If you had a chance to spend one more day with someone who had passed on, with whom would you spend it? I can think of a great many people I would like to see again. I never got to tell my mother goodbye. The same could be said of my eldest brother. I could name other people who have had an impact on my life, but there is one person I wish more than any other I could spend a day with. That
person died December 12, 2019. And in a twist of irony, that person never really existed at all. You see, that person was who I spent a lifetime trying to be.
Please let me explain. There was once a young man named Bill. He was not unlike other boys growing up. He liked to fish and play war games with the other young boys in his neighborhood. He idolized soldiers and sailors from the strong military community he lived in. Yes, he wanted his father and his heroes to be proud of him. But I know his reasons for wanting to do well were much more
important to him than anyone even realized. Deep down, Bill was in conflict with himself. The young lad had a terrible secret he wanted to make go away more than anything else. Deep inside his soul, when he shut out the world and listened to the voices from within, Bill could hear a second voice. It
was the voice of who I really was all along. Over the next five decades, the voice of the woman inside grew louder and louder until the day Bill decided to it was time to go. So, if I had one more day with Bill, what would we do, and what would I tell him?
Above all, I would tell Bill thank you. He came so close to just quitting. I know the burden of carrying me around, oftentimes against his own will, was more than anyone should ever be asked to do. I know I was the source of his fear, and his anxiety. I also know I was the reason he nearly ended both our lives on more than one occasion. I am alive today, filled with the joy of being who I was always
meant to be, and yet I know my joy came at the cost of his. I owe him a great debt I can never repay. I weep for him with great remorse when I think my happiness came at at his expense.
I have not forgotten that night in college when Caesar held him in his arms. It was the first time I ever really felt alive. I know my indulgence that night only served to add confusion to his life. Bill was never really the same after that night. If I could, I would take him by the hand and repeat that evening, this time explaining to him what he was feeling. I would take away his guilt for betraying the values society had instilled in him. I would tell him he did nothing wrong.
Likewise, I have not forgotten the guilt he felt over my sexuality. I am reminded of a story from when he was sixteen. He had found himself on probation. It doesn’t really matter why, but suffice it to say he had gotten in trouble. Mr. Henry, his probation officer, liked to use wilderness hikes as a way to help those in his charge. But when the man lost his wallet, all eyes were turned to him. I remember Bill sitting in the chair at the police station at Zephry Cove as they hooked up the polygraph. It seemed the entire world was certain he had stolen the man’s wallet. I remember the look of frustration of the officer’s face when the machines reactions to his answers proved he was innocent of the accusation. I am certain it was out of frustration when the policeman asked one final question: “Have you done anything wrong at all?”.
Bill’s heart skipped a beat. He knew the machine would betray him, but he also knew he could not possibly admit the truth. ‘No’, he answered. I remember the sound of the machine scratching frantically as it recorded its opinion of his answer. ‘You want to tell me about it?’, the officer asked. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong!’, Bill insisted. I knew then just how much guilt he carried for allowing
me, the woman inside him, to indulge my desire.
I carry Bill’s guilt with me. In the end, I know Bill made the most noble gesture off all. He laid down his life that I might live. It is for this reason I strive to be the best version of myself. To do anything less would be to make his sacrifice meaningless. Bill bore my pain, and for it he was the better person. I will never forget that. Here’s to you, my friend. Go with all my love
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