I made my first trip to Duke Hospital since Joe's death today. First let me just report that I did go by and see Brian, Kaitlin, and Paxton Phelps. Paxton is doing well although having a little pain from the procedures from yesterday. He seems to have tolerated his first chemo treatment quite well. He was active playing the Wii and having a reasonably good day. The pain was stemming from his hip where they had done the procedure on Friday. They have given him Zofran to combat the nausea before and after his treatment. He will be at Duke at least until Friday and then after coming home will continue his treatments on a weekly basis. Kids are so resilient that if it wasn't for the fact that he was in a hospital bed you wouldn't know that he was sick. Kaitlin and Brian are handling it as well as can be expected. Of course it is difficult on them. They seem very happy with their oncology team and the care that Paxton is getting at Duke. I even got to visit with my good friend Courtney (Their sister in law and Paxton's aunt) who was also up there with him. Everyone is extremely optimistic but they still need your prayers and support.
Before I visited Paxton on the fifth floor I made my first visit since Joe's death up to the 9300 unit. As I walked down the hall I wasn't sure whether I wanted there to be any nurses there that I knew or whether I wanted there to be no one that i knew. The first person that I saw as I rounded the corner was Kim the dietitian who had taken such good care of Joe and always make sure he had tea for breakfast since he doesn't drink coffee. She gave me a big hug, expressed her sympathy and I cried. Next up was Grace, one of the nurses that had taken such good care of Joe. She is also the nurse that always gave us extra blue socks. The first words out of her mouth were "are you up here for socks?" She had a big smile on her face and it made me smile. We talked for a while, I cried, she expressed her sympathy and inquired as to what my support system was. I then moved on down the hall and saw yet another nurse that had taken such good care of Joe and we talked for a while too. She told me that they had the picture of Joe from the card I had sent to the floor posted on the wall around the corner. As I left from her I went down that hall and sure enough there was the card with Joe smiling that wonderful smile of his. I had a really good cry then and then left the floor. However before getting on the elevators I took a moment to get a purple pancreatic Cancer ribbon, write " rest in peace my love, Joe Lupton" and tied it on the frame that they have outside the elevators of the multicolored ribbons for different cancers. I then got one of the orange ones for leukemia and wrote Paxton's name on it too. If anyone is ever up at Duke, please go up to the ninth floor just outside the elevator and see the ribbons where you can write names of your loved ones who are dealing with or have dealt with cancer. After you write their name, tie it to the frame. Over time the ribbons cascade to the floor. In January the length of the ribbons was about 12 feet. They must have recently removed those and started anew as the frame is just starting to be covered. All of the colors are quite beautiful and quite sad at the same time as it represents so many people who have dealt with or are dealing with this dreaded disease. Joe, your name is there again as I lift prayers for you and for me. Paxton your name is there now as I lift a prayer for you.
Going to the 9300 unit was a big step for me and the last hurdle of going back to Duke and the place where I have so many memories.
Thank you to everyone for your continued prayers and support and thank you for remembering Paxton. God bless you all.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Beware of Stomach Viruses
What more is there to say on the subject? Beware. Wash your hands constantly. Be ever vigilant or you will end up like me the last few days. However, believe me I am a hand washer and I use hand sanitizer all day long at work but after this bout of stomach issues I think I will have to cross over to the land of the germaphobes. Think back to the worst hangover you have ever had. Add to that flu symptoms and diarrhea. Then my friends you will know what I have felt like since Monday. It began as just a "not quite normal" feeling and then progressed to what I thought was indigestion or heart burn. However, the Tums didn't help and about 45 minutes later the first of what would be an unimaginable number of frequent (i.e. about every 5-10 minutes) trips to the bathroom to throw up. Other things occurred but let's just say in order for there not to have been any clean up issues, I would have had to have two toilets right next to each other. I hope you have the picture and I won't elaborate any further. Of course after a while there just isn't anything to come up but yet the body still makes you want to. I now know I have abdominal muscles underneath my flabby belly as it hurts to cough or sneeze at this point from the cramping and spasms of Monday and Tuesday. I also had fever and chills. My feet have never felt so cold even though I had on two pair of socks, was under a flannel sheet, thick comforter and a quilt folded over twice over the lower half of my body. This also meant I couldn't sleep. After 8 hours of tossing around in the bed on Monday evening and night (when I wasn't in the bathroom) I came downstairs to the family room and layed on the couch (when I wasn't in the bathroom). The couch was home from 2am until 7:30pm on Tuesday. First on one end and then the other. Laying down, sitting up, half sitting up. Any and all positions. Jill came over in the afternoon and brought me some fruit punch Gatorade and some mini saltine crackers. That was my in-take for Tuesday. One 12 oz bottle of Gatorade and 7 mini saltines. But at least it stayed down last night. By 8 pm I was back up in bed after taking two sleeping pills and my sinus medication. But I slept. I didn't regain consciousness until just before 6am this morning. When I woke up, I felt good. As the day wore on I slowly began to wear down but I did drink two more 12 oz bottles of Gatorade, ate at least 20 mini saltines and had chicken soup for lunch. Dinner was soup again, more saltines but this time with a little peanut butter on them. The best part, it has all stayed with me and tonight, although tired, I feel almost, well maybe that's pushing it, maybe partly semi normal. I think sleep tonight and then REAL FOOD tomorrow will put me fully in recovered mode.
