Two Lesbians and a Funeral

As I work on my first novel, you will learn more about my lesbian-or not so lesbian-past. For the purpose of today, you should know that I have not always been OUT in my family. Sure, my mom questioned why my "best friend" at 18 was the only girl who ever slept in my twin bed. My younger sisters, Dar and Charlotte, quietly speculated about my sexuality in their bunk-beds. But no one was certain what my future love life would look like.

Enter Jo. Within months of our first date, I came out-loud and proud-to my immediate family. Beyond my closest relatives, I didn't feel I needed to actually come out to my extended family (second cousins, great-aunts, ect). Up until now, Jo assumed we had a rather small family. Holidays typically involved my parents, sisters, grandparents, and usually an aunt or uncle. That's it. In actuality my grandmother was one of four and grandfather the youngest of thirteen. There are countless cousins and the cousins are having baby cousins. Unfortunately, we only get together for weddings and funerals. Sad, but true.

With this knowledge in mind, preparing for my grandmother's funeral, in an odd way, felt like we were gearing up for a family reunion. Great-aunts and distant cousins were flying in. My favorite Cape Cod Cousin would be making the long, arduous drive. The anticipation of seeing my family kept me going. Although the week of Gram's funeral was the hardest of my life, I felt blessed. Jo was granted leave. We weren't sure they would let her come, but at the last minute, my Gram must have worked her magic in Heaven. The time had come: Jo would meet the family.

At a traditional wake, the immediate family typically stays up front to greet individuals as they come to pay their last respects. Similarly, in church during the funeral mass, you walk up the aisle like a bridesmaid would. It was all so odd to me. During this personal, agonizing time, I needed to smile, say hello, and let everyone know what I've been doing for a decade (the last cousin was married in 2000 so it’s been awhile since we’ve all gotten together.)

And there was Jo; the forth, tallest daughter at the end of the receiving line. I'd been prepping her all day. Aunt V is married to Gram's brother, Dick. Betts was Gram's sister flying in with her daughter. After two years, many family members had heard something about Jo or at least the fact that I had moved far away for an un-disclosed reason. My cousin from the Cape actually bee-lined towards the casket in order to finally meet the girl who stole my heart.

It couldn’t have gone better. Jo already fit so naturally with my parents and sisters, it almost feels as though she's been with us forever. Aunt V commented that her and I were so at ease with each other. (well, duh?) I had no idea we were being so 'out' but I suppose that's what happens when you are distracted by something much more important.

Jo provided her support, both emotionally and physically during those difficult days. For some, I’m sure that type of outward same-sex affection was completely new. But everyone, from nine to ninety, embraced us, wanted to meet her, and wish us well. I know I am lucky; not all families are so supportive.

For those of you that cannot be yourself 100% of the time, persevere. It won't always be this hard. My family reunion 'coming out' day was eight years in the making. I'm officially ready to do it again under happier circumstances. Maybe next time at a big gay wedding?

Great Love

I have just returned home after 16 days at my grandparents. I spent the first week saying farewell to an amazing woman, making her comfortable in her final days. The second, more intense week, involved the planning of a two-day farewell (funeral) for our family and friends. So much has happened in the past two weeks that I think the next several blogs will be devoted to specific events.

In the meantime, I would like to share my final Eulogy to my grandmother. I wrestled with posting this, fearing it may be deemed morbid. Luckily, the subject matter seemed very fitting for a blog about following one's love.


***


There are not many individuals who can actually walk 'through the woods" to their grandmother's house. Darnel*, Shelly, Nina and I were very lucky to have her so close by. Grandma always had our favorite snacks ready and lots of questions about our day. I thought a lot about which memories I would share today. Although I want to be selfish and tell you about the best grandmother on earth, I need to tell you a love story.

It was August 1950, 59 years ago. Donata* and her friend Helen were on vacation at Echo Lake Farms. Jim "Red" O'Brien was also there with Sal Fatone. Despite Italian heritage and her hesitation about red hair, Donata was taken with the young Irish man.

As Grandpa would say, "she gave me class" and in return, he gave her his heart. I learned everything I need to know about love from my grandparents. During slumber parties, before humming us to sleep, Gram shared her life's advice.

"Izzy," she would say, "Make sure you find someone that takes care of you the way that Grandpa takes care of me."

She said this years go. Little did she know, he would become her nurse in the final months. And his name would be the final word she would say. Until her last days, if you asked Grandma what she was thinking about, she would say, "walking." She longed for one more afternoon with her love by the inlet. In spite of her worsening condition, she always tried to have her meals with Grandpa at the kitchen table. If he left her side for too long, she called out, "Jimmy!" And gripped his hand upon his return.

