A gay story: Another Morn than Ours (Before you read this story, please click on my name to go to my author’s page. There is an explanatory note that will help connect my stories. Thanks for reading! – Rob)
“There never was a better bargain driven.” Sir Philip Sidney
(Note from Sean: “These two letters were found among Dan’s personal effects. The first was written on the occasion of Dad and Dan’s twenty-fifth anniversary. They had gone to Europe again, and they were staying in the Opera Suites, where they had stayed in Vienna on their first trip together. The second letter was written in Houston six years later, near the end. I kept the first letter and made a copy of the second.”)
Dearest Jack,
I can hardly believe that it’s been twenty-five years since we were married. So much has happened in that time. Sometimes, when life is stressful, the years drag by slowly. Sometimes, in happy times, even “normal” times (whatever that may be), the years fly by so quickly that it takes my breath away.
As I watch you sleeping in our bed in our hotel room, I don’t think so much about all the things that have happened in these years, the thirty years since I first met you. What I do think about is you. How you have shaped me. How you have always been my rock, my anchor.
When my friend Ian was killed in that horrible train wreck. When the hurricane nearly destroyed our home. When you supported me through my heart surgery. Things that, before you, would have probably devastated me, were actually turned into times of growth. Your love for me has always been the rock-bottom fact of my life, and my love for you has been a natural response.
After we made love last night (it’s heartening to know that two old men can still be that frisky!), you fell into peaceful sleep. I stayed awake for a while, just watching you in wonder. You are a passionate and tender lover, the wisest man I’ve ever known, full of humor and kindness, with a heart that gives and gives without expectation of return.
I sit here, still feeling you in me, and I know that however much our bodies are joined, our hearts are joined even more deeply. You amaze me, Jack Middleton, my heart of hearts, my love, my joy, the one who makes me a better man.
When you read this after you wake, know that my feeble words can never truly express what you mean to me. Happy Anniversary, sweetheart. I hope I have given you even a fraction of the love and joy you have given me.
With all my love,
Dan
~~~~~~~~~~
Jack,
No endearments this time. Everything I feel about you is summed up in your name.
As I watch you sleeping in your hospital bed, I hope you are at peace. You look peaceful. Of all the men and women I have ever known, you are the most deserving of peace.
When you woke earlier this morning, I saw your small stir as you gently raised your hand to beckon me. You couldn’t speak because of the breathing tube. I couldn’t speak because I could not find my voice. But with all my faults and shortcomings, I’ve always been able to read your eyes.
Today, your eyes destroyed me. You rich brown eyes were full of so much love, and so much pain. I finally understood as our eyes communicated. I managed to whisper, “Jack, it’s killing me, but I know I have to let you go. Be at rest. I love you so much. Thank you for loving me.”
Then you smiled. A faint, gentle smile. But your smile lit up the room with a tragic joy. You are right, of course. You were always the wiser, the stronger of the two of us. I managed a feeble smile in return, trying to hold it together. But, of course, you knew that I was falling apart. You always did know what was going on in my mind and heart even better than I did myself.
I kissed you gently and you slipped back into sleep. Only the readings on your monitors assured me that you were still with me.
I would weep for you now, Jack, but all the tears have already been spent. So now, all I have are the memories, too powerful for words, too weak for life.
The last drops are being wrung from my heart now, Jack, so I must stop.
I love you more than I can ever express. But, of course, you know that, too.
Dan
P.S. for Sean: When I’m laid to rest next to your dad, Sean, please make sure this letter is in my hands.
~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s note: The title quotes the last line of The Death Bed, a short funeral poem by the nineteenth-century English poet Thomas Hood.