When I got to the lawyers office at 9:45 AM it reminded me of a lot of corporate buildings I'd been in before. They all seem alike to me and this one in Atlanta is no exception.

I found the ante room. The receptionist invited me to sit down. The furniture was nice. The place was decorated in typical "modern south" decor and everything was just right. She offered me an espresso or capuccino but I already had a knot in my stomach. I didn't know what to expect but I sure as hell knew I didn't want to see that red headed gorgon of a sister again. I was hoping she wouldn't show up.

The existence of a will surprised me but it shouldn't have. They always made us keep our wills and powers of attorney up to date when we were in the military, especially those of us who were in line units likely to see more action. The fact of Joe having his affairs in order also came as no surprise. He was a "Marine's Marine." Tidy, organized and highly disciplined.

There was a sound at the door. I looked up. It was the sister. She sat down right across from me and pulled at her husband's sleeve. He had been coming over to shake my hand, having stuck his out but she yanked him back and he sat down with a sheepish smile.

"What are YOU doing here?" she hissed.

I didn't answer. I just looked back down at my magazine that I hadn't been reading anyway. It took me a minute to process the fact that my being here was a surprise to her. That must mean that the attorney didn't say anything to her, just that he couldn't do the will at the original time, thus had to reschedule.

That thought made me confront another idea that hadn't occured to me at all. Simply, WHY was I SUPPOSED to be there? I hadn't given it a single thought. I'm not a conclusion jumper. Neither do I run scenarios through my imagination. I'm pretty good at the "wait and see."

Now I was curious though. She was surprised and resentful to see me AND she rearranged her schedule to hear the will read.

At the moment I was mulling this over, the door opened and out of the office came the attorney whom I had (up to that point) only heard on the phone. I recognized him the minute I saw him. He and a date/boyfriend/what? had been in the same restaurant that my pals and I had eaten in the night before. It was a gay restaurant. Of course I only noticed them as the goodlooking couple at the next table. I had no idea he was Joe's attorney at that point.

He invited us into the conference room. It was the door next to his office door. Nice room.

I sat down on one side of the table and the gorgon and her mate sat on the other.

"This is a straightforward, uncomplicated will" the attorney said. "It is well notorized, regularly updated and witnessed legally. There are no irregularities. In fact, it is one of the better wills I've seen, notwithstanding the fact that I drafted the original."

The sister was getting impatient, shifting around in her chair.

"Let's begin" the lawyer continued " by reviewing the assets listed in the will".

To be blunt, I was stunned. I knew Joe invested. I knew Joe had some properties, a couple rentals and a couple commercial things going on. I knew Joe was generous to a fault but good with his money. What I did not know was that he had made a hobby out of investing and saving since he was a kid and that he watched and managed his portfolio meticulously (although it didn't surprise me. he was that way about everything). What I did NOT know was that Joe left an estate worth over three million dollars not including insurance.

The lawyer, after reading the assets informed us that Joe had established college funds for both his neices that were in trust. They would be administered by the attorney until the girls were each twenty one, at which time they would take over management of the accounts or whatever remained in them. The only stipulation was that the girls attend liberal arts, not religious institutions. (The redhead was livid). Joe apparently knew his sister well.

The remaining (approximately) 3 million dollars in cash, investments and real estate assets were, in short - left to me. I thought my heart was going to stop and I thought the woman was going to have a stroke.

After a moment, she asked "What about insurance?"

"Joe also left the insurance to his husband." The attorney answered. And it was a BIG policy. Big.

"Further" said the lawyer "The insurance is in Euros, purchased from Allianz in Germany and will be paid there. It is unasailable as the European courts all recognize the full legality of Buzz and Joe's marriage license from Copenhagen. The same is also true for the European investments. The American investments are covered separately, not as a spouse inheritance listed in the will but as a beneficiary designated legally by Joe in the will. Further, Joe has left a letter in the will detailing the fifty percent split between himself and you, the sister, when the parents left you equal portions of their considerable estate. In short, you will just be wasting your money if you contest this will and you will only be able to contest 1/3 or the assets as the rest are in Europe. Joe has left his estate, properly, to his husband." The attorney was silent.

"Husband!" she screeched. "Blasphemy! Haters of God! Anti-American CRAP! Debauched European pseudo-sensible CRAP!" she spat out. "In America MEN CANNOT MARRY MEN! Thank GOD!"

"They can in Massachusetts and Hawaii" said the lawyer. With that he stood up and exited the room leaving me a wealthy man and her in tears. "Sorry" the husband mouthed as they left the room.

