Posted by:
puck
(
)
Date: February 28, 2013 04:10AM
It has been heartening for me to read everyone that remembers Kerry. I thought I'd offer a bit too.
He and I emailed quite a bit before he moved to Boston, when I was a lowly undergraduate having a tough time in school and he was excited to embark on a new career path. When he moved to Boston, he lived only about a mile from me, and I saw him and Olivier quite often.
The more communication broke down between my blood relations and me, the more Kerry was there. When I was sick, and eventually diagnosed with Crohn's, he had me over for dinner. I could drop by pretty much any time, and I often did with a pound of coffee or box of tea from Starbucks in hand. We'd sit on his back deck and drink coffee, as I told him about the boys I'd met or were dating and he told me stories of his youth.
When I needed someone to tell me I was worth something, that my parents weren't right to abandon me, that I did have a place in the world, Kerry was there. We'd get a beer or go on walks or sit on the front deck and watch the people pass below. He'd explain to me why all the doorjams in the neighbourhood were crooked, and then he'd explain to me that there is love in the world, if not in my life, I just had to see it.
We graduated at the same time at Harvard, me with my bachelor's, him from the graduate school of design. I spotted him before we all marched into the Yard, but he was too far away to talk to. I waved; he didn't see me through the thousands of caps and gowns, but he was animatedly talking to a classmate from the GSD and grinning that grin of his that lit up his whole face.
I moved for law school and work, but I was back in Boston for a few days last fall and he, Olivier, and I managed to have dinner together downtown. Kerry and I met early and walked through Boston common, he chided me for not knowing any latin names for the trees and recited them all for me. I told him about the guy I'd met the previous year, how sure I was of things, how I finally understood what he meant when he said love would come. He was so supportive and happy for me, and told me to hang onto that feeling. And also to invite him to, what he expected, knowing me, would be a black-tie affair of a wedding. I told him not to move so fast, but he'd be the first one to know. And he would have been.
He last emailed me after the recent big snow storm in Boston, sending along some commentary on the 28 inches of snow. The last big snowstorm, on the 26th of December 2010, he had driven through the early settled snow to drop off some christmas cookies we had made together.
Kerry was more than a friend to me, he was family. He was often the closest thing I ever had to a father, though I don't know if he was ever comfortable with that. We did joke about how having 'gay dads' led me to working for a gay-rights nonprofit. He was, as always, proud of that too.
I can't believe this happened and I still kind of think it must be a cruel prank, because no one that loving, that kind, that wonderful should ever leave life that young. I knew a lot of his background stories, he would tell them to me not only as we became closer, but, I think, to show that things get better. I only wish that life had been better to him.
the last thing I said to him was 'I miss you!' and from him to me was a complaint about having to return library books in the rain, with his usual sign-off, 'Love, Kerry.'
I hadn't yet told him I'd be back in Boston in April; I was planning to show up at his apartment like I used to as a surprise. I wish I'd gotten to tell him what a difference he made in my life, how I still need him, and how very much I will miss having him around.