After I discussed LGBT issues with my parents as my father lay on his deathbed, my rainbow family of choice helped see me through
I planned to write a column this Pride weekend reflecting on the progress we’ve made as members of the North Texas LGBTQ community since September 2012. But, as sometimes happens, life gets in the way.
On Sept. 1, my father died after a short stay in hospice. He was 86 years, eight months and just over six days old when an infection, blood clot or who-knows-what killed him. Dad met my mother in the Eisenhower era, when automobiles had fins and being “LGBTQ out and proud” was extremely risky. Remember, this generation thought Liberace was straight.
I came out to my parents at our family’s last major funeral, in May 1996. My grandmother — my mom’s mother — passed on, and Mom and I were driving back from finalizing the burial arrangements. Mom was going on and on about the things my grandmother would never see me do — among them “marrying the girl of my dreams.” Something inside me snapped then, and I told my mother “that’s never going to happen, because I’m gay.” Her response? “Well, I knew that.” Mom told Dad I was gay that evening.
Unless you are writing the next great Southern Gothic novel or play, don’t come out to your family as part of funeral preparations. Please pick another time.
You might think that somebody like me, who is so out and visible, would have model PFLAG parents. Well, no. Most of my time at the Resource Center, it’s been “don’t ask, don’t tell” when it comes to the work I do, who I’m dating and the like. Occasionally, there’d be questions when I’d pop up in the newspaper or on TV. In March 2012, dad was in the hospital for an angiogram. Days earlier, I was interviewed about a local pro sports team owner who’d made an ill-advised gay joke for which the team owner apologized. Dad’s words to me: “I saw you on TV the other day. You were taking about Mr. (sports owner). I think he’s a jackass.”
Two days before Dad entered hospice, he and I sat in his ICU room. Dad asked what my schedule was that week. I told him I was going the next day to a DART meeting where I’d arranged speakers in support of plus-one health benefits. He mentioned seeing a news story in April when a protest interrupted the meeting. I added I was volunteering at a fundraising event on Thursday as part of a club I joined. Dad looked at me, and said: “You do good work. I expect you to keep your schedule this week.” I took that as an order from him, so I did.
Friday, in hospice, Dad was in and out of consciousness. Mom and I sat with him, chatting. Then out of the blue, she said: “Your father and I have a question for you. We saw the news stories about that Supreme Court case in June, and there were a whole bunch of rainbow flags. What do they mean?” So I explained, and that led to a discussion about employment nondiscrimination, healthcare coverage, hospital visitation, bullying and a variety of other LGBTQ issues.
And, when Dad died two days later, it was my fabulous, diverse LGBTQ rainbow family-of-choice that held me up. They reached out and checked in again and again to make sure my birth family and I were OK, and attended both Dad’s rosary and funeral. In fact, four of Dad’s six funeral pallbearers are members of the Dallas Bears. None were struck by lightning inside St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
I’m fortunate to have a strong family (my siblings and their spouses have long been allies) and supportive friends. Not everybody has that network.
For example, 40 percent of youth living on the streets identify as LGBTQ, disowned and discarded by their families. There are untold others who’ve lost support — and in some cases careers and homes — when they finally identify as who they are or who they love. Some of them may be reading this column.
So, this weekend, I’m looking to the future. I want Mom to meet as many members of my rainbow family-of-choice as she can. I hope they will love her as much as I love and respect them. And maybe, someday soon, Mom will see me marry the man of my dreams here in Texas. Happy Dallas Pride.
Rafael McDonnell is communications and advocacy manager, Resource Center. He can be reached at RMcDonnell@rcdallas.org.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition September 13, 2013.
