Finding Gay Love After Loss

Have you ever loved someone so much that the very thought of life without them incapacitates you? I have. I knew the total devastation of it as the doctors told us that Cheryl’s cancer was too advanced; it was terminal; she had only a month or two to live. Fifteen years were ending in a few short days. The pain took me to my knees and the only thing that kept me from hitting the floor was Carlos.
Carlos, our best friend since before Cheryl and I’d met. He had seen us through everything; the fights, the illnesses, the joys and the tears. I don’t think our marriage would have survived without him. Hell, there would have been no “us” without him. He had been there at the beginning and now he’d see us through the end.
I held Cheryl’s hand and Carlos held the other as we cried. When we were too sore, too tired and too hurt to cry anymore, Carlos guided me from the hospital and took me home. As he drove me to his apartment I sat, looking out the window, silently reflecting on my life; wondering how I would survive.
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I’d met Carlos my sophomore year in College. He’d been on track; I’d been on the wrestling team. We were assigned to the same room and there was an immediate connection between us. I’d grown up in a small, midwestern town, where the population was ninety-nine percent white, conservative, protestant. I’d never met a Hispanic person or a Chinese person till I got to college. I’d known a few blacks but not many. How I grew up not being a racist, reactionary pig was anyone’s guess. Fortunately, I hadn’t, and it allowed me to make the best friend of my life.
It wasn’t till our junior year that I...