There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
For some reason, this is the song that springs to mind as I sit to tell this tale. It is a hard tale to tell and comes with much pain in my heart, so it requires me to make a long story extremely short.
In my life before now, I was an activist of a different kind. I spent many days and nights standing up for the rights of people infected and affected by HIV and AIDS. It was a lovely time in my life. I was young, passionate, and with an endless supply of energy; never backed down from a fight. If I was unable to be at the action, I fought from the sidelines.
We became a family who marched with each other and for each other. We loved our brothers and sisters in arms, and we were quite a motley crew! It was the late 80's and we were losing the fight. Politicians were seen as liars as they wooed an entire community with promises of better rights, and then took it all away by vetoing prominent Assembly Bills...and that is barely scratching the surface.
We were reminded repeatedly that life is sweet as we watched our friends die all around us. It was a heartbreaking time, but also an inspiring time. How could we let those deaths seem in vain? We still had work to do. We were the warriors, and our battlefield was Los Angeles. We fought concurrent sieges with the rest of the world, and little by little things started to change.
ACT UP/LA was responsible for significant changes in the treatment of people with AIDS (PWA). Wayne Karr, Cory Roberts, and Sister X are just a few of the ACT UP members and friends who are now only present in memory. It was a loud, fast paced, and fierce raucousness that drove us. It was how we lived...proud and out loud!
That time in my life was so full of love and loss that the lines often blurred. When I left Los Angeles, I left that all behind. The heartache grew to be too much. I saw my friends from time to time and heard of them often. I never missed celebrating successes for them, and always remembered...always.
There were two people who I held closer than most: Pete and Major (Jeff). They were my family. They were my guys, my heart. They made me a better person being around them. They made me smile. They made me feel loved. They made me feel important and whole.
I find it hard to talk about them as a pair, knowing that Jeff is alone now. When you share 21 years together, it has to be hard. I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose that love. Jeff and Pete were always together, true love. Ironically, it was AIDS that brought them together, and AIDS that tore them apart.
My grief is all consuming. My heart feels pangs and tears well up whenever I think of this great loss. This is not only my loss, but a loss for humanity. The loss of a great advocate for PWA's who always put others' needs above his own. The loss of a divine soul who loved with his whole heart, and you will never feel his love. The loss of a ferocious warrior who will not be there to fight alongside you. The loss of a friend that you will never know. Those who never met Pete are already at a disadvantage. He was truly unique and there will never be another like him.
Some of my favorite memories involving Pete, also starred Prince, the ladies of ABFAB, Halloween costumes made of stickers, The AIDS Mastery, and old friends.
We were always smiling, even through tears.
For me, my heart will never be the same. In a good way, as well as in a painful way. I would have rather met and lost Pete Jimenez, than never to have known him at all. Those are just the facts.
