Repost from 2/2/2008: Of Rubber Bears, Remeberance and Grandkids

The first two days of February have become very emotional ones for me these last two years. It was in 1999 that my lover, Peter "Rubberbear" Tolos died while in surgery. It was the first day of what essentially became a two year tailspin in my life. It ended with me in a hospital in 2001, recovering from severe depression and a nervous breakdown. To this day, as the end of January rolls around, I feel those pangs of guilt that somehow, I should have done more for him. In the following years, I have come to realize that the work we did together from 94 to his passing (and for me, after) has affected the journeys of many men. It plays a crucial part of my book, Skin Tight: Rubbermen, Macho Fetish and Fantasy. Up until two (now 4) years ago, February first meant me moping about, being depressed, and lighting a candle in Peter's name.

But in 2006, I was at my Mother's home helping her recover from knee replacement surgery. I had my moment of reflection that evening before going to sleep, only to be the recipient of a call the next day from my partner, Joel. He breathlessly told me that his older daughter Nomi had given birth that morning to our first grandchild, named Shoham. She has brought me so many smiles in the last months that she helps to shade the loss of Peter with the joy of new life. On the day she first called me "Sabba Tim" (grandfather), I just melted. (And I promptly gave her Ice Cream.) She has added so many little treats to Joel and my life – not too mention that of her Mothers' lives – that now I see the first days of February not as something to dread and weep over, but as something to anticipate and be excited for. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of my Peter, yet each day I think about that smiling little girl who loves to come to her granddads with her arms in the air saying "Uppy! Uppy!" While Shoham merely wants us to lift her in the air, she could just as easily be describing the affect she has given to my heart.