I hope he dumps her. He's way too nice for her.

So I sat there alone. I started to cry again. I could care less about the money, I'd give it all away if it could bring Joe back but I'm not the first person to ever say that and I won't be the last.

The receptionist came in. She saw me crying and brought me tissues then she sat down next to me.

"You see" the receptionist said, "I agree that people who love each other should marry. You're lucky because you have what so many other men here don't. You had the chance. You got married. You made your love into a union. You see, they can't do that here. But because you two were in Europe you had the chance. I know it's a horrible loss but you got to go so much farther and look... he cared for you after his death. Someday it might be like that here."

"Yes, someday." I managed to say. I just felt like I wanted to die. But then I got up and adjusted my tie in the mirror and wiped away the rest of my tears and left. I had to go find Eric and tell him what happened.

I stayed at Eric and Phil's place late. All our friends ended up there as well as Eric's brother and his wife, his mom and dad and Phil's parents and inlaws. We had a hell of an impromptu wake for Joe. It helped.

I got back to my hotel at three in the morning. The night clerk gave me my key. He flirted with me too. Oddly, that also helped. Wierd.

The curtains were open and there was lots of light coming in from the city. It was nice. I just lay there looking out the windows for a long time thinking about the kinds of things that float in and out but don't hang around long. Random, disassociated things. During all of it I thought of Joe.

I could hear his words as he left for Iraq, "Don't worry, if anything happens to me you have to know that I'm ready. I've lived well. Loving you is the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if I only ever got one day, one week, one month with you, it would be worth everything. If anything happens, I have lived well. You have to know that. Don't ever forget that."

I started to cry again. I looked at the clock. It was five. I'd been laying there for almost two hours just drifting in and out of thoughts. I got in the shower. I use the same kind of soap Joe did. I didn't before but I switched when we moved in togther because I didn't like the way my soap smelled next to his. His was better anyway. It made me feel close to him. I was still thinking about his words, and about how it felt to be in his arms and about how it used to be when we were in the shower together. A hundred thoughts, all at the same time.

I went to bed again but slept this time. I slept until I felt an electric drill boring into my eye and coming out the back of my head. Then I realized it was the phone ringing. God.

"Hullo?" God, it even hurt to answer the phone. How much did I drink?

"Buzz?"

"What? Who is this?" I asked.

"It's Frank, from work. Frank."

"Jesus, who?" I was still trying to comprehend where I was let alone concentrate on Frank or the truth that he was in my office, half a world away. "Frank, what the FUCK do you want? Why are you calling me?"

"Buzz - there's a lawyer. A LAWYER, Buzz. He's called the office here three times looking for you. He's from Atlanta. He works for Goff, Shanahan and Mitchell. They're downtown. In Atlanta. He's trying to find you. Do you want the number? I wouldn't tell them where you are. They thought you were back here already. They saw you at the funeral. They said you spoke. I didn't know you were going to a funeral, Buzz... was it a family memember? I'm sorry."

"Fuck. Fuck. Um, Frank, what do they want? What is this about? What is this?"

"Just copy the number down Buzz. Just call them." Frank gave me the number. I scribbled it on the note-pad next to the bedside phone (after I finally got the Ritz Carlton pen working).

Jesus my head hurt.

I went back to sleep. Finally, I woke up again because I had to pee. It was two thirty PM.

After I used the bathroom I saw the note and remembered it and how much my head hurt. I called the firm and asked for the attorney. I waited, on hold until after what seemed like five minutes I heard:

"Mr... ah..."

"Call me Buzz" I said. "My pals all call me Buzz and you may as well."

"Ah, yes, ah Mr... ah, Buzz. Well, I'm Bryant Williams. I am, well, was, your friend Joe's attorney. That is to say, your partner Joe's attorney."

"My partner?"

"Yes, I understand he was your, ah, for lack of a better term, your life partner."

"He was my husband. We were married in Copenhagen. The legality of our marriage was recognized all over Europe and in most free countries of the world including Canada. Joe was my husband. We don't lack a better term. Joe was my husband."

"Yes, ah, well, yes, of course then."

"What do you want, Bryant?"

"I want you to come to the firm. Joseph stipulated that the will could not be read without you present. You have to be here for the will. His sister insists on waiting until next week but we must, by law according to the last will and testament of the deceas... ah, of your part... ah, husband, read it in your presence as well as that of his sole surviving family member - his sister. Her husband will also be there to support her."

"My flight is tomorrow."

