Remembering Kent
Photo Courtesy of The Names Project Foundation
I did a lot of damage to others during my years of addiction. I wasn’t a good friend—heck, I wasn’t a good person for the most part. When your primary relationship is with a drug, it is impossible to give much of yourself to others. I rarely considered how my actions might affect others but as with most things, I was in denial. If you had asked me at that time, I would have said, “Sure, I love my friends” but my actions did not always illustrate that. It wasn’t until many years later, after learning to love myself that I became the friend I am proud of being today.
However, there was one exception, when I know I was a good friend—and it was even at the height of my addiction. Writing the post for ‘Bloggers Unite for World AIDS day’ made me think of my dear friend Kent, who was the first friend I lost to AIDS. He left this world far too early and I cannot even begin to count the number of times I have thought of him and wished he were still here to be part of my life today. When Kent acquired AIDS, no one knew anything about the disease—it was so early in its existence (or at least in recognition of its existence) that it was not even called AIDS at that time. People whispered nervously about it, calling it ‘gay cancer.’ We learned later that it was AIDS that robbed Kent of his life and me of the first meaningful friendship I ever had with another person.
I knew Kent while we were both actors living in San San Francisco. At 25, he was worldly to me—I was only eighteen years old when we met. Through the course of doing several plays together, we bonded in that amazing way that occurs when friendships of the soul are formed. He was the first true friend I ever had; he loved me completely and unconditionally—and I loved him as much as I was capable of loving anyone.
Kent was gay—and his parents were not at all accepting of his sexual orientation when he came out of the closet. He had been out of touch with them for several years but when he became ill, I called them to let them know that he was very sick. Even though we didn't know the course of AIDS at that time, I knew full well how sick Kent was and I tried to stress how much he needed family. I was disgusted and amazed that they didn't even want to know where he was—they didn't want anything to do with him, even though I told them I thought he might die. Having AIDS was a lonely place to be in those days. Toward the end of his life, Kent was so sick that he had to be hospitalized. Everyone was so terrified of this mysterious disease that was so cloaked in shame and fear—even the doctors and nurses that tended to Kent wore space suits when they entered his room.
Kent died a lonely death, for the most part. To my knowledge, I was the only person who visited him. The only flowers in his room were ones I brought—the only cards were the ones I wrote to him. It made me feel terrible that nobody stood by Kent when he needed friends the most, which is probably why I made such an effort to be his friend in those awful final days. He had no one else, so I made it a point to visit him every day—I could see how much he appreciated my coming but it never occurred to me to do anything else. He was my friend and I loved him. Period. It really was as simple as that.
One day, when I stopped by his room, his face was turned toward the window, staring intently out. He lay motionless even after I called his name and within a moment, I realized he was weeping, which took me by surprise because Kent always put on such a brave face for me. Concerned, I walked to his bedside, took both his hands in mine, and asked him why he was crying. He turned his tear-stained face to me, whispering, “Melinda, I so miss being hugged.” And then I realized that I hadn’t hugged my good friend for a long time—perhaps even I was afraid in some part of myself, although I certainly didn’t realize that at the time. Seeing him so desolate — so utterly dejected, I immediately got into the bed with him, wrapped my arms around him, and told him, “I will never be afraid to love you.”
Even though I was a junkie at that time—I have always been proud of the fact that I was there for this great friend when he needed me most. For once during those years of self-absorption, I got out of myself and considered what I might be able to do for a friend who needed me. I am so grateful that I was able to be there for Kent—and honestly? I miss him to this day.
Peace,
Melinda
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Respected mam
I think that you were at that time passing through a phase of self denial. You must be feeling as if nobody loves you. All the bad things happen with you. So it becomes natural for a person in such a situation to be sincere with someone with whom otherwise you would not have been so. You wanted to show that this is the treatment which you want. There should be someone who should be there for you in all times. This feeling is natural for a person in your situation. As far as my little knowledge allows to disseminate.
As far as friend is concerned he who helps you in the times of need is your friend. It's as simple as this. Everyone laughs with you when you are happy but a friend will cry for you when you are sad. This is friendship.
Take care
harneet singh
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Dear Harneet,
Thank you for your thoughts. I really did love Kent--we were great friends for the time we knew each other--it was one of those friendships where you immediately bond with another person, you have that much in common.
I love the way you put that, "Everyone laughs with you when you are happy but a friend will cry for you when you are sad. This is friendship." Just beautiful.
Nice to see you again!
Melinda
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Yes you are right there are sometimes that it just clicks at the very moment. I really appreciate that you remained true to your words till the end. Perhaps you can look back and can clearly see who you were really in those days. That was the real Melinda Tyler.
Friendship is a very sacred relation but alss not many people understand. The world would have been muc better place otherwise.......
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Dear Harneet,
Thank you so much--I appreciate your kind words. And I do agree, we should all treat our fellow human beings as friends and then the world surely would be a better place.
Take care,
Melinda
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It must have been very comforting to Kent to have you as a friend and I'm glad that you were able to do that even in the midst of the necessary self-absorption of addiction.
I remember one afternoon in the hospital with Kevin where I just started to rub his head. He had been in the hospital for months, hooked up periodically to a ventilator, an IV stuck in his arm, a tube surgically implanted in his stomach, mostly unable to walk -- in short, tied to a bed and surrounded by machinery. As I was rubbing his head, he closed his eyes in pleasure and I realized how little he was touched by anyone except hospital personnel. I still regret not touching him more often, providing foot rubs and head rubs, more hand-holding.