I had a wonderful Easter weekend though. After the services on Sunday (which by the way I'm convinced is where I got the bug via the offering plate since I was ushering) I went over to the Sullivan's for lunch and then to the Minnick's for dinner. I had a great time with both families and am most grateful to them for including me in their Easter festivities.
Thank you to every one who continues to remember me in their thoughts and prayers. I am a very blessed person to have so many people who care about me.
I had a wonderful Easter weekend though. After the services on Sunday (which by the way I'm convinced is where I got the bug via the offering plate since I was ushering) I went over to the Sullivan's for lunch and then to the Minnick's for dinner. I had a great time with both families and am most grateful to them for including me in their Easter festivities.
Thank you to every one who continues to remember me in their thoughts and prayers. I am a very blessed person to have so many people who care about me.
Early Lives
In some ways, the early lives of me and Joe were similar, but in most ways very different. We both grew up in North Carolina and were raised Southern Baptist. Mind you, the Southern Baptist of the 50’s, 60’s and early 70’s were not the same as the Southern Baptist of today. While yes, we were taught the word of Christ and had a very strict “code of conduct” at the time we were being broughtup in the church, the more conservative fringe had not taken over. There was still a sense of progressive thinking on many topics and theologically speaking, more in line with the other mainline Protestant faiths. That changed in the mid 70’s as both of us were nearing high school graduation and then on to college. The early Baptist upbringing did however instill a good basic knowledge of the tenants of the faith that we each developed throughout our lives. But this is where our paths started to differ with regard to faith.
Since Joe was a church musician since his junior high school days, he continued with a church job through high school, college and throughout the rest of his life. His faith developed and continued to evolve. Church on Sunday was a mainstay in his life as he accompanied and directed choirs his entire life. His faith grew stronger and he never wavered in his faith. I however took a different path. The church I grew up in had major troubles during my late high school years. I witnessed less than Christ like behavior from the adults and lay leaders of our church and it pushed me away. I sought out other faiths, even going so far as to convert to Judaism. This was not without its own issues as I did it for all the wrong reasons. Not out of true belief, since I continued to believe in Jesus Christ, but out ofrebellion against what I saw as a hypocritical church: The Southern Baptist church I grew up in. Once off to college I left the Judaism behind and became a lapsed everything, not attending church or temple. Since my high school graduation, I have been in the church I was raised in 2 times. Once in 1997 for my mother’s funeral and then again in 2011 for the funeral of the mother of my best friends growing up. From the time we met, Joe tried and tried toget me to attend PGUMC with him. I fought it tooth and nail, only giving in for his special music occasions. Most notably Easter and Christmas. I guess I became a “Christer”, those people that only attend on those days. From time to time I would go when his nagging became too much. I always enjoyed myself when there and everyone was always extremely welcoming. But my bad experience growing up, kept me from going regularly. When Joe was diagnosed, I started attending more regularly, and eventually every week. In the summer of 2011, I joined the church.
Besides the difference in our faith routes, there were of course other things that created a difference in how we looked at life. Joe grew up in a very close knit family comprised of his father, mother, brother and sister. His family was in frequent contact with his parent’s siblings as well as their parents. He had wonderful memories of visits with both sets of grandparents and his uncles, aunts and cousins. Joe was the oldest child in his family and the oldest of his cousins. I grew up in a family comprised of my mother, sister and brother. My father died in a traffic accident when I was four years old. I have very limited memories of him and quite honestly can’t tell if my memories are real or are just stories told to me when I was young that I just assume are memories. Both sets of grandparents were deceased before I was born and since my father died when I was so young, we really didn’t have a lot of contact with my father’s side of the family after his death. My mother was the only girl in a family of 5. Her four brothers were older and she was the youngest. We grew up visiting her brothers family in Wilmington on a regular basis, and occasionally saw 2 of her other brothers and their families. By the time I was elementary age, two of her brothers had died and so our contact with her family became limited to just her brother and family in Wilmington. I was the youngest child in my family and the youngest of all the cousins.
