Two years ago I moved my 80-year-old father closer to me so I could take care of him. We had been best friends from the day I was born. We are so much alike, we have the same ridiculous sense of humor, and we know what each other is thinking without saying a word. Caring for him deepened our friendship, and about six months in, some of the questions from my childhood started creeping back into my mind. My whole life, I felt like something was off. As a child, I knew my family was different, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. There were things that just didn’t quite add up. Things that didn’t make sense. I remember asking questions and not being satisfied with the answers I received. It hit me one night as I was driving home from his apartment. I turned the car around and went back. I opened the door and without hesitation asked, “Are you gay?”
As the words fell out of my mouth, a sense of peace came with it. A sigh of relief and a deep understanding. In the seconds before he responded, I felt as if all of my childhood questions were finally answered.