CURLY BLONDE HAIR

By

MICHAEL S. WITHERSPOON

They lay together on the hospital bed. One stroking the others hair and head. The families are all gone now. It’s just the two of them there. The walls were as stark white as the sheets. The lights are dimmed now. Framed artwork of unknown painters hanging on every wall. Pictures so bland that they seemed to seep into the white paint of the walls. Bland. Just like the food that was served here, it served a purpose, but it lacked depth, quality and most of all taste.

The hour is early. Somewhere between darkness and dawn, yet, undefined. There’s only the noise of air conditioner vents grinding on. It’s a private room. Very private. Thoughts and memories were bouncing off of walls and resounded to their owner. Memories of all the years that had brought them to this point. Memories of how they met, courted, loved, fought and loved again. And lived. Oh how they had lived. Not your normal everyday existence. They lived life to the fullest. Had met every challenge that faced them and never ran away. Sometimes, alone with thoughts, one might forget the depth and strength of the love they shared. But not for long enough. They depended on each other, fed off of each other and they complimented each other. Where one would fail, the other would be right behind to pick up the pieces and get them on the road to recovery. None who knew the two as individuals, would ever put this picture together. And yet, in a Salvador Dali sort of way, it worked for them. It would not work for everyone, hell sometimes it didn't work that well for them. But always in the end things worked out.

They had built a house and a business together, along the highway of their lives. Successful ones. Born of their differences and similarities and with plenty of mistakes along the way. Families who supported them, showed pride in them, their dreams and accomplishments, and were there for support also when the failures came and went. They were never allowed to actually marry, being gay men, but they did have a commitment ceremony, a holy union as it were, and invited the ones they loved. They called all their friends and families to join in their union and celebrate the love they shared and made a statement to the gay and straight communities that this was not something to be taken lightly, for they did not, and would not tolerate any to tried to drive a wedge between them.

The years passed and both had been favored with Godchildren. Children who would grow up and not question why they were together. To this generation, they would be as normal as a mated pair of socks. Never a question. And maybe then this would be the enlightened generation. Perhaps as they grew to adulthood, their generation would be the first to see the legalization of marriage between two people who love each other, with that alone being the only criteria.

But, one of them would not be here to ever see that day come. He had passed away several hours ago, just before visiting hours ended. The family had stayed until about 10 pm and then had left the two of them to be together for awhile. And the survivor laid there on the bed there with him, playing with the curly locks of blonde hair, as he had done on many a night so that his lover could drift off to sleep. He combed his hair with his fingers again and again while waited for them to come and get his partner in life and love.