Joe used to tell me stories of his school days and they were always happy ones. He grew up in Roanoke Rapids and attended school there much his life. Everyone knew everyone and from his stories, he enjoyed the fact that his class was smaller in size and with his incredible memory for details, which he inherited from his mother, could tell stories and names of kids he went to school with from grades 1-12. If he ever had any issues with the other kids in school, he never told me about it. Joe however was not one to dwell on negative experiences, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there were issues, he just never told me about them. Maybe it was his size, or the fact that everyone knew everyone, but from his stories, his school life in Roanoke Rapids was a solid, happy one.
The stories of my school life are quite different. Similarly to Joe, I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone. My early years in school were happy ones as well. The kids that I grew up with from elementary school for the most part remained my friends throughout my entire school experience and some of them are still my friends to this day. However, during my middle school years, some things started to change. First, instead of everyone attending Hope Mills School from grades 1-12, they began to build elementary schools and changed Hope Mills School to Hope Mills High School. With the building of elementary/middle schools that went from grades 1-8 meant that students that I didn’t grow up with from outlying areas that had previously attended other schools were redistricted to the schools I attended. When the new students arrived was when my school experience started to change. It was no secret to anyone that met me that I was different. In elementary school I had been called the occasional name, most often “sissy”. But being a child, I usually just let it go and went about my business. By the middle school years, the name calling became more aggressive and progressed to more lewd names such as “fag”, “faggot” or “queer”. Usually the taunts were from kids that I hadn’t grown up with, but also usually, there were kids with the taunters that had known me their entire lives. I can’t remember a single time when one of my friends ever stood up for me and said anything to the name callers. That hurt my feelings, but I coped. I understood peer pressure. I was under a lot of peer pressure, just a different kind. I just concentrated on my school work and basically stopped any type of after school activity where the environment might not be controlled as easily by an adult or teacher. By high school, Cumberland County had grown significantly and my sophomore year, 3 new high schools opened in one year. This meant a lot of redistricting. Mostly it meant an influx of large quantities of people that I didn’t know and didn’t know me. At the time, the school that I attended, South View Senior High was the largest in the county. Even with just 10th, 11thand 12th grades we numbered nearly 1500. To say I enjoyed high school would be acomplete lie. Yes there were parts that I have fond memories of, but those are mostly just due to close friends and a teacher or two. By the 10thgrade with all the new kids around, the taunting escalated. Today we would call it bullying or harassment. Back then I just called it misery. Even though I was significantly taller than most, I was also very thin. By 10thgrade I was my current 6’5”, but I also weighed around 150 lbs. I would regularly be shoved into lockers, called names in the hall, bumped into in the cafeteria when taking my tray to a table and other forms of intimidation. My only respite was in class. At least there, the teacher usually had some semblance of control. So I continued to study and get good grades. A basic high school nerd with a few “cool” friends from my childhood. My junior year was when it really got bad for me. One day during class change, as I was going down the stairs from the 2ndto the 1st floor, even though at that particular time the stairway was not crowded, just a few students, I felt a distinctive shove from behind. I never saw who did it. It didn’t seem like an accident, but it is possible that it was. Regardless, I went falling down 2 flights of stairs. Upon landing at the bottom I knew immediately there was a problem as my ankle was screaming in waves of pain. The other students just passed me by. It’s possible someone asked if I was ok, I don’t remember. I do know that no one offered to help. As the class bell rang, I still lay on thefloor. I repeatedly tried to stand but could not. I did manage to collect my books into a pile and I sat there. After a few minutes, a teacher did walk by and saw me. She helped me to the office where I called my mother to come get me and she took me to the doctor. It was only a bad sprain, but I was on crutches for a couple of weeks. After that and on through the next year, I was very wary of going down the stairs and always held onto the rail, even if it meant waiting until the stairwell was almost empty to go down it. The name calling continued, the shoving into lockers continued, the threats to be beaten up continued. Slowly, some of the people that I had known for years distanced themselves from me. That part hurt worse than the rest. Friends who just went away. But not everyone did mind you. I still had friends, but most of them were oblivious to what each day was like for me. I stopped socializing after school completely. I remained in a couple of clubs, but rarely took part in any activities, just went to meetings where the teacher/sponsor would be in attendance. I didn’t talk about it at home. I didn’t talk about it to anyone. The first time I ever talked about it was with Joe. Although bullying in schools is a topic that has generated a lot of press recently, it isn’t new. It is just worse for kids today as there are so many more avenues for the bullies to do their damage.
