Tucciarelli, Biaggio A

You died in my arms at 9:21 AM, on the 21st of September, 1988. 24 hours before I had to make the decision on whether or not to remove your feeding tube and end your life. Seven months in a coma - you didn't want to let go. - Losing you destroyed me. At your funeral, while acting as the lead pallbearer for your casket, your Uncle came up to me and shoved me, then punched me, and forced himself upon your casket in front of 500 people. I had to leave the church. I was humiliated. Your family shunned me. They blamed me for your death. I ached to have someone to tell of your death. We were alone, you and I. No one knew. - In the two years that followed, self-destruction was my path. I was so alone. - I've thought of you every day of my life since. - I've healed, and found real, tangible, everlasting love (again.) But I still miss you, every single day. Your death was a crime committed by a homophobic, negligent doctor who had a vendetta against you. Karma has a way of working its deeds; the doctor's home and practice burned in the Camp Fire of 2018; marking the 30th anniversary of your death that he caused. Ours were magical times, filled with innocence, laughter and smiles. Gio, I love you and I will never forget you.