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Matt Stone's avatar

Thank you for this. The 80’s are still reverberating for all who lived through them. Who were witnesses in large or small ways. Who carry the memories of countless friends lost. The witnessing of both cruelty and incredible compassion side by side.

My brother met his partner at the beginning of that decade. They built a business and a life together. Moving a few times and establishing a business each time. By the end of the decade he was HIV positive, his partner was not. He was told he had six months to live at best. That was the thinking. The experience. They moved back to California to be closer to family and friends on the west coast. Their relationship changed but continued - they looked out for one another always.

I too was wrestling with my secret. The younger brother of whom much was expected and assumed. The 80’s became for me a time of hiding. I mourned the loss of my brother in advance, trying to be prepared, to accept. For the first time I sought help with my secret. In my case a therapist. In time I came out in the 90’s.

My brother lived on. Several close calls, but he was one of the lucky ones. Game changing therapies were arriving. Over the years he stared down so many health threats. When prostate cancer knocked on his door on 2019, we figured it too would be defeated. We talked many nights on the phone. By then I was long since “out”, and our friendship as brothers stronger than ever. He beat that cancer. But another one was stealthier. Malignant melanoma. When he turned sixty he said he was amazed he had made it this far and set his sights on seventy. But this horrid cancer had other plans. It moved relentlessly into bones, organs, brain.

I was with him in his last days, a year ago in August, less than 6 weeks after my wedding and his 61st birthday. We had late night talks in the hospital, floating over the city of Seattle in the 10th floor cancer ward in a surreal bubble of our own. He talked about those lost friends in those years. And when his brain worked, faces and names and stories connected. At other times just the stories. Names lost in a drawer full of words not connected in his mind.

His partner had died a few years earlier. They loved Key West. They took my Mom there once. My husband and I went there on our honeymoon. Sending him photos of familiar places they knew.

I’ve been to Provincetown, in 2001. It’s hard to picture the devastation playing out in so many cities in the 80’s. Yet we know it did. Your account does that well. A vast swath of unfathomable death.

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Jeannine Ouellette's avatar

The most beautiful thing I’ve read lately. Thank you for this devastating and beautiful work. ♥️

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Elissa Altman's avatar

Thank you 🙏🏻

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Kristin Hatcher's avatar

"comprised of stories coiled around a core of permission to create, to love, to breathe" -- your next book, like this essay, will be such a gift. Thank you for this post.

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Elissa Altman's avatar

Thank you -

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Victoria Olsen's avatar

So lovely and sad and moving. Thank you for wrestling with such painful memories on our behalf.

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Kendall Pigg's avatar

Stunning. ❤️‍🩹 . Thank you.

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Priscilla W McCormick's avatar

Still reeling from the impact of this moving piece. So achingly well written.

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Mike Keren's avatar

This is beautiful put and so evocative of the time in P'town. It made me think of all the faces I no longer see when I'm there. My first time was in 1983, pre-AZT and early emergence of "safe sex", which we all struggled to accept.

Thank you for sharing this.

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Timber Fox's avatar

I've never been, but my uncle and his partner visited often. He died a few years ago, at 83, and among the things of his I kept is a sketch of Provincetown boats by a local artist. I keep meaning to visit, but haven't yet.

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Rachel Vardeman's avatar

Oh, I loved this! Thank you for sharing your experience of what I think is a bit of a holy place. I adore Mary Oliver and welcome any opportunity to further imagine her life with Molly in Provincetown. Your writing added some important context to that image, so thank you!

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Roberta J Sulkowski's avatar

Thank you so much for this unbelievable, true story. Have been to Provincetown many times, years ago. Love it there.

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Marcia Lippman's avatar

you always leave me speechless

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Mary Carroll Moore's avatar

Beautiful essay on the beloved P-town culture that has seen so much sadness and joy. It's a haven and a refuge and a place to end things within a community that perhaps understood.

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Chris J. Rice's avatar

That time. Here in LA my best friend was diagnosed. He died in 92. I miss his laughter every day.

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Jessica Martin's avatar

Beautiful and sad. You paint a very vivid picture.

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Sharon's avatar

So many, so many. Thank you for this beautiful reminiscence of our agony.

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