In February the prognosis was not good. It was unlikely that Grandma would reach her 80th birthday, but she always did love surprising us. Here we are seven months later with even more memories to cherish.

In Shelly's reaching from the New Testament she stated, "Hope does not disappoint." I truly believe it was my grandfather's hope, love and devotion that kept her going these last few months.

Our entire family is lucky to have witnessed this Great Love.

In Donata's honor, I hope we all remember to dress as fashionably, accessories in tact; keep our homes as impeccable; care as deeply as she did for others; and love as passionately.

I love you, Grandma.




______________________________________
*a reminder that all names on NAVY WIFE have been changed.

Vacation

Please excuse my 'vacation.' We've barely begun and I have already taken off (for those that know me, I'm sure you are thinking, 'typical.') I assure you, my week off has not been entirely pleasant. In fact, I would say it was a melancholy week, marked by spectacular events. Go figure.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...Here's the week's recap, with a different number to represent each day I've been MIA:

10: Although the week ahead would be difficult to say the least, my first night in town couldn't have been more magical. As noted the last time I wrote, Cate and Abe were high school school sweethearts who married after ten years together. The genuine love they have for each other is evident. The two embody the expression "I'm in in love with my best friend" and for their first dance they did a choreographed number to prove it.

I did in fact refer to Jo as my partner (despite my hesitation); however, seeing my two old friends celebrate their future together only enhanced my own desire to move forward with my other half. It was the kind of night which reminds you that you are Lucky to be in love.

67:

I spent day two of my trip making the rounds you must when most of your family lives within a three block radius. It was that evening that kept me going. I had plans to meet up with some of my favorite college friends: Lillian, Six (yes, like in Blossom), and Bean (every good lesbian has a nickname.) Bean was even bringing her new girl and we were all pumped to meet her. (Before I get too serious, she really was fabulous...yay, Bean!)

I could not wait to see the girls but knew there would be a cloud hanging over us.

Six had spent the day prior laying her Nan to rest. Nan was 67 years old. It struck me as so young. My own grandmother was 80; grandpa even older. That night I saw the pain in Six' eyes and listened intensely as Lil has the epiphany that life really must go on. We laughed harder that night than I had in a long time. And we cried.

It was a hard evening but probably one of the most real I've had in a long time. I suppose it's the hard times that make you realize who means the most.

80:

I was just about to recap the time I spent with my grandmother during my vacation week. My laptop was open and my fingers were on the keyboard when the phone rang. Grandpa was on the other end, sobbing. It was not an unexpected phone call; however, the pit in my stomach was deeper than I could have imagined. My blog would have to wait; I had to fly home and say goodbye to my Grandma.

What should I call her?

I'm in the airport waiting for my flight to board. First off, please ignore any typos as this is my first official post from my new blogger app and I'm still adjusting to the new technology. Second of all,
I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my rants and raves... Keep the comments coming- very encouraging!

Anyway, I'm headed back home for an old friend's wedding. I've known Cate since the fifth grade when we both wore Catholic school girl uniforms. We originally got acquainted because I told on her for talking in the bathroom.... I must have been intimated by the curly haired blond girl or I was just a bitch; regardless, we are close after all the years and tonight I will see her marry her high school sweetheart.... So exciting!

Drinking my required pre-flight screwdriver, I got to thinking about my own sweetheart. Jo won't be able to make it to this evening's nuptials (thanks to my little sis for playing wingman.) We are at that age though where she will undoubtedly come up.

I hear it now, "So Iz, what are you doing now?"

It should be noted that not everyone at this event will know that I'm gay. Most have not met Jo. Answering this question becomes a bit of a balancing act. It all comes down to who I'm speaking with.

My Partner: I almost feel uncomfortable using this expression. She is completly my partner in every sense of the word but we have yet to "make it official." Although I feel that calling her my partner might give the impression that we are "married," there are times when I will use it anyway. A certain generation will just not understand my lifestyle if I use the term "girlfriend."

As Cate and her Cuban love become man and wife, I will continue to call Jo my gf/partner until I too can call my love my wife... Or at least until I can upgrade to fiancé.

Planes about to take off... Until tomorrow....

Lesbian Without Lunch

In this daily closeted journey, there are good and bad days. Sometimes Jo is home for a long weekend, other nights I'm all alone. That is the life of the military and I'm slowly getting comfortable with the role of Navy 'wife' (not that anything is official.) Today is a bad, well more disappointing. I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, but here goes.

I've taken on the role of housewife and my afternoons in the kitchen have come to feel therapeutic. Picking up Gourmet magazine and watching Giada at Home, I've learned the basics and stolen some great recipes. If I do say so myself, I'm getting pretty good. Yesterday, I even baked muffins.