College was a wonderful time for Joe. I have heard stories and stories and stories. You know someone had a great college experience when they can remember the names of professors and fellow students 30+ years after graduation. Part of that is that yearly Joe would attend various music conferences and music educators’ conferences. At these occasions he would see people from his college days, both students and faculty. He absolutely loved his conferences. He always came back home in a wonderful mood, rejuvenated and filled with stories. He also kept in touch with his college roommates. Most notably, Rob Hugh. Rob was his roommate and his best friend. Along with Rob’s wife Lola, they kept in touch constantly by both phone and visits. Two better people don’t exist. Joe regaled me with stories of running the projector at the Baptist Student Union (you know he loved being in charge of movies) as well as class time and other social activities. Another item that he spoke of often was the various eating establishments in Greensboro and around the campus of UNCG. As you might have guessed, Joe loved food. But he loved UNCG. He was a devoted alumnus and I never heard him speak of a bad experience there. But again, even if there were some, knowing Joe, he would not have spoken of it.
My college days were also good ones, but not like Joe’s. I was more the “wild child” experiencing my first taste of freedom. While I made good friends there, I didn’t keep in touch for very long afterwards and I couldn’t tell you the name of a single professor if my life depended on it. I remember all my roommates and the fun we had. They were all good guys and unfortunately a couple of them met with very untimely deaths much too young. But my college days were good ones and I remember East Carolina University fondly.
After school our paths took different directions. Joe bowed to perceived pressure and married. The marriage was not a happy one and after 17 years ended in a very bitter, contentious divorce. Having come out in college, at least to friends, I went down the road of a single gay man. Dating, having short lived relationships and eventually a more meaningful one that lasted for 4 years. In 1998 Joe and I met. Joe swore that he remembered me from the days that I worked at Record Bar in Fayetteville and that I turned my nose up at him when he asked for help finding the latest Barbra Streisand album. I have no recollection of that, but it is entirely possible. I do however remember very vividly the day we met and every day after that. After a very brief, 2 months, breakup a couple of months after we started dating (I felt Joe was getting too serioustoo quickly) we resumed our relationship. In October 1999, I left my life in Fayetteville & Hope Mills and moved to Durham to be with him. We lived for 4 years in the townhome he had purchased in 1998 and then in 2003, built the home that I still live in. The home that Joe died peacefully in. Many, many wonderful memories fill the rooms of that home on Mallory Lane. So much so that it is currently a very difficult decision for me as to whether to keep the house or sell it. For one person, it is much too large. Joe and I had planned on selling the home this spring and looking for a one level townhome. Main reason, Joe was concerned he might become wheelchair bound or at the very least, unable to climb stairs. A part of me wants to go ahead and make the change and find a small one level townhome or condo. Something more appropriate for me by myself. Something that would put me in better shape financially. But then there is the emotional attachment to the home we built together. I have been told by friends, family and therapists, to not make any decisions for at least 6 months. Doing so before apparently results in regret in many people. So for now, I will take their advice. Each day I try to look forward and face the day with hope. My memories are precious as that is all I have right now. Although at many times they result in tears flowing, eventually the tears stop and I can smile. I look at Joe’s photos and I smile. I look at them and I cry. Both the tears and the smiles are born out of love for him and grief at his passing. However, I do know that I carry him with me every moment of everyday. Although there is a void inside of me there is also an equal amount of love for him inside of me. Someday, although the physical void will never be filled, hopefully the love will replace that space inside and the smiles will turn into grins and laughter. You see, I do have hope. One of the main reasons is my Pleasant Grove United Methodist Church family. Take a few minutes and listen to the podcast of the most recent "Ask Jay" episode (Jay Minnick is our minister for those that might not know).
ASK JAY
P.S. I had one of those "Joe is watching me" moments Yesterday. When I went to the Stations of the Cross at PGUMC yesterday afternoon, just as I opened the sanctuary door, his recording from his CD "A Time of Centering" of "In the Garden" began. When Joe was picking out songs for that CD he asked me what my favorite old hymn was. I told him "In the Garden" because my mom had told me it was my dad's favorite and I had grown up with the feeling that every time I heard it, I felt a little connection to my dad who died when I was four years old. So with that, he ordered a beautiful arrangement of the song and put it on the CD. How perfect that at the moment I opened the door his amazing recording of the song began to play. Yes I had plenty of tears and found it hard to read the prayers at each station but I made it. Afterward I sat in the sanctuary alone and listened to the rest of the CD. I could close my eyes and see my love sitting at the piano playing. What an amazing talent. I am so blessed to have been loved by such a man.
