LOUIS

Sad news this morning: Louis is gone.

It’s not that we weren’t expecting it, he was very ill.  It is good to think that his suffering is over, but those of us who loved him must now shift into a new, unwelcome reality.  Mourning his loss with be felt in different degrees – from Robert’s acute pain in the loss of his life partner, the love of his life, to the long-distance sad absence of a friend and brother-in-law for me, plus the multitude of people in between – friends, colleagues, neighbours, parishioners – he touched so many people in his 67 years.

I spent the waning hours of Louis’ life reflecting on how he has enriched mine.  If he were to hear me say that he would no doubt down-play my words, but I also hope that he would take the praise to heart.  The honesty he lived in his life forced me to grow as a person too.  I owe him.

We met when we were just kids, classmates in grade six I think, growing up in rural Saskatchewan in the ‘60s and ‘70s.  You’d be hard pressed to find a more mundane, ordinary existence … school work, family life, daydreaming about future plans.  We lived in the insulated bubble of ‘normal’ our parents provided us by keeping awkward topics out of daily discourse, creating a rose-coloured-glasses type of world which neatly sorted people into ‘natural’ and ‘taboo’.  I can’t imagine what it felt like to grow up ‘taboo’.

Almost certainly though, it caused Louis’ growth as a human being to far outstrip mine.  He grew to be an intelligent, caring, sensitive, giving adult.  Conversations with him challenged me to think much deeper than I normally would.  Meals he hosted were delicious and fun.  I loved his sharp sense of humor.  Long before he told us he was gay he had established who he really was – a warm and wonderful human being.  I was so comfortable with these truths that his coming out left me to reconcile what society said about ‘taboo’ people and what I could see with my own eyes.  I had some growing of my own to do.

Not that it was easy.  Societal inuendo, self-proclaimed comfort zones, and outright public fear-mongering left me bouncing between shame, anger and self-righteousness, but I always seemed to end up asking myself “If it’s this bad for me, an observer, what was it like for him to live it?”  With this question in mind it was impossible not to grow.  He was a person of kindness and integrity, of intelligence and education, someone whose voice and laughter sounded just like his mother’s.  This latest piece of information about him didn’t alter any of these well-established qualities.  In the end I realized it was much more beneficial to accept and learn from others than to stand back and judge them.  I have Louis to thank for that.

He lived a full, happy life.  He travelled in his career as an air steward, seeing much of the world.  He even arranged to be in Beijing when we were so that he could buy us supper.  His first career choice was the priesthood and he fulfilled that dream too, serving his God and his parish in his community in Nova Scotia.  But, the happiest, most precious thing in his life was to find Robert and have the solid, loving, mutual support relationship that all human beings long for – and deserve.

All day long I’ve been reading and rereading the tributes sent to Robert and the rest of the family.  One of them came close to what I’ve been trying to say here – that Louis and Robert’s relationship had forced the writer out of her pre-conceived notions and into growth and an awareness she had lacked before.  It’s strange to use the word ‘force’ when speaking of Louis, he was a gentle soul and led by simple example.  In another way, though, his quiet resolve was indeed a force to be reckoned with.

R.I.P. Louis.  We are better people for having known you.