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Today was my mother's birthday... and as I remember my mother I keep flashing back on one memory in particular this morning: the day I came out to her. My mother was the first member of my family that I told (it's hard to believe that it's been almost 20 years ago now)... and I was terrified. I'd had a close friend in college named Cesar whose parents had disowned him when he told them. He almost hadn't graduated because they had withdrawn financial support and, as far as I know, never really spoke to him again. I couldn't bare the thought of losing my mother, but I knew that withholding this part of my life was just another way of losing her, so I told her I had something to tell her, that it was difficult for me, and might be difficult for her, but I had to. She sat with me, told me I could tell her anything and quietly waited... and I just couldn't do it. I was so scared, and the tears streamed down my face and I started to shake and the words just wouldn't come and she sat with me and told me it would be alright and I should go ahead and I just couldn't. And finally she wiped away my tears, took my hands in hers and leaned in really close and looked me square in the eye and said: "You KNOW your father and I would NEVER do what Cesar's parents did. Now what do you have to tell me Stephen?" And so finally I told her, and she held me and told me she loved me and that it would be alright, that she knew it would be hard and she was afraid for me and how other people would treat me, but she knew I was strong and knew that in the end I would be alright. Everywhere my mother went she found people and loved them fiercely, she loved in a way that filled people with hope and drove away their fear. She was an amazing woman. Happy Birthday Mom! I miss you.
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