Since Joe was a church musician since his junior high school days, he continued with a church job through high school, college and throughout the rest of his life. His faith developed and continued to evolve. Church on Sunday was a mainstay in his life as he accompanied and directed choirs his entire life. His faith grew stronger and he never wavered in his faith. I however took a different path. The church I grew up in had major troubles during my late high school years. I witnessed less than Christ like behavior from the adults and lay leaders of our church and it pushed me away. I sought out other faiths, even going so far as to convert to Judaism. This was not without its own issues as I did it for all the wrong reasons. Not out of true belief, since I continued to believe in Jesus Christ, but out ofrebellion against what I saw as a hypocritical church: The Southern Baptist church I grew up in. Once off to college I left the Judaism behind and became a lapsed everything, not attending church or temple. Since my high school graduation, I have been in the church I was raised in 2 times. Once in 1997 for my mother’s funeral and then again in 2011 for the funeral of the mother of my best friends growing up. From the time we met, Joe tried and tried toget me to attend PGUMC with him. I fought it tooth and nail, only giving in for his special music occasions. Most notably Easter and Christmas. I guess I became a “Christer”, those people that only attend on those days. From time to time I would go when his nagging became too much. I always enjoyed myself when there and everyone was always extremely welcoming. But my bad experience growing up, kept me from going regularly. When Joe was diagnosed, I started attending more regularly, and eventually every week. In the summer of 2011, I joined the church.
Besides the difference in our faith routes, there were of course other things that created a difference in how we looked at life. Joe grew up in a very close knit family comprised of his father, mother, brother and sister. His family was in frequent contact with his parent’s siblings as well as their parents. He had wonderful memories of visits with both sets of grandparents and his uncles, aunts and cousins. Joe was the oldest child in his family and the oldest of his cousins. I grew up in a family comprised of my mother, sister and brother. My father died in a traffic accident when I was four years old. I have very limited memories of him and quite honestly can’t tell if my memories are real or are just stories told to me when I was young that I just assume are memories. Both sets of grandparents were deceased before I was born and since my father died when I was so young, we really didn’t have a lot of contact with my father’s side of the family after his death. My mother was the only girl in a family of 5. Her four brothers were older and she was the youngest. We grew up visiting her brothers family in Wilmington on a regular basis, and occasionally saw 2 of her other brothers and their families. By the time I was elementary age, two of her brothers had died and so our contact with her family became limited to just her brother and family in Wilmington. I was the youngest child in my family and the youngest of all the cousins.
Joe used to tell me stories of his school days and they were always happy ones. He grew up in Roanoke Rapids and attended school there much his life. Everyone knew everyone and from his stories, he enjoyed the fact that his class was smaller in size and with his incredible memory for details, which he inherited from his mother, could tell stories and names of kids he went to school with from grades 1-12. If he ever had any issues with the other kids in school, he never told me about it. Joe however was not one to dwell on negative experiences, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there were issues, he just never told me about them. Maybe it was his size, or the fact that everyone knew everyone, but from his stories, his school life in Roanoke Rapids was a solid, happy one.
The stories of my school life are quite different. Similarly to Joe, I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone. My early years in school were happy ones as well. The kids that I grew up with from elementary school for the most part remained my friends throughout my entire school experience and some of them are still my friends to this day. However, during my middle school years, some things started to change. First, instead of everyone attending Hope Mills School from grades 1-12, they began to build elementary schools and changed Hope Mills School to Hope Mills High School. With the building of elementary/middle schools that went from grades 1-8 meant that students that I didn’t grow up with from outlying areas that had previously attended other schools were redistricted to the schools I attended. When the new students arrived was when my school experience started to change. It was no secret to anyone that met me that I was different. In elementary school I had been called the occasional name, most often “sissy”. But being a child, I usually just let it go and went about my business. By the middle school years, the name calling became more aggressive and progressed to more lewd names such as “fag”, “faggot” or “queer”. Usually the taunts were from kids that I hadn’t grown up with, but also usually, there were kids with the taunters that had known me their entire lives. I can’t remember a single time when one of my friends ever stood up for me and said anything to the name callers. That hurt my feelings, but I coped. I understood peer pressure. I was under a lot of peer pressure, just a different kind. I just concentrated on my school work and basically stopped any type of after school activity where the environment might not be controlled as easily by an adult or teacher. By high school, Cumberland County had grown significantly and my sophomore year, 3 new high schools opened in one year. This meant a lot of redistricting. Mostly it meant an influx of large quantities of people that I didn’t know and didn’t know me. At the time, the school that I attended, South View Senior High was the largest in the county. Even with just 10th, 11thand 12th grades we numbered nearly 1500. To say I enjoyed high school would be acomplete lie. Yes there were parts that I have fond memories of, but those are mostly just due to close friends and a teacher or two. By the 10thgrade with all the new kids around, the taunting escalated. Today we would call it bullying or harassment. Back then I just called it misery. Even though I was significantly taller than most, I was also very thin. By 10thgrade I was my current 6’5”, but I also weighed around 150 lbs. I would regularly be shoved into lockers, called names in the hall, bumped into in the cafeteria when taking my tray to a table and other forms of intimidation. My only respite was in class. At least there, the teacher usually had some semblance