Life Matters: "Nothing Bad Happens, Ever."

"When you gonna make up your mind?
When you gonna love you as much as I do?
When you gonna make up your mind?
'cause things are gonna change so fast."

Tori Amos, "Winter"

December 18, 1984: My parents, sisters and I were having dinner at my Tio Mario and Tia Jessie's when the phone rang. My paternal grandfather and namesake, Antonio, had suffered a heart attack and died. I was 7, and I have never been the same.

I recall parts of the car ride to my grandparents' home, but I don't recall leaving my Tio and Tia's home. Certain details, some undoubtedly important, some seemingly trivial, I cannot forget.

I remember looking at my grandmother, Esperanza, when we arrived, and not wanting to believe that my grandfather was dead but knowing instantly that it was true. I remember the funeral and feeling not only that I had lost my grandfather, but that I had also lost a part of me.

Death made its mark on my life early, and it made its mark often. My cousin Robert. My high school band teacher, Mr. Jenkins. My childhood friends, Primavera and her brother Raulie. Great-aunts and great-uncles. My Tio Lencho. My Tio Zeferino. Family friends, young and old.

When I was 16, my Grandpa Tony (my stepfather's father), had a heart attack and we arrived at my grandparents' home before the paramedics. I had recently received my CPR certification, and so choking back tears, I performed CPR. I remember thinking he would be okay - as he continued to breathe, as I continued to breathe - and then his breathing stopped, and I was heartbroken.

To this day, I have never renewed my CPR certification.

On June 21, my Tio Mario and Tia Jessie's daughter, Jessica, died at the age of 25 following a brief battle with cancer. I had hoped to bring Jessica and her partner Jo to San Francisco this year to experience Pride one last time, but it was not to be. Instead, I was in Sacramento over Pride weekend for Jessica's funeral services.

I channeled much of my grief into the campaign to defeat Proposition 8. Although we lost the election, I enjoyed being a part of something bigger than myself, and I felt more alive after the campaign, not least of all because it was a way for me to keep Jessica alive.

I used to really dread the thought of surviving, but this year I am somehow finally comfortable with it, given the alternative.

The inimitable Joan Fountain, a beautiful, life-loving woman who bought me my first computer, died of heart failure at the age of 47 in 1997. Joan wrote a book, Nothing Bad Happens, Ever. I've never read Joan's book, but today I ordered a copy on-line and I can't wait to read it.

I don't know what the future holds - I don't know how long I have to enjoy my life - but I know that I have this moment, and that life's too short to let it pass me by.

As long as I am alive (and my memory is intact :-), I will always remember 2008 as the year I decided that I really want to live. Life matters. And I love it :-)