"They say they cannot do it tomorrow."

"Does the will stipulate or mandate their presence or only mine?"

"Only yours, sir, it's just custom to have the next of kin there but in this case only your presence is mandated by the document."

"Then you can goddamned well read it at my convenience and if she cannot attend, too bad."

"Yes sir" said Bryant Williams.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Yes sir"

"10:00 AM?"

"Yes sir" he said again.

"Good. I'll see you then."

Click. I hung up.

Then I picked up the phone and called Eric. "E," I said... "You're never going to believe this."

Then I called the airlines. I decided to stay around Atlanta to spend a few more days with my friends, and Joe's before heading back to Europe. Besides, Luke couldn't make the funeral from NEW YORK but wanted to come down. Lufthansa changed my ticket with no problem. Then I called the office and let them know.

After that, I headed out to meet some friends to pass the rest of the day not alone. I can't be alone right now. No way.

When I got outside the "Fellowship Baptist Church" I stood there for a minute letting the sun hit my face. Singing had broken out inside. There was a color gaurd at the bottom of the steps getting ready to render military honors and carry the remains that had been Joe out of the church. The guys in the color gaurd reminded me of Joe and of me but young versions. They were kids, barely in their twenties.

I looked across the parking lot at my rented Mercedes and wondered where the hell I would go. My return reservation wasn't for a couple days yet. I had been under the mistaken notion that the tearful "come right away" on the telephone from Joe's sister was an olive branch. It turned out not to be. It turned out to be yet another drama acted out by the schizo redhead.

I arrived quickly. She didn't have time to undo the invitation. After THAT phone call I didn't even bother to call a travel agent. I got dressed, threw an overnight bag together and headed for the airport hoping to find the fastest flight to Atlanta that I could. I figured I'd hit the stores with my credit card to suit up once I got there.

Lufthansa had a flight leaving in thirty minutes. I made it. 9 hours and some change later I was in the lobby of the Buckhead Ritz Carlton getting a room. Ten minutes after that I was confronted by a long silence on the phone from Joe's sister and the tenative sentence "I tried to call you back to ask you not to come after all but you didn't answer your phone. Anyway, you've wasted a trip."

"I'm here now." I said.

"What are you going to do?"

"Come to the funeral. Do you need any help? Can I do anything?"

"Yes, you can help. You can agree not to come and while you're at it, you can ask Joe's friends who are like you to not come. I don't want his funeral to be some kind of circus or political show for activists. I don't want anyone using Joey's life to make a statement."

"You're the one making all the statements." I tried to remain calm. "As for a circus" I said, "You're the one acting like a goddamned clown." I hung up the phone.

I got undressed and went into the bathroom. I turned on the shower and got out my shaving bag. Then I started to cry. I couldn't stand it. The fact that he was gone. The fact that his parents (who had been wonderful, accepting people) were both gone and that all that was left was this sister. So full of bile!

I sat on the bed and cried. It was the first time I had cried.

I got into the shower. Afterwards I ordered room service and then went to bed. I slept all night.

The next morning I called the redhead again. "When and where is the funeral?" I asked.

"Never mind. I told you I don't want to see you. You don't need to be there. You shouldn't have come. That chapter is closed. I won't see you again, ever."

"Ok" I said and hung up.

Next, I called an old friend who works for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in Atlanta. He gave me the name of the local Army Casualty Assistance Officer. I called him and found out everything I needed to find out about the funeral. Then I called every friend of Joe's in town that I know - and I know plenty of them. And they called their friends. And so on. I called all of my pals in Atlanta too. Almost all of them had already heard THE NEWS.

The morning of the funeral we all arrived at church at the same time. We agreed to do it that way and go in together. There were over a hundred of us. Over a hundred homos walking into the land of the homophobes.

Then it was over. Just like that. The funeral, my unintended speech, the whole thing - done. And I was standing on the steps wishing I could just go straight to the airport. Instead I went back to the hotel. I looked at myself in the mirror. The suit looked great (Zegna). The white shirt and tie were conservative. Joe always did like me in a suit.

I changed. While I was changing someone knocked on the door. It was Mike and Steve and Eric. They were worried about me. I finished changing. We agreed to go over to Eric's. He and his husband have a nice place with a pool, also in Buckhead - not far from my hotel. It ended up being great being there with everyone. We sat by the pool in the shade and caught up and got drunk.

I started to cry again but this time Eric put his arms around me. That's when I knew that even with the dreadful loss, I'd never really be alone. I have the greatest friends in the world.

