David Wells committed suicide on September 24, 1984. He was my best friend, and I loved him. My mother was too stoned at the time to get me the grief counseling I needed. I spent more than thirty years mourning for him, but I never grieved for him because I was too afraid of my homosexuality. Crying is what gay guys did.
When I got back his memory after the stroke, I started having flashbacks to our childhood and when I found out about his death. They would occur at random times, complete in full color, with sounds and smells. It was as if it was happening all over again and each time I would break down crying. It was extremely miserable for me. Finding his grave brought some small comfort; still though it was a start.
On February 6, 2017, I started going to grief counseling. This was the exact same date, one year later, that the Holy Spirit told me he had a brother (I DO NOT BELIEVE IN COINCIDENCE !!!) I was finally getting the help I had not received when I was fourteen. The couselor (who is a psychologist) helped me to see that I loved him (no sex involved), that I was confusing sex with love, and the reason I acted out in the gay lifestyle was that I was missing him, and sought out his missing friendship through sex with other men. Not finding my lost friendship, I would go on to other men, never finding it.
I am much better now. I can now have a rational conversation about him without breaking down into a blubbering heap. I visit his grave about once a month now. It helps to talk to him, even though I know he can’t hear me. I have forgiven him for hurting me. I have told him “good-bye” (the last time I saw him I said “See you later.”) These things are good. They help me heal.
But what started that healing was when David’s brother, Steve, gave me that passage from Matthew 22:32 “…God is not god of the dead, but of the living.” This one passage began restoring the damage that my step-mother did to me, and for that, I’m grateful.