Thank You Pete

When someone isn't outwardly ill, the news that this person--someone who is important in your life has died--you descend into shock. Disbelief. Unimaginable sadness.

I got a phone call last night from a mutual friend Matt passing on such news. My friend Pete Deakin died yesterday. He had gone last Friday on a week long trip with his entire family to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. He was was swimming in the ocean and collapsed from a heart attack. Paramedics were called and were unable to revive him. I'm thankful it happened with his family around him and that he wasn't at home alone.

I had Sid and Max duty, going into Pete's condo nightly to feed his cats while he was away. Our last communication was via text message on Wednesday morning for me to report that I wasn't entirely sure Max was eating, as he hadn't ate in my presence, still, and Pete had asked me to watch as he didn't think max was eating as well.

I met Pete as so many of us do--online, in 1997 sometime, on a now defunct website called Firefly. It was a chat site, and he had contacted me because I lived in DC as did he, and we both visited the gay chat room there. He had recently recovered, as much as one does, from a heart malady and subsequent stroke and we chatted for sometime before finally meeting in person to see a movie at Union Station. This was the official start of an important friendship--Pete was my first also gay friend, something important in so many ways when you're on the verge of exploring coming out.

It was Pete who had to practically strong arm me into going to Gay Pride in 1998. I was sure that when the media had it's 5 second report on the 11 o'clock news that they'd show a swarm of drag queens and then me. And that also in the sea of people shown in the paper in a photo that I would be very visible. I met Pete and Matt and we went to the parade and to the street festival which followed, and it was a seminal day for me. I saw that these were people just like me, just like everyone else. Pride was instilled that day in me, and for that, I thank Pete. I will be forever grateful.

Looking back on that day at Pride, I also associate it with leading me to my current job, so I suppose I have Pete to thank for that too, although sometimes I'd like to damn him for it, but we all have those kinda days, weeks, months at work, haven't we?

And Pete had said that if I hadn't urged him to come out from time to time, he never would have met the good folks included in our circle of friends. So I suppose we helped each other, as should be the case with friends.

Back to last night. Matt and Greg and I descended on Pete's condo to remove items he wouldn't want his family to have to deal with: Porn, Toys, etc, if you know what I mean. Being Pete wasn't the world's best housekeeper/organizer, this task was daunting to say the least, the cats I'm sure are aware something is up and by 1am when we left, Sid had started swiping a paw at me and hissing--he'd had enough. I hope we got it all, or at least most of it, the worst of it. LOL

When you're on a mission like this it's hard to let emotion take over, as you have to work on the task at hand. So I'm looking through stuff on top of his dresser and stumble on this ring he bought in Chicago and which inexplicably had gone from the typical ring shape of round, to the weird ring shape of square. This dumb square ring almost sent me over the edge. I was this close to just falling apart, but at the same time someone said something funny and that saved me. I'm sure many similar moments will occur in the days to come.

I returned today from an overnight pre-planned trip to Rehoboth Beach with Ethan--another place Pete liked to go to. I was hesitant to keep the plans, but ultimately decided it would be therapeutic and it was. I probably got 4 hours sleep Thursday night, if that. By 4pm, I was sitting on the beach, and then standing in the surf. My thoughts raced to what had to be a similar beach in North Carolina the day before. I stood there and cried and hoped he didn't suffer.

There have been some memorable times at the beach. President's Day weekend one very cold February, where we were introduced to Ethan's rhythmic snore. The following summer when a whole gaggle of us descended on one two-double bed room. I think we told the front office we had 4 people, when in fact we had 7. and obviously, we were too cheap to be honest. We asked for a cot, which got wedged between the two doubles. Pete, and I in one bed. Jake and Rick in the cot. Greg and Smokey in the other bed. And Ethan, well, he took the floor. It was this trip I learned Pete was a bed hog and a covers hog. I froze. And the hotel charged us for 2 extra people.

The last time I remember Pete being at the beach was last summer, I think. Marcy, Ethan, Matt and Pete and I stayed at a new hotel (new to us). It was a big room with 4 double beds, and Pete accused Marcy and I of freezing him out with the air conditioning and of giving him a cold. This from the covers hog???

More soon.....