It hurts like hell though. It just plain hurts.

The thing about funerals is that they are at once solemn and farsical. Everyone shows up and says things. Nice things. Even if they hated the guy or were jealous or hardly knew him. There's plenty of reinvention and invention. And the guy is laying there in the box. Not caring. Dead.

That's how it was at Joe's. I wasn't even supposed to be there but by god I was there. His oh so Baptist sister (Joe used to call her "her emminence") instructed me not to come as an extension of the "thanksgiving rule."

The "thanksgiving rule" was simply this. Joe could come for thanksgiving and other holidays. I could not. I used to be invited but then, one fateful year, his oldest neice (Cassie) asked right out loud at the table whether or not Joe and I were married. This is a normal question for a 6 year old to ask but to Joe's sister it was oh so much more.

We were instantly an evil influence, bent on subjugating as many young, pre-christian minds as we could to win them over to our cause. (I think our cause that thanksgiving was to get in and out without gaining five pounds). No more faggots in the Christian house. Joe didn't go back either. He was as disgusted as I was and considerably more verbal about the whole thing.

So when he was killed I was asked not to come to the funeral. Moreover, I was asked to tell "any other people like you that might want to come to please not do so as we are going to have a worship service and a christian burial."

Uh huh. That made my mind up. I called every other person "like me" that I could think of and we all went to the funeral. And there were a lot of us. Joe had a lot of friends.

Her Christian Majesty gave us all the hairy eyeball when we walked in. I gaurantee you we were the best looking people in there. Jesus Mary and Joseph you never saw so many good haircuts and Boss, Zegna, and Armani suits in a baptist church before. Next to those beeves we looked like movie stars with our lean builds and good tailoring. Joe would have been laughing but he didn't care because he was just lying there dead in the box.

The preacher preached and the choir sang and the whole thing was insipid. It was all about the Baptist sister and her kind.

Then people started getting up and saying pretty but mostly meaningless things about Joe.

Then the preacher said "Is there anyone else that would like to share a memory of Joe or say something?" The room was quiet. You could hear a pin drop as I walked up to the pulpit.

I couldn't believe I was doing it but I was halfway there before I even knew what I was doing.

I stopped and looked down at the box. It was closed because he was too much of a mess to reconstruct. I understand such things and to me it was just a box anyway. It's funny what you think about when you are staring at your lover's remains in a box at his funeral but you are the living object of hate reminding the Christian relatives of who he was.

I was thinking about the sound of the shower on Saturday mornings because he always got up before I did. And the smell of coffee. And the feel of him getting back into bed, smelling of soap. Funny how much a simple thing like that can break your heart.

I turned around and looked at the audience. Some of my friends had tears in there eyes and were leaning forward on their seats. Joe's sister's face was a drawing of loathing. She was silently shaking her head "no." Little Cassie gave a little wave. I always did get along great with Joe's nieces.

And then I said: "Jonathan loved David as himself. This is the passage of scripture from I Samuel 18:3. Samuel the prophet gave us, for all eternity, the story of the love and undying bond between Jonathan and David. These men were warriors who served a mercurial King whose policies were inconsistent and not always in the best interest of the state. These two men loved each other, pledged faith to each other and lived to be together. Jonathan was excoriated by his father for his love of David. So was David for his love of Jonathan. Their lives were at risk. Finally, Jonathan's life was taken. He died a warriors death serving a King and father who despised him. When he was gone, David understood that he would never love again, the way he had loved Jonathan. When a lover falls and dies will his beloved be explained away just because he is inconvenient to a given morality? No. He won't. When a lover falls into death his beloved will live and love again but will not forget and will not deceive. This man, This Joseph was my Jonathan and I was his David. And we fell upon each other with loving kiss and lived as one. You may pretend that it wasn't so but it was. Now my love is gone but as I look at you all, I understand that you have lost far more than I. You would not have him as he was while alive and now he is no more. Alive he was my love. He was so many things! But dead he is my memory of a life lived well and honorably and with love. To you he is a made up thing of your own choosing but he was my love and so he shall remain. How I pity you for wasting the chance to know such a man as he was while he was alive."

And then I walked down the long aisle and out the door. It was so quiet. Not a sound. As I passed the sister she whispered out (but all could hear) "God how I hate you." But I kept walking and only smiled.

BAGHDAD, Iraq (CNN) -- A bloody week for U.S. troops continues in Iraq, with three soldiers killed Wednesday night in a Baghdad-area bombing, a U.S. military spokesman said.

