That's what happens when you go poking around to get some tea.
I mean, it started innocently enough. I realized I hadn't seen a coworker in another department for a while and also noted he hadn't logged into our work chat app for months. He was still showing as an active employee, but I was wondering what was going on. Instead of doing the normal thing and just asking one of his colleagues—or going upstairs to see if he was actually around—I online stalked him, and that led me down the rabbit hole of despair.
I knew he was at least on track to get married last summer. Photos of him and his lovely bride are still online, but no updates on the wedding site since May. His Instagram was gone as well. That led to an outright name search on Google, and it led me to a multitude of "people finder" sites that post basic personal information—and of course a lot more, if you're willing to pony up some cash. I have never been willing to do that, and especially not for this guy, but out of curiosity on the same site where I found my coworker, I put in the name of a dear friend with whom I'd shared an apartment building in San Francisco and had moved to Palm Springs a few years ago. Rick suffered a fire just like we did, and he was absolutely verklempt that a portrait I'd done of him in drag (as Miss KC Dare) had been lost in the conflagration. We'd been in regular contact prior to the fire, but afterward it became spotty.
I'd tried reaching out a few times over the past 18 months, suggesting that I do a new (versus just a reproduction of the original) portrait using an entirely different photo. I never heard back from him. I finally called his cell about six months ago and was greeted by "this number has been disconnected."
That's never good.
I didn't know anyone else whom I could call to check on him, and quite frankly, with everything else that's happened during the intervening months, it fell off my radar completely.
Well today, after I'd filled in his name and did the search, it returned the usual name, address, age…with the addendum that their records indicated he was deceased June 2020.
Well fuck.
I'd known Rick since shortly after I moved to San Francisco (the first time) in 1986. I don't remember what brought the two of them together, but Rick and Dennis, my ex, became fast friends and partners in crime. Rick provided a lot of Dennis' care when he was stricken with AIDS and—working in healthcare as he was—helped him navigate the increasingly confusing hurdles he was faced with. A sweet, generous man who—despite an obscenely overstuffed closet (a girl can have too many dresses)—opened his home and heart to me while securing a place of my own the last time I moved back to The City.
RIP, Miss Dare. You are sorely missed, but I know we'll meet again.
"Don't be dismayed at goodbyes.
Goodbyes are necessary before you can meet again.
And meeting again, after moments—or lifetimes—is
Certain for those who are friends."
~ Richard Bach, The Messiah's Handbook