I know you hate it when I call you Michael...but you love it too. When I met you 8 years ago, there was a reason. I saw you walk in that day to the bar and I knew your secret from the start, but I didn't tell anyone. I let girls fall in love with you but I knew who you were and I still loved you. I pulled you out of the closet and I am so glad you did come out. I spent so many nights working with you, laughing at the fat ass chick and prissy ass chicks that hated us, going to the "gay dance" because we lived in a town so small there was no such thing as gay bar. I remember you being there for me in all the times I needed a friend, even throughout my abusive relationship you would come over and light a cigarette and talk to me. When I moved to Minnesota with my kids, you supported me and told me if I ever needed anything to call you. And I did, I needed you. You came, you helped, and you loved my children also. We loved you back. Michael, I don't know what happened, or why, but you are gone now and I regret losing touch with you. I don't know why I bought the newspaper yesterday because I never do, but I just did. and there you were, where I never thought I would see you. I never got to say that I love you for being who you were in this world. and I will never let life go by anymore without telling my friends that I love them.
I don't even know where I can see you, or why there are no services... so I am posting this on the internet and hope you have a hell of a connection up there.
I will never forget you, my boy.
PS-Remember the time we stayed up drinking Killians and wrapping presents...and I fell off the couch and you said my kids woke up and thought Santa landed? LOL.