Fourteen hours after I read that headline my phone rang. Joe is dead. Joe who used to bring me coffee in bed every Saturday morning. That Joe. Dead. His mom and dad both died a few years ago. His sister called me. She wants me to come there right away. I don't think I can do it. I can't quite figure it all out. Joe. Gone.

I am alone. And it's probably going to stay that way. Especially if the conservatives and neo-cons keep it up. Here's why I think so: I'm a gay man working for the federal government. Like many people, my social life is woven into my work life (although not entirely). We spend a lot of hours working though. That leads to easy or "natural" social contacts. Nowadays most of the gay people in my business are diving for cover, that is to say, most of the gay people who work in the branch of government that I do. That is to say, most of the gay people who work for the department of defense. And then there are the uniformed guys, several of whom I have dated. They either get transferred every couple of years or sent to Iraq or Afghanistan. It happens a lot. None of it makes for a relationship or finding a mate. If you are gay, that is. I expect to be alone as long as I keep working for the DoD. I guess it's time to get a new job and try to do it in a place where a well adjusted, good looking, well educated guy like me stands a chance of meeting someone. Of course the conservatives just wish we'd all die.

Jesus Mary and Joseph it's been a long time since I blogged! A LONG time. I have an excuse though. I've had a broken jaw, three surgeries and been sick. Really sick. Sick like "If this pain doesn't stop I'm going to shoot myself."

"What?" you might ask yourself "Caused such a thing?"

"Bashing?" No, well... sort of.

But factually, I have to answer: "Dentist"

More like the BUTCHER OF MALAGA PROVINCE but indeed, dentist. It all started with a broken tooth and ended with a ruined jaw. I'm better now though. The bashing bit of it took place a few years ago. It involved a baseball bat, a red headed homophobe and my face and resulted in a lot of blood, broken stuff and a pretty long hospital stay. Funny how things go sometimes.

But in America we're all about diversity now. Live and let live. No, wait... that was then, this is Bush. Glad I live in Europe. They don't hate homos nearly so much here.

The thing that sucks more than not blogging about being sick is not seeing any of my friends. It's been damned lonely.

I finally had dinner with Mick and Sinead the other night. It was nice. We ate over at Marcus' place. Marcus is as lucious as ever. He needs to ditch Doris and run to me. I swear. He kissed me on the lips yesterday so there might be more to Marcus than meets the eye. Doris notwithstanding.

Flannery and Scott have plans. Before they execute them, I'd like to get Flannery to make me a sweater. That girl can KNIT. And FAST. She's a force in all ways and (like Brad) has the metabolism of a hummingbird.

Luke has a twin in our current class. I almost fell down when I saw him. They could be twins. It's amazing. I wish Luke were here so we could stand them side by side. They are the same build, same features, everything.

If Luke were here, I'd get him and his non twin twin and take the both of them down to Bernard's one on each arm and tell Bernard we're doing a threesome. I think he'd fall down and have a screaming fit right there. Or scratch the twins' eyes out. Or both.

Brad's legs hurt and they don't hurt from him holding them up in the air. I swear that boy's a NUN. He needs to get out of the nunnery and back in circulation. I think he's been home crocheting.

Everyone is reading Harry Potter. Me too. I can't put it down. I know it's a kid's book but Jesus.

Earth Mother and the Absent Minded Professor went to Amsterdam. My GOD. They came back in clouds of joy if you catch my drift. They are STILL buzzed. NOTHING phases them. If I had gone to Amsterdam with them they'd have probably found me tied up in some harness being held captive by some leather queen. Or they'd have gone home without me because in their mighty clouds of joy they would have forgotten that I exist. That is the more likely story. Earth Mother looked like she had a birds nest in her hair yesterday. I love those people.

I finally went to my favorite (hunky) barber in Munich the other day (Bernard would have a FIT but he's too damned expensive). My handsome Turk told me that he hadn't seen me for too long and kissed me on the mouth. I'm getting a lot of mouth kisses lately but none of them are leading anywhere. I expect that if I went to Bernard I could get more than a kiss but at this point it's wild speculation. Bernard looks like Jude Law (which isn't all bad) but when he talks one has the impression that three red purses just fell out of his mouth. He's not as bad as Brad though.

Sassy sent me a test to take on the internet and I came out a big old buddhist. A big gay buddhist. That's me. Internet tests are silly and fun. One time I took one and came out a labrador retriever. I guess that makes me a big gay buddhist labrador retriever. Jesus. No wonder I can't get a date.