An LGBT Letter made by a young man who lost his best friend and lover in a tragic night.
|(Disclaimer: This letter is a work of fiction based slightly off life events and should not be taken as true life events.All characters and places are pure fiction.
I never thought I would ever be writing something like this in a million years. I thought it would at least be when Matthew and I were older. Yet, here I am about to write the hardest thing in my life. What happened on that windy October night has changed my life forever. All because of some man’s hate for something he didn’t want to try understanding. He not only took the love of my life away, but a son, an artist, and the dearest friend I’ve ever had the pleaser of loving.
My partner was born November 21 1986; he was the youngest of 3. His sister Amelia (31),brother Andrew (34), and sister Natalia (39) all awaiting the great sight of their brother. At first there were complications, he was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. The doctors were sure he wouldn’t survive but against all odds he made it out ok. His mother called him ‘the miracle baby.’
He grew up in a loving environment. His father was a police officer and his mother worked as a cashier at a local store. They made it by pay check to pay check but all in all they were a happy family. They nurtured their son as any wonderful family would. Camping trips, hiking, crafts, sports outings were all a part of his family’s time. There was never a moment of idling for them which soon became part of my life the moment his and my eyes met.
In high school he was bullied a lot, be it for not liking the popular bands, the hand-me-down clothes he wore, or the ever worn shoes he often taped to keep together. But every time those words flew at him he often smiled and gave them a compliment in return. But once the bullies saw that their harsh words didn’t affect him based off looks they started lashing out. They would often beat him after school and made sure he was bruised and crying before they would leave him be. He’d often find ‘fag’ written on his locker. I suppose it was enough to scare him into ditching his classes for much of his sophomore year. When his family finally realized the extent of the bullying they put him in a catholic school which was also a bad alternative. He fortunately made it out of there unscathed.
He found himself often drawing or writing, finding that he enjoyed more artistic outlets instead of sports. He had a gift taking people to distant lands and wonderful times with his pictures or words. He wanted to help people escape from their day to day struggles and live in the moment this way. So he went to art school where he met me.
Matthew and I shortly began dating and he finally came out to his family. His father and mother were a bit concerned but opened their home and hearts to the two of us. My own family hadn’t been that loving nor accepting, but we found happiness in one another and that was enough.
We had been engaged for some time, he proposed under a weeping willow on the school campus. Where we first met, and he spoke to me of a time I thought was long forgotten by everyone but myself. But to him it was as clear as glass. He told me how he wanted to live the rest of his life with me and asked for my hand. With tears of joy in my eyes I nodded a yes, I couldn’t say anything, I was utterly speechless.
Our wedding would have been a week or so from now.
In some ways we were very different in taste. He loved more vibrant things and social engagements while I preferred sitting alone in a kitchen with a cat nestled on my lap while I drank coffee and read a book.
Which is why I didn’t go with him that night.
I guess I blame myself. If I had asked for his help with the wedding ideas he may still be sitting beside me. We had almost everything planned except for the gifts for our guests and a few invitations that had yet to be addressed and sent out. I thought I had it under control, I knew he could look after himself while I finished the task at hand. I wish now I had begged him to stay.
He sent me a picture at the night club, a huge grin on his face. He had found one of our old friends from college there. It had been wonderful to see them both so vibrant and happy. No one knew how it would end, no one could even fathom.
I was one of the many families who turned on their tv and saw the horror laid out in front of me. On the news there was talk of a shooting at the local gay club. At first it felt unreal, as if I had fallen asleep and was having a nightmare. But after a second horror replaced it and I found myself calling his number.
I call again
The same thing.
I did this about 20 times before reality hit me that he could very well be dead. I, of course, did try to think positive. There was always a chance Matthew made it out ok but couldn’t answer his phone yet. So I waited, sleeplessly the rest of the night. It was around 7 am when I got the call from his mother. She was sobbing the moment I picked up and I knew exactly where it was going. I’ll never forget that conversation, the feeling of a huge chunk of me being torn to shreds when I came to the realization that my partner was gone.
All because some man, full of hate in his heart, was disgusted some time before over two men kissing one another on a train. He went into the club to kill innocent lives of people he knew nothing about. He never knew of the times Matt and I laughed, the times of waking up to a nightmare and him holding me through the night until we both fell back asleep, or the times we cried together.
He didn’t know that Matthew’s favorite smell was old books and incense. He had no idea we have a cat named Theo, a snake, and a 2 month old puppy. Nor did he know that when he killed the man I loved he left a chunk out of everyone who ever met the greatest man on earth.
So here I am, writing this letter so that everyone can realize,
We didn’t just lose the victims in that club; we lost a chunk of ourselves.
I will never forget my time with Matthew. For as long as I live I may continue to feel lost and confused. There may even be occasions I wake up and find myself calling for him and then the weight of his death flowing over my once again.
I will never forget the most amazing man and all he stood for.
So with this note I beg everyone to continue loving one another. Never be afraid to love who you love and never hold back because honestly, you never know when you could lose them.
Someday we may look back at this occasion and see where it made an impact on the world. Someday the lgbt community might better from the situation that happened just a few weeks ago. At least then I will know that my fiancé died for a cause. But for now I ask for time to morn for my love and the future he and I will never be able to have together.
Sleep in peace Matt.