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Jeff, 1995. |
Jeff,
1999
The group walked back to Jeff. Music, afternoon sunlight, and a breeze from outside settled him; candles cast a warm glow on the walls near his bed. Jeff lay curled up, just as if for a nap. Emotions came up quickly and quietly for the gathering. Jeff was mostly unconscious. When his blankets slipped down, he opened his blue eyes and looked at them. Typical to his style he seemed to ask, "What are you all doing here. I'm sleeping," and then refocused on pulling up his sheets.
Each person said goodbye. Some whispered in his ear, others rubbed his head, hugged, and kissed him. He responded by moving into a friendly body like a child. Jeff died within a few hours.
In his last moments he turned to his mother and grandmother and told them that he saw Denís, the lover he had lost. Sitting on his bed his mother said, "Visit me in my dreams." Kathryn's mother turned to her and said, "You have to let him go." After a pause Kathryn told her son, "It's ok. You can go. I love you Jeff." Moments later he took his last breath.
About five months later, Kathryn came to a BAY Positives holiday party and we gave her a framed picture of Jeff, one of those you see here, as a token of our support and love for her. She began volunteering at the office in January 2000 and has been coming in with Jeff's black dog Baby ever since. One of her favorite jobs is separating strips of condoms.
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