of control. So I continued to study and get good grades. A basic high school nerd with a few “cool” friends from my childhood. My junior year was when it really got bad for me. One day during class change, as I was going down the stairs from the 2ndto the 1st floor, even though at that particular time the stairway was not crowded, just a few students, I felt a distinctive shove from behind. I never saw who did it. It didn’t seem like an accident, but it is possible that it was. Regardless, I went falling down 2 flights of stairs. Upon landing at the bottom I knew immediately there was a problem as my ankle was screaming in waves of pain. The other students just passed me by. It’s possible someone asked if I was ok, I don’t remember. I do know that no one offered to help. As the class bell rang, I still lay on thefloor. I repeatedly tried to stand but could not. I did manage to collect my books into a pile and I sat there. After a few minutes, a teacher did walk by and saw me. She helped me to the office where I called my mother to come get me and she took me to the doctor. It was only a bad sprain, but I was on crutches for a couple of weeks. After that and on through the next year, I was very wary of going down the stairs and always held onto the rail, even if it meant waiting until the stairwell was almost empty to go down it. The name calling continued, the shoving into lockers continued, the threats to be beaten up continued. Slowly, some of the people that I had known for years distanced themselves from me. That part hurt worse than the rest. Friends who just went away. But not everyone did mind you. I still had friends, but most of them were oblivious to what each day was like for me. I stopped socializing after school completely. I remained in a couple of clubs, but rarely took part in any activities, just went to meetings where the teacher/sponsor would be in attendance. I didn’t talk about it at home. I didn’t talk about it to anyone. The first time I ever talked about it was with Joe. Although bullying in schools is a topic that has generated a lot of press recently, it isn’t new. It is just worse for kids today as there are so many more avenues for the bullies to do their damage.
College was a wonderful time for Joe. I have heard stories and stories and stories. You know someone had a great college experience when they can remember the names of professors and fellow students 30+ years after graduation. Part of that is that yearly Joe would attend various music conferences and music educators’ conferences. At these occasions he would see people from his college days, both students and faculty. He absolutely loved his conferences. He always came back home in a wonderful mood, rejuvenated and filled with stories. He also kept in touch with his college roommates. Most notably, Rob Hugh. Rob was his roommate and his best friend. Along with Rob’s wife Lola, they kept in touch constantly by both phone and visits. Two better people don’t exist. Joe regaled me with stories of running the projector at the Baptist Student Union (you know he loved being in charge of movies) as well as class time and other social activities. Another item that he spoke of often was the various eating establishments in Greensboro and around the campus of UNCG. As you might have guessed, Joe loved food. But he loved UNCG. He was a devoted alumnus and I never heard him speak of a bad experience there. But again, even if there were some, knowing Joe, he would not have spoken of it.
My college days were also good ones, but not like Joe’s. I was more the “wild child” experiencing my first taste of freedom. While I made good friends there, I didn’t keep in touch for very long afterwards and I couldn’t tell you the name of a single professor if my life depended on it. I remember all my roommates and the fun we had. They were all good guys and unfortunately a couple of them met with very untimely deaths much too young. But my college days were good ones and I remember East Carolina University fondly.
After school our paths took different directions. Joe bowed to perceived pressure and married. The marriage was not a happy one and after 17 years ended in a very bitter, contentious divorce. Having come out in college, at least to friends, I went down the road of a single gay man. Dating, having short lived relationships and eventually a more meaningful one that lasted for 4 years. In 1998 Joe and I met. Joe swore that he remembered me from the days that I worked at Record Bar in Fayetteville and that I turned my nose up at him when he asked for help finding the latest Barbra Streisand album. I have no recollection of that, but it is entirely possible. I do however remember very vividly the day we met and every day after that. After a very brief, 2 months, breakup a couple of months after we started dating (I felt Joe was getting too serioustoo quickly) we resumed our relationship. In October 1999, I left my life in Fayetteville & Hope Mills and moved to Durham to be with him. We lived for 4 years in the townhome he had purchased in 1998 and then in 2003, built the home that I still live in. The home that Joe died peacefully in. Many, many wonderful memories fill the rooms of that home on Mallory Lane. So much so that it is currently a very difficult decision for me as to whether to keep the house or sell it. For one person, it is much too large. Joe and I had planned on selling the home this spring and looking for a one level townhome. Main reason, Joe was concerned he might become wheelchair bound or at the very least, unable to climb stairs. A part of me wants to go ahead and make the change and find a small one level townhome or condo. Something more appropriate for me by myself. Something that would put me in better shape financially. But then there is the emotional attachment to the home we built together. I have been told by friends, family and therapists, to not make any decisions for at least 6 months. Doing so before apparently results in regret in many people. So for now, I will take their advice. Each day I try to look forward and face the day with hope. My memories are precious as that is all I have right now. Although at many times they result in tears flowing, eventually the tears stop and I can smile. I look at Joe’s photos and I smile. I look at them and I cry. Both the tears and the smiles are born out of love for him and grief at his passing. However, I do know that I carry him with me every moment of everyday. Although there is a void inside of me there is also an equal amount of love for him inside of me. Someday, although the physical void will never be filled, hopefully the love will replace that space inside and the smiles will turn into grins and laughter. You see, I do have hope. One of the main reasons is my Pleasant Grove United Methodist Church family. Take a few minutes and listen to the podcast of the most recent "Ask Jay" episode (Jay Minnick is our minister for those that might not know).
