Entries Tagged 'Family' ↓

When the last of the elders is gone, then we become the elders.

That line was uttered on an episode of The Sopranos a few seasons back and has always stuck in my head.

This weekend I learned that my uncle Maurice, my father�s sole surviving sibling, passed away down in Texas. He died four months to the day after my father. There are no more living members from that branch of the family tree.

I did not know my uncle very well. My dad had a somewhat strained relationship with his family. When he left Dallas, first to go to college and later to serve during World War II, he never really looked back. I met my paternal grandparents and his brothers and sister when I was very young, but have little recollection of those meetings and had only minimal contact as I grew up. If you believe in a hereafter, then the entire family has been joined together again, somewhere.

In contrast, I have always known members of my mother�s family, even distant cousins, and can with a little help even draw the family tree of my maternal grandfather�s family.

Despite not having a close connection to dad�s kin, there is now a strange sense of loss in knowing that an entire segment of my ancestry no longer walks the earth. My brothers and I, and the nephews and niece of two of them, are now the only direct descendents who carry the family name. There are cousins descended from grand uncles and aunts I never met, living somewhere, but I have no relationship with them. This latest passing closes a door that never really opened and I find myself reacting to the fact that I don�t know where I came from, paternally-speaking, and now may never know.

In my professional work, I provide training and technical assistance to staff of non-profit social service agencies in and around the New York metropolitan area, many of whom are in some way involved in HIV/AIDS services and supportive housing issues. They may also be involved in a plethora of related concerns.

This week a co-worker and I delivered an excellent and well-received two-part training on how to be a more effective public speaker. About 13 people from various agencies attended, including two gentlemen from an organization representing Black LGBT folks 50 and over. As a component of our training, participants were required to deliver a five minute presentation on a topic of their own choosing. They both chose topics related to being Black and gay and over 50.

While there were many things I already knew about the subject matter, what came through loud and clear was the sense of isolation and loss of community that many of our folks feel when they reach their senior years. Despite efforts by their organization and others around the city, social, educational and recreational events get small turnouts and they are at wits end trying to find ways to reach this population. However, everyone believes it is larger than the popular perception. For reasons unknown, older Black gay folks are choosing to stay home rather than venture out.

However, in a community that places so much emphasis on youth and beauty, projecting the notion that even 30 is old and undesirable, should it surprise anyone that those over 50 find few reasons to engage? They are no doubt asking, �What�s out there for them?� I know 20-somethings who are tired of the limited offerings of bars and clubs. Since even those don�t cater to seniors, I can only imagine the disinterest in searching for social alternatives grows exponentially with each passing decade.

Yet, without support networks of family or friends, are our elders destined to live out their remaining years alone? What responsibility does the younger Black LGBT community have to involve itself and seek solutions here? Who (if anyone) is studying the very specific needs and concerns of Black LGBT seniors? Assuming we will all grow old one day, are there not benefits to be derived for seniors now and ourselves in the future?

Today would have been my father�s 85th birthday. That he lived to see 84 years is a feat in itself and I am happy for all the time we had together. I think of him everyday and carry his picture with me. Happy birthday, Dad.

The hospice facility that he was about to enter just before he passed has offered bereavement counseling to our family for up to 13 months. They are located back home and thus not easily accessible to me, although they do offer telephone counseling services. I honestly don�t believe that I am in need of this assistance, although it is appreciated. Because of his slow, but steady decline over the years due to the Alzheimer�s, a lot of the grieving happened before he died. I watched him leave us over the past 5 years or so. The actual passing brought a sense of relief to a large degree.

But I do acknowledge I have many other unaddressed and unresolved personal issues that were impacted by his passing. Pre-existing feelings of isolation and loneliness, heightened awareness of my own mortality and the desire to still achieve many things while the clock is ticking, midlife-related emotional and sexual needs and anxieties, were all exacerbated. Consequently, I have finally decided to seek out professional assistance to deal with these and any other residual issues that may surface. I can�t promise you I�ll share any details of those sessions in this space, but I will continue to talk about things going on in my life.

This day also comes with the news last weekend that my uncle, my father�s sole surviving sibling and immediate family member, is also suffering from dementia and was recently put in a nursing home in Texas. His decline is following familiar patterns.

Positive news was received last night about my mother, who underwent knee replacement surgery this past Monday. Recovery is going realistically well, unlike the somewhat overly optimistic objectives she had set for herself. My brothers and I are all taking a week off to go up to help out. One brother has been there this week, my week starts tomorrow, and others will take following weeks.

That period when the children become caretakers to the parents has been in effect for some time now and is an accepted fact of life. But it doesn�t make things any easier.

I want to thank all the people who sent emails, posted comments to this blog, called and sent cards and letters of condolence over the passing of my father last week. It has been a roller coaster ride of emotions these past few days and receiving so much support from so many people–many of whom I know only via our Internet exchanges–has been a source of inspiration.

The love of my extended family, many of whom traveled great distances to support my Mother, brothers and I, has done a great deal to sustain us. Were it not for the dire circumstances under which we were all brought together, it would have been a wonderful party. We had a great deal of fun in each other�s company, telling old stories and hanging out. I have some of the funniest people in my family and we laughed for hours. I also got to play cook for the whole army and enjoyed the experience.

My Dad was a remarkable man who led a full and active life of service to the community and seeing such a diverse turnout at the viewing Sunday and the funeral Monday morning was a testament to his involvement. Relationships formed more than a half century ago brought well-wishers who�d met him when they were young who were now seniors themselves.

Sadly, my uncle, Dad�s sole remaining sibling was unable to make it from Texas. Not financially capable of traveling on such short notice and beginning to show signs of dementia himself, he never fully comprehended the seriousness of my father�s illness, nor the fact that he had passed.

My mother is now a widow and for the first time in almost 60 years must face life without her husband by her side. She is a strong woman who always maintains a public composure, but I am her son, so I know firsthand that the stone face is a mask hiding emotions gingerly held just below the surface. The whole family is committed to making this transition as easy as possible for her.

In a strange way, not uncommon to families that have dealt with Alzheimer�s Disease, there is a sense of relief. My father�s ordeal is over and he is free from suffering a vastly diminished life. In turn, we are all free to try to resume our lives without the enormous emotional and physical demands of his daily care. It is not a perfect resolution because we no longer have him with us. I�m a heartbeat away from a good cry just writing this. But life must go on, and so we move forward, one day at a time.

I am convinced bad news never reaches you when you are wide awake.

My father passed during the night. He was 84. The fact that we knew it was coming has helped to take away some of the shock. Grieving has been ongoing since the Alzheimer�s took over, so when my brother�s phone call awakened me after 4:00, I was far more accepting and far less devastated than when my mother made a similar call eleven years ago with the startling news of my brother Stan�s death.

I�ll pack and make the trip home today, as will my other brothers. I had planned to go home tomorrow anyway in hopes of seeing him one last time. Now we�ll make preparations to send him off.