The following is a message we received here at PFLAG Phoenix. Reprinted with permission.
April 14, 2002
Dear PFLAG-Phoenix,
I almost attended the Central Phoenix meeting last night, but I couldn’t. I needed to say “thank you,” but it’s too hard just now. You gave me an incredible gift, and you need to know.
A year and a month ago I attended my first PFLAG meeting, in tears, just days after our only daughter shared with me, and then her dad, that she is gay. I located the meeting by calling the hotline and talking with Boots Reed, who steered me toward the meeting that very night, and who made me promise that I would call back, even if I chose not to attend. I went, and picked up some materials, including [your PFLAG pamphlet] “Our Daughters and Sons,” and went to the “first timers” break out and couldn’t say a word (too many tears), and read the materials cover to cover. On pages 14 and 15 were three letters that talked to me:
1. “I hit a point where I was feeling sad and thinking about what would I say when people asked, “How is Gary?” And then it occurred to me: Gary’s fine. I’m the one who’s not. And once I reached that point, it was easier…as we met Gary’s friends, we found them to be wonderful people and realized that he’s really part of a pretty terrific community. So what’s the problem? It’s society’s problem. That’s when we figured we were over the hump.”
2. “I was teary-eyed for three months off and on. But we’ve always had a pretty good relationship. It has never changed from that. We never had an instant’s question of our love for him, and we both assured him immediately that we loved him And since then, our relationship with our son is strengthening because we have a bond simply because we know what he is up against in our society.”
3. “I have to tell you, there are so many pluses now. You begin to recognize what an incredible child you have to share this with you and to want you to be a part of their lives…[Look at] the trust that has been placed in your hands and how much guts it took to do that.”
I didn’t realize until January 28th how valuable that gift, the gift of comfort, of acceptance, of no more crying for Jen’s gayness, was. That’s the date our beautiful, talented, passionate, happy 27 year old daughter passed away from a rare seizure disorder.
For a year we laughed and enjoyed and treasured her, in all her facets, and now we treasure her friends and their memories and pictures and laughter.
And I took her [picture] with me to the Gay Pride festival and walked in the sunshine among the beautiful people and looked, unsuccessfully as it turned out, for a “Mom Knows” button, which I didn’t pick up at that first meeting…
Thank you. You never know the lives you touch, and how important the touch may be.
Jen’s mom