![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
To everything there is a season....
May. 9th, 2011 06:44 pmI first met Ron in the early 90's while surfing AOL. We met in a chat room for gay men north of SF. We lived on opposite sides of the same county, I on the Russian River, and he an hour and a half away in the town of Sonoma. We became fast friends.
We had much in common; a love for the visual, for color and composition. We were both partnered gay men, though his was not a happy marriage. When Ron and I first met, I had been with LJ 13 years, while they had been together for a dozen; he was was contemplating leaving the relationship back them, although it would take him another 6 years to do so.
In 2000, he met the love of his life, I think also via the internet. William was in Atlanta on the other side of the country. Within 6 months from when they first met, Ron relocated to be with him. They were good for each other. Their temperaments meshed well and for the first time I could remember, Ron was in love and happy. I was thrilled, but horrified. What if it didn't work out? Atlanta? An openly gay man living in the deep south? Northern California chauvinist and Jewish mother that I am, I was worried. I needn't have been. Emotionally, Ron thrived there.
I awoke this morning feeling uneasy. The cat decided I needed to have my bare shoulder kneaded with his kitty claws at half past six. I rolled over and looked at my phone for the time. There was a missed call from an Atlanta phone number, that had come in 15 minutes earlier. As cell reception at the house is spotty, I decided to wait to check the call until I was on the road for work. However, in the pit of my stomach, I already knew something was dreadfully wrong.
William answered the phone, when I called. He was composed, but somber. Ron had suffered from some major medical problems over the years and had been in the hospital not long ago. Last night, he suddenly felt short of breath. He passed out and William called 911, then started CPR, but without success. Ron was gone by the time the EMT's got him to the hospital. He was 63. This August they would have marked 10 years together.
As I sit and write this, that Ron is gone is finally beginning to hit me emotionally. I'm not shocked, but it was unexpected. I'm grieving, not just for Ron, but for William, who I came to respect and appreciate for the good man he is, the man who took my friend away from California and did what no one else had ever done. He made him happy, and for that, I'm grateful.
This was taken by William of Ron and I during their last trip to California several years back. We were out by Goat Rock on the Sonoma County coast, just south of where the Russian River meets the sea. It sadly was the last time we saw one another.
We had much in common; a love for the visual, for color and composition. We were both partnered gay men, though his was not a happy marriage. When Ron and I first met, I had been with LJ 13 years, while they had been together for a dozen; he was was contemplating leaving the relationship back them, although it would take him another 6 years to do so.
In 2000, he met the love of his life, I think also via the internet. William was in Atlanta on the other side of the country. Within 6 months from when they first met, Ron relocated to be with him. They were good for each other. Their temperaments meshed well and for the first time I could remember, Ron was in love and happy. I was thrilled, but horrified. What if it didn't work out? Atlanta? An openly gay man living in the deep south? Northern California chauvinist and Jewish mother that I am, I was worried. I needn't have been. Emotionally, Ron thrived there.
I awoke this morning feeling uneasy. The cat decided I needed to have my bare shoulder kneaded with his kitty claws at half past six. I rolled over and looked at my phone for the time. There was a missed call from an Atlanta phone number, that had come in 15 minutes earlier. As cell reception at the house is spotty, I decided to wait to check the call until I was on the road for work. However, in the pit of my stomach, I already knew something was dreadfully wrong.
William answered the phone, when I called. He was composed, but somber. Ron had suffered from some major medical problems over the years and had been in the hospital not long ago. Last night, he suddenly felt short of breath. He passed out and William called 911, then started CPR, but without success. Ron was gone by the time the EMT's got him to the hospital. He was 63. This August they would have marked 10 years together.
As I sit and write this, that Ron is gone is finally beginning to hit me emotionally. I'm not shocked, but it was unexpected. I'm grieving, not just for Ron, but for William, who I came to respect and appreciate for the good man he is, the man who took my friend away from California and did what no one else had ever done. He made him happy, and for that, I'm grateful.
This was taken by William of Ron and I during their last trip to California several years back. We were out by Goat Rock on the Sonoma County coast, just south of where the Russian River meets the sea. It sadly was the last time we saw one another.