I think there is something dehumanizing about being hospitalized and can imagine that it was even worse for someone with AIDS, especially in the 80s.
You were a good friend to Kent.
Jennifer
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Thanks so much, Jennifer--it really has given me a great deal of comfort to know I was there for him. He was there for me in our friendship in important ways that I didn't go into. He was a true friend--the type of person who would have done anything for you. He used to make me laugh so much--I really do miss him.
Romania
It's wonderful that you were able to touch Kevin--and you know, you are right--there is an enzyme that is secreted in our biological system when we are touched. In fact, in the over-crowded orphanages in
Take care, Jennifer--
Melinda
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How beautiful that you were there for Kent and how wonderful a friendship. This grew out of all the mess in your life...reminds me of the term "wounded healer." You made your light shine loud and clear to Kent despite what you only thought was darkness.
For me with my clients and families, it was an honor to "be there" for them; however, no matter the pain. It takes a lot from the person dying to allow someone else into that private place of pain. He honored you as well.
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Hi CC,
What an appropriate term (wounded healer)--I have never heard that before but it definitely fits.
I feel the same way--that it was an honor to be with Kent--I know for certain he would have been there for me. You are a very special person to be able to help people through the end of life.
Thank you so much for your beautiful comments.
Melinda
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I think it was the true you that crawled into bed with him and loved him - the you that proved to be stronger than drugs.
I remember people being afraid to touch or be around gay people, and I had some of this reluctance myself. Being gay with AIDS in the 80s - probably some of man's most loneliest experience in the grand scheme of the universe.
I can't imagine anything my son would ever do or become that would ever cause me to reject him like that. How could anyone do that to their child? Just forget them and let them die alone? That is so wretched. I seriously can't stand people who are prejudice against homosexuals.
You are a terrific person Melinda - even then - even on drugs. I can't wait to read your complete memoir someday.
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Thanks Jen--
I honestly can't understand how anyone could do that to their child either--no matter what--you have to stick by your child, particularly one who is so ill.
I am getting really excited about my book--I honestly feel it is going to be very good.
Jen--I think you are a very kind person--and thank you so much for your sweet comments.
Melinda
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We humans need each other so desperately we cannot be well without being loved and touched. Touch is our oldest, most primitive and pervasive sense. It's the first sense we experience in the womb and the last one we lose before death. In a Harvard Medical School study of an overcrowded orphanage in Romania, researchers found that babies who lay for hours without physical human contact suffered stunted growth and had abnormal levels of cortisol. Other research has shown that babies who are touched and held frequently fuss less, sleep better, and even have stronger immune systems. I'm so glad that you were there to be Kent's friend.
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That's so interesting that you brought up the Harvard study, Timethief--because I had just mentioned that to Jennifer, where the condition now known as 'failure to thrive' was first understood for what it was. Touch sets off the pleasure centers of our brains--we humans need touch as we do food, or oxygen.
I am also so glad I was there for Kent--it is one of the shining memories of my former life--and there aren't too many of them at all.
You are one of the most knowledgeable people I have ever met!
Melinda
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I need to echo what others have already said - even in the midst of so much confusion and self-absorption in your own life, the real you could emerge in response to your dear friend. I know I always focus on all the terrible and hurtful things I did in the past and never the decent, loving moments. It's so hard to turn that around! Thanks for being you! By the way, I've given you a bit of recognition on my blog in appreciation for all that you have offered the rest of us. - John
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John,
Thank you so much for your kind words--they mean a great deal to me. I think many of us who are sensitive can get overwhelmed by the painful side of life--and sometimes we need to remember to stop and recognize the beauty life holds as well.
I want to also thank you for the lemonade award! I loved reading what you wrote in your latest post dedicated to that--it made my day!
Melinda
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a touching writing indeed. Keep the good work.
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Thank you so much!
Melinda
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Hi Melinda,
Thanks for sharing this touching tale of the harsh reality of the disease and thanks for flying your flag of inspiration so high,
Cheers from Dubai! xo
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Thank you so much, Go! I appreciate your stopping by my blog!
Melinda
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Melinda, as you evolve to realize every experience you are aware of is a choice you make for your own benefit, you will resist criticizing views of who you used to be. Every experience has been necessary for you to get where you are in your current awareness. You are a blessing and going through your own process to remember how to love differently. It begins inside you.
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Thank you so much, Liara--my husband often tells me the same thing--that I am far too hard on the person I used to be and that I should stop--because that person is also part of who I am today.
You are one of the wisest souls I have ever come across.
Peace,
Melinda
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O Melinda, what a friend you were to Kent. I have a feeling that your missing him is for naught, as he must be near you much of the time. I hope you realize what a groundbreaking act of love it was to get into bed with Kent, especially, as you pointed out, in the days when even those in the medical community entered his room like human condoms (ironic, isn't that....).
Not a fan of royalty or anything, but I was impressed when Princess Diana held hands with children with AIDS, still at a time when most wouldn't be near anyone with the disease. Have you ever thought of yourself as a princess? Should...your actions toward Kent were royal.
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Thank you so much, Lydia--I have to say, that experience with Kent has given me a great deal of comfort. I know for certain he would have done the same for me.
I do remember Princess Diana's great work with people who had AIDS--and I admired her so much for that. AIDS is still stigmatized (unfortunately) but nowhere near the way it used to be.
Thank you again for your lovely comments.
Melinda
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