Scott
Last summer, the day after my former partner died, I called to tell them he had died and lost it on the phone. It had been two years since our blow-up, and things were still a bit strained.
He died of spinal meningitis, so I wasn't lying when I told them that; but my mom said to me, "You can hang up. You can get as pissed off as you want, but I want to know, `Did he die of AIDS?'"
Before my mind could work, I said, "Yes."
My mom started to say "I expect you to go get yourself tested," but again, my mind was either racing so fast that I didn't realize what was going on, or it had shut down completely. I said, "I have been, Mom, and I'm positive."
Suddenly, it was out. It wasn't intentional, but it was out. My mom lost it.
Finally I said, "When you calm down, call me back," and I hung up the phone. They called back and within a half hour came down to visit. It was the only time I've ever seen my dad choke back emotion. It was all self-blame, "My God, we've done this to you. What could we have done to prevent this?"
Now, my parents don't ask a lot of questions about the gay thing. They do ask a lot about the AIDS issue. They're concerned about that and very supportive. I can't imagine having more love and support than I do from them now. The gay issue doesn't matter at this point. That shows how petty a problem it really is. It isn't an issue.
The HIV thing really turned them around and, you know, if it came down to choosing between having the disease and having all the love and support that I have now, or not having the disease and having my old relationship with my parents, I would choose the disease, because there's more love there than I could imagine.