ASK JAY
P.S. I had one of those "Joe is watching me" moments Yesterday. When I went to the Stations of the Cross at PGUMC yesterday afternoon, just as I opened the sanctuary door, his recording from his CD "A Time of Centering" of "In the Garden" began. When Joe was picking out songs for that CD he asked me what my favorite old hymn was. I told him "In the Garden" because my mom had told me it was my dad's favorite and I had grown up with the feeling that every time I heard it, I felt a little connection to my dad who died when I was four years old. So with that, he ordered a beautiful arrangement of the song and put it on the CD. How perfect that at the moment I opened the door his amazing recording of the song began to play. Yes I had plenty of tears and found it hard to read the prayers at each station but I made it. Afterward I sat in the sanctuary alone and listened to the rest of the CD. I could close my eyes and see my love sitting at the piano playing. What an amazing talent. I am so blessed to have been loved by such a man.
A Red Letter Day
Well actually, it was a Red Symbol day. Today the Supreme Court heard arguments about the repeal of Proposition 8. As the tide of public opinion changes in America (the latest national poll shows 53% of Americans now believe in marriage equality - the number was 40% in 2007), eventually DOMA will be struck down as unconstitutional and everyone, gay or straight, will be considered equal in the eyes of the law with regard to marriage. This equality was something that Joe felt very strongly about. One of the reasons, besides the fact that he loved me, that he wanted to get married in 2011 was because he hoped that someday DOMA would be officially ruled illegal and that I might be able to get his retirement benefits as well as Social Security. While that isn't exactly the most romantic of reasons to get married, it was a reason born out of love and concern for me. I'm not delusional enough to think that the hearing of today's case before the Supreme Court will have any immediate effect on my life, or possibly will ever effect me. However, it is a first step towards equality. That equality was something that Joe was extremely passionate about. He was uncompromising in that passion too. Early on in our relationship he was very upfront with anyone and everyone about us. Sometimes even to the point that it caused me concern. In the public school system teachers have to be careful about how they are viewed by students, parents, coworkers and administration. However, from the very beginning I was introduced to everyone as his partner. Meeting his principle in 1999 for the first time, that is how he introduced me. Subsequently, the two principles that followed were introduced to me the same way. Most every parent of a student that I met, knew me as Joe's partner, as did his students. I worried this would cause him problems at work. If it ever did, he never let on. He loved me and was very proud of our relationship and then our marriage. Joe was anxious for today to come. Were he still here, he would be scouring the Internet for news. Only time will tell, but regardless, we are one step closer as the nation is forced to confront their feelings and fears about marriage equality. Why some fear it?...I have no idea. I would venture a guess that there isn't a single married couple in the USA whose marriage was adversely affected by mine and Joe's marriage on August 19, 2011.
Facebook today has been a flutter with the red equality symbol as people show support for marriage equality. It has been beautiful to watch.
Since last weeks post not much has happened. My weekend was filled with laundry and basketball. This is the one time a year when Joe and I didn't do much together. Joe tolerated my Duke basketball obsession. He never complained and always let me watch games. He of course would be reading, on the computer or talking on the phone. Another way he showed me love: not complaining during tournament time. Besides an ongoing ordeal with Duke Energy, the last few days have been uneventful. But that is okay.
Thank you to everyone who continues to keep me in their thoughts and prayers. This week I have had the joy to reconnect with a wonderful friend who I haven't seen in a while. Thanks Rebecca for reaching out. I see a dinner in our near future when you are feeling better. As I said before, the red equality symbol has been everywhere today and it has made me smile. Some have been very inventive, but these are my two favorites. Can you guess which one Joe would like best? If you knew him, it would be easy. Much, much love and a heaping pile of gratitude!
Facebook today has been a flutter with the red equality symbol as people show support for marriage equality. It has been beautiful to watch.
Since last weeks post not much has happened. My weekend was filled with laundry and basketball. This is the one time a year when Joe and I didn't do much together. Joe tolerated my Duke basketball obsession. He never complained and always let me watch games. He of course would be reading, on the computer or talking on the phone. Another way he showed me love: not complaining during tournament time. Besides an ongoing ordeal with Duke Energy, the last few days have been uneventful. But that is okay.
