new outfit and swelter through the day. Then reluctantly come to school the next day in a summer dress.

 

Growing up in Los Angeles, "cooler months" was relative. One had to pay very close attention to detect the shifts in season. To this day, I still love to sense into those subtle changes. How the shadows shift and the sky becomes more muted. My eye troubles render me sensitive to excessive sunlight, so it is always a wonder when I can go outside without sunglasses. To relax my eyes and just take in the world and its quiet alterations. 

 

We are in the midst of what I hope is the last big heatwave of the summer here in the Bay Area, with a week's worth of temps above 100. I will have to hold onto those visions of autumn for awhile longer!

 

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Art by Catrin Welz Stein.