"A post about dead people that is too long for anyone to actually read:

Perhaps this is not so unusual among gay men of a certain age, although we never talk about it, but I am often reminded of men I have loved who have died, not all of them from that way that was so popular among us for awhile. Sometimes late at night in those moments when the mind seems less guarded, they return in a sort of parade, a sizable list, other times it is a glimpse of something, a joke they might appreciate, an accomplishment I bet they would celebrate.

One great benefit of being gay, especially being gay when it was much less fashionable than it is today, is that my life has been filled with creative, joyful, intelligent men who came together because the world held no place for them. I miss them.

The great benefit of having buried (or more likely burned - cremation is all the rage among gays) so many friends is that I've learned to be always aware of the brevity of life, that decisions are almost always trivial even the big ones, and that one never forget to tell people they are loved. This entire paragraph sounds trite but is entirely true.

I'm privileged my life now is also filled with people I adore, and death is such a conversation killer, so I rarely mention the ones who lurk unseen, on the edges, but who I often want to turn to and say "Look at where we are and how we got here."

- Wolf Sterling