Horrible Nights, Wonderful Nights

As I try to accept my dear friend Raul's impending death, I also celebrate my youngest child's struggle as an (almost) 15-year-old girl in high school. Her birthday is Sunday. Not to mention my youngest grandson's second birthday, today. Happy Birthday, Oliver! (far left, in his birthday suit)

Julia is upstairs at this hour, babysitting a little guy called Elliot, not yet one year old.

Life celebrates life. Our babies grow up and take care of other babies.

Our dearest friends pass away, one by one. And we cry. It is an essential part of living that we understand our dying.

I am an old man now. I have been losing friends for years and I know I will lose many more if I live long enough to hear the news. One by one we are all going away. On some sweet day not that long from now, my friends and family will also lose me. And then my voice will become silent, so for now I know I need to keep posting. These messages matter.

My heart is so heavy tonight, because I (selfishly) do not want to lose Raul. He is one of the very few who has been there for me when it really mattered. He loves me and I love him. He is a great man, a wonderful human being, and also a gay Cuban immigrant from a dysfunctional family, a great journalist, a kind person with a heart bigger than anyone else I have ever known.

I do not want to let him go. And I also know that I must.