I love this new role and take pride in my daily creations (both on the page and in our bellies.) Each evening after the kitchen is cleaned and dishwasher started, I prepare Jo's lunch for the next day. Call me old-fashioned but I enjoy caring for her after a long day. She spent the day working hard in uniform, the least I can do is prepare a nutritious, delicious mid-day meal. I alternate between packing her blue lunchbox and my black and white plaid lunchbag.

I digress. Back to bad days....

This morning I opened the refrigerator to see this afternoon's lunch sitting where I had placed it last night. I immediately got excited; I can bring it to her at lunchtime and we can spend the extra thirty minutes together. That feeling sunk; we are in the Navy. I do not exist and even acting as a roommate, I could never get on base.

It seems insignificant to most of you, I'm sure. Particularly, if you are straight. The thing is it's another one those moments when I am forced to remember that we're not like everybody else. According to the military of this country, the healthy, happy relationship that Jo and I have only exists behind the gates of our apartment community.

Jo will just have to get something from the cafeteria. And I will go back into therapy, perhaps today with Paula Deen.

Name the Dream

At the end of June, I packed up our studio, took the pups to our favorite groomer and planned a night out to say farewell. Following a week of rest 'down the shore,' my two sisters, two puppies and I packed up my old gold Lexus and drove to meet my girlfriend at our new home. Jo went active duty earlier this year and I stayed back to wrap up lose ends before I relocated. Unfortunately, I will not disclose the location due to DADT, but it is certainly a change of pace.

Since I accompanied Jo, I have been wearing an invisible poncho to shield the hurricane of questions. Everyone loves to ask 'So what are you doing?' or 'What are you going to now?' I've been avoiding the phone, Facebook chat, and even evenings out with new friends. It wasn't until last weekend that I realized I've perpetuated this worry and concern from my friends and loved ones.

Jo's best friend from college was in town and we were catching up over cocktails at one of the local bars. Bryn is an Irish beauty, retired track star and driven grassroots activist. Wearing a track t-shirt from their alma mater, Brynny was approached by a middle-aged balding bar-fly with a lame attempt to introduce himself. Turns out they know the same athletic trainer and Baldy had a great Mexican restaurant suggestion for dinner: totally worth the awkward scene of his flirting attempt.

He eventually turned the conversation away from the grassroots runner to me "And what are you doing down here?"

"Me?" I giggled, "I unpack, lay by the pool. I'm trying to write."

He smiled sympathetically and threw out an unconvincing, "Good for you." As he walked away, the barrage began.

"You need to own your writing, Missy." Bryn instructed. I was speechless and she was right. "You have talent and the time. Now, harness your vision and do it!"

My inability to take ownership for 'what I'm doing down here' has been a theme since I moved. I make jokes, act awkward and never, ever tell anyone that I have a grand plan. But the truth is, I've started my novel (well, again) and freelance projects, joined the state writer's association and signed up for an upcoming conference. I don't know why I can not confidently declare, "I am a writer." It did take me six and a half years after my first girl-on-girl kiss to call myself a lesbian; I suppose I attach labels at a slightly slower pace.

This weekend, I found an awesome quote in "The Advocate." Dustin Lance Black, using a Harvey Milk metaphor, inspires, "The only ways we've ever made advances are when we've named the dream. Not the crumbs, not the little pieces around the edges. You have got to name the dream, or you'll never get it."

Hmm....my dream? Through writing, I would like to continue the quest towards equal rights for all and unify the gay community by bringing them out of the closet and into a more mainstream light.

Ok, Dustin and Harvey. I am a writer. Now, I just need the backbone to say it with confidence and the momentum to achieve the dream.

The Great Healthcare Debate

Here we are, the end of July and instead of enjoying the lazy, hazy days of summer, we all seem to be worried about healthcare. How should we solve the great crisis facing this country? Well, I'll admit, I'm more caught up with the outcome of the 'beer discussion' at Barack's.

What I am worried about is my own healthcare debate. On Friday, my insurance with will run out (since my contract ended at the end of June.) The federal government will subsidize a good percentage of my Cobra (extended insurance coverage when you are unemployed) but the cost would still be an additional monthly payment in an already tight budget of a Millennial.

Whoa is me:( I can't marry into the Navy insurance which is a shame with Barack's recent announcement of Federal employee benefits extended to same sex couples. As my girlfriend would say, "What gets more Federal than the Navy?"

To pay for Cobra or live on the edge?

Unless, we found another (male) Navy couple in the same debate. Double wedding? Hmmm...Bad idea?