Remembering my Grandpa

By Adam Bink

This will be my last post until early next week as I attend funeral services.

I was going to write this post as just an update, but telling funny stories has helped through this, so I’d just like to share as it relates to this community.

Yesterday morning my Grandpa passed away back home in Western New York. He was 100 years old. I already miss him so much it hurts.

I was thinking about generations and coming out. I made a promise not to come out to my Grandpa a long time ago, one which I have kept until the end.

For those of you who know me, you know how fierce an advocate I am. Harvey Milk’s clarion call to come out because we must be visible, lest we be persecuted and die in the closet, guides a part of my dyed-in-the-wool core belief to be open and proud about who we are so LGBT people will be respected.

But I was always okay with being silent to Grandpa. There are two reasons.

One is because of a story. Grandpa also has a granddaughter (my sister) who is married to a man. He also has two more grandchildren (my male and female cousin, who are the same age as my sister and I) who are also married to a woman and a man, respectively. That’s four grandchildren total, three of whom are married. And then there’s me. I’ve been asked by most everyone in my extended family, before they knew I was gay, the usual questions: whether I had a girlfriend, when I’m going to get good and married, if I’m seeing anyone, until my head hurt.

Except Grandpa. I can’t ever remember Grandpa asking me, even after his wife, my late Grandma (who used to ask me) passed away years ago. Maybe I should just chalk it up to modesty, but I always thought, maybe Grandpa just knew, and whatever his personal feelings, he’d just let it be. “It is what it is,” is a phrase he used to say to me, shrugging his shoulders. And I think that was okay.

The second reason is because a few years ago, I was living with my then-boyfriend, an Indonesian immigrant with a difficult name to remember, especially for a man nearing 100 years old. Grandpa had met him a few times and liked him well enough, and knew he was my “roommate”. I remember once my sister called me and told me Grandpa had asked her, “how’s Adam and his partner down in DC?” We both laughed because we didn’t know if it was because Grandpa just couldn’t remember my boyfriend’s difficult-to-remember name, or couldn’t remember if he was my friend or roommate or what. Or the last reason- we knew Grandpa watched a lot of daytime TV, so I said, “hey, maybe Grandpa’s been watching Oprah and knows the polite term for ‘committed long-term same-sex partner’, so he’s putting it to good use!” We laughed and laughed about it.

I don’t know what the real reason was, but I always like to think it was the last reason. So even though I never came out to Grandpa, I like to think he respected who I am as a man. And that’s part of the reason I miss him so much.

This will be my last post through Tuesday morning. Posting will be light from other front-pagers here. As usual, if you would like to submit a guest piece, send it to prop8trial@couragecampaign.org.