Thank you to everyone who continues to keep me in their thoughts and prayers. This week I have had the joy to reconnect with a wonderful friend who I haven't seen in a while. Thanks Rebecca for reaching out. I see a dinner in our near future when you are feeling better. As I said before, the red equality symbol has been everywhere today and it has made me smile. Some have been very inventive, but these are my two favorites. Can you guess which one Joe would like best? If you knew him, it would be easy. Much, much love and a heaping pile of gratitude!
Just One of Those Days
Actually instead of a day, more like just the last 24 hours. It began last night after dinner when I had the bright idea of syncing my iPad with iTunes since I had not done so since late last year. So after opening iTunes on the laptop, I went into the settings on my iPad to do the wireless sync. Well for some reason the iPad wasn't recognizing that iTunes was open on the laptop and so the sync icon would not work. Therefore I said what the heck, I'll do it the old fashioned way and plug the iPad into the computer. I did, it recognized the iPad and the sync began. After going for about 20 minutes, all of a sudden the laptop shut down and started to reboot. Updates were installing....with no warning. Finally the laptop came back up and then I got the message on the iPad, " iTunes" and a symbol of a USB connection pointing at the word. Well of course I reopen iTunes and then get the message that " iPad in recovery mode. Press continue to reset iPad to the original factory settings." We'll I don't want to reset it to factory settings! I have photos, email, documents, practically every facet of my life for the last two years is on the thing. Then it really hit me.....all my candid photos of Joe for the past two years are there. Every doctors appointment, chemo infusion, trip, laying on the couch, sitting on the patio, hospital stay...EVERY PHOTO OF JOE IS ON THERE AND I HAVE NO WAY TO RETRIEVE THEM. To say I was stressed is putting it mildly. But I didn't get hysterical or anything. No "Holland fit" as Joe called it. I just sat here for 30 minutes looking at the message with tears running down my cheeks. What could I do? I had no choice but to press continue. Calm, sad resignation. So I did and I sat and watched as the software reset. It took about 15 minutes before a message came on the laptop screen asking me if I wanted to name this iPad or did I want to use the old name, "Jeff's iPad". I of course said use the old one. That was when the miracle began. Slowly it started adding everything that had been on the iPad, back onto it. After about an hour, the iPad came back to life, with everything on it...including my photos. Then I did cry.
Today when I got home there was a letter from a collection service wanting $164 for Duke Energy. But the collection was under Joe's name. So I called Duke Energy and lo and behold, the old account shows $164 due and the new account shows a $164 credit. Guess who credited the wrong account? So after dealing with that (talking to service providers on the phone is one of my least favorite things to do), I started heating up some barbecue for my dinner. The barbecue was frozen so I was having to break it up as it heated up. Being the non cook that I am, I managed to knock half of it out of the pan and onto the stove. Being the idiot that I am, I move the pan over to another burner, turn off the flame, then reach for the iron burner stand to get the barbecue out from under. With the burner only being off for approximately 20 seconds, the metal was quite warm. One might say hot. Burning hot. The fingers on my left hand are evidence. Large burning blisters on two fingers. It makes typing fun. :( But the barbecue was good!
Lets hope tomorrow is less eventful!
Today when I got home there was a letter from a collection service wanting $164 for Duke Energy. But the collection was under Joe's name. So I called Duke Energy and lo and behold, the old account shows $164 due and the new account shows a $164 credit. Guess who credited the wrong account? So after dealing with that (talking to service providers on the phone is one of my least favorite things to do), I started heating up some barbecue for my dinner. The barbecue was frozen so I was having to break it up as it heated up. Being the non cook that I am, I managed to knock half of it out of the pan and onto the stove. Being the idiot that I am, I move the pan over to another burner, turn off the flame, then reach for the iron burner stand to get the barbecue out from under. With the burner only being off for approximately 20 seconds, the metal was quite warm. One might say hot. Burning hot. The fingers on my left hand are evidence. Large burning blisters on two fingers. It makes typing fun. :( But the barbecue was good!
Lets hope tomorrow is less eventful!
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Joe Lupton Memorial Service 1/19/2013
On January 13, 2013, Heaven received an incredible person and musician. This keyboard stairway to Heaven seemed very appropriate.
At the reception there were two walls of photos of Joe over the years. Here is just one of the walls.
The family took time at the end of the recption to gather for a group photo.
Left to right: Kim, Jeff (me), Tommy, Mary Kay, Bettie, Joshua, Willie, Bill, Robert, Renee, Ted, Ellyn, Brittany, Mark.
Our "group" also had our photo taken.
Left to right: Lara, Ken, Joe, Mike, Artie, Ethan, Scott, Jeff, Jeff (me), Jill, Mark
Our friend and Minister, Jay Minnick and me as the reception drew to a close.
This is how most people will always remember my Joe. At the piano, organ or leading a choir. An incredible musician but an even more wonderful person. Joe, you were and still are the love of my life. Nothing about me will ever be the same without you. I love you.
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