My coming out.

There's a joke I've been telling lately that seems to resonate. I tell people I have now, reluctantly, become my own social activities director. It is not a role that comes naturally to me.

In the Before Times, my happier life, I would come home from work on a Friday and Deb would tell me what the plans were for the weekend. This would annoy her to no end since she'd already laid out the plans to me earlier in the week. But she'd make the mistake of telling me during Jeopardy, or the Rachel Maddow Show or even during RuPaul's Drag Racing show, which would always catch me off guard.

"No way that's a man."

The point is, when it came to seeing friends or family, I never did any of the legwork. Even to make plans with my guy friends. That part always gets a lot of nodding responses from the husbands in the crowd. We're just not good at making or following through with plans to socialize.

How bad?

Several years ago I was going through a "grey period". My girls were getting ready to head off to college. I was dreading the thought of moving onto this new and daunting stage of family life. And just generally feeling depressed.

Without my knowledge, my wife took it upon herself to call my friend and ex Chiat/Day partner, John Shirley, to take me out to lunch and see if he could spot what was wrong and maybe just cheer me up. I was at a point in my life, not as crushing as this one, when I had "lost my smile", to quote a Billy Crystal movie.

I'm still moved to tears by her surreptitious demonstration of care and love. 

But, now I am on my own. And per the advice of my therapist, I am leaving my previous anti-social butterfly cocoon in order to grow into a new me.

It is not a role that comes easy to me. 

I've been on zoom calls, entertained neighbors and friends by Deb's backyard fire pit, even visited a local watering hole with a friend I haven't seen in years. He bought me dinner at the bar and we knocked back a few drinks and had a few raucous laughs.

And, as I might have mentioned before, I have the generous support of three high school classmates who are also in The Club Nobody Wants to Be In. Each has been helpful in their own individual way, because as you will learn, or already know, each person's grief is like a snowflake, no two are alike.

Has the transition been difficult? Surprisingly not. 

But it's not without its peculiarities. Namely, I don't want to wear out my welcome mat. 

And now I've had to get myself a desk calendar to keep all the social activity, lawyer activity, doctor activity and therapy activity straight and in order. 

This, I'm told, is progress.