12 years ago this week I lost my dear friend Ira to AIDS. It was the end of a torturous 5 years of watching him slowly turn into a ghost of himself.
I met Ira when I was attending the University of North Florida in Jacksonville. We were both in the same Marketing Class. It was early in the year of 1988. I watched Ira intently all semester. I watched his hand movements and the way he walked. I studied him. On the last night of class I went up to him and asked him if he wanted to get a coke at the boat house. He must of thought I was a little nuts since I hadn't spoken to him all semester until now. But Ira said sure. That's the kind of guy Ira was. He had a big heart. I guess he saw something in my eyes that told him I needed something from him.
As we sat there over cokes, my heart beat 1000 beats a minute. This was a terrifying experience for me. I probed Ira with questions trying to determine if I was correct in my assumption about him. Oh you have a degree in French? Thats a good sign I thought. Oh you've done work on a broadway show? A very good sign. No wedding band. Good sign. So I took a leap. A leap over a chasm I had been staring at for 20 years. I said, Ira, I'm gay! And he said, so am I. A simple verbal transaction that changed my life forever.
We became friends. We both loved tennis. We played most Sunday mornings while his partner was playing piano at a church. We ate lunch together a couple of times a week. He listened to me patiently as my feelings poured out. Then a few months later I told him I was going to Key West to try and have my first experience. He was concerned that I wasn't ready for that yet. But I went and met Billy and kissed Billy and took the next step down the road.
I left Jacksonville and moved to Atlanta later that year, leaving Ira behind. Then in April of 1989 he talked me from the hospital in Jacksonville to tell me that he had AIDS and was scared to death. I talked with him often during the following months and then his partner got transferred to Atlanta and Ira reentered my life. We spent many good times with Ira and Bill, listening to their stories about alternative treatments and regimens and positive thinking workshops. But AIDS was winning. Ira became a pale thin reflection.
Then he was bedridden and quickly after that we got the call that he was in the hospital. We spent several nights there with Ira and Bill's other close friends and Ira's parents keeping vigil. Then he was unconscious.
Then we were in his room watching the heart monitor record his ever slowing heart beat, 45, 32, 21, 12 beats a minute. We each held on to Ira as his heartbeat slowed. Then there was none. He was gone.
What a tremendous loss. My angel Ira.