I married my husband. COVID-19 modified every thing.


I met Ruben in 2012 in a yoga class on Larchmont Boulevard for individuals with HIV. I’d greet him, “¡Hola! ¿Cómo estás?” He was Mexican. I all the time spoke first as a result of he couldn’t see. He had grow to be blind years earlier than. His buddy David often drove him to class. Then I didn’t see Ruben anymore. David had died throughout surgical procedure. One other classmate requested if I might convey Ruben to yoga.

Seeing him twice weekly for sophistication meant that as we drove collectively, and as I assisted him on the road along with his cane, I grew to really feel protecting and loving towards him. We began an affair. Once I first entered his West Hollywood condominium, I used to be astounded by the quantity and high quality of the art work, largely ceramic masks, that he had produced in his Braille Institute programs. I curated his one-man exhibition on the Staff Circle on South Robertson Boulevard, the place he earned sufficient to buy an iPhone. He additionally exhibited prints from his Braille courses and a few work from earlier than he went blind.

Ruben had been within the U.S. since about 1989 however remained undocumented. Solely a lot later did I study that Ruben was an assumed title. He was legally Juan José. He all the time simply failed to fulfill the amnesty pointers, and though we consulted legal professionals about his immigration standing, they might provide little hope.

We by no means lived collectively. At most, Ruben would stick with me one or two nights per week at my home in Palms. We have been someplace in between mates with advantages and dedicated lovers. Neither of us ever thought-about marriage.

Ruben lived with a former boyfriend. After the Trump election, the plan was made for Ruben to “self-deport” earlier than moving into any hassle with the federal government. On Thanksgiving 2017, they packed a automobile and drove to El Paso, Texas. “To like that effectively which thou should depart ere lengthy,” says the Bard.

Relations from Zacatecas picked Ruben up, by no means having anticipated to see him in Mexico once more. He began residing along with his brother in a home that they had co-inherited from their father in the course of an extended staircase avenue with about 50 irregular steps every manner. Ruben’s mobility was severely compromised.

Ruben and I spoke by cellphone every day, and our relationship deepened. I figured I’d go to him in Mexico at any time when I might, and we’d take pleasure in no matter time we might spend collectively.

My first journey to Zacatecas was in late 2018, after he’d been there a yr. After two weeks, I might see how impoverished his life had grow to be as a blind man with HIV, bereft of his mates, in addition to of his inventive, his sight-impaired and his homosexual communities. His household welcomed him again however had little clue how you can assist him achieve the independence he so cherished. They overprotected him, and he turned increasingly a tolerated appendage to a big prolonged clan with out his wide-ranging cultural pursuits. Nobody had ever proven him, for instance, how you can negotiate the stairway from his residence in order that he might descend on his personal and hail a taxi. That was one factor I did with him on that journey.

To my shock, earlier than I returned residence, Ruben requested me to marry him. I all the time felt proud of him and I cherished him, however I wanted to mull it over for a couple of weeks. In my 70s, I acknowledged that I wished him with me to develop outdated collectively, and marriage would give us the standing to enchantment for his return. Solely I might try this. I employed an immigration lawyer to information us over the hurdles.

And so it was that we have been the primary homosexual couple to marry underneath the brand new coverage in Zacatecas on Might 23, 2019. We employed a 14-piece mariachi band — extra individuals than attended the marriage! My two sisters, my brother and his spouse got here to Zacatecas for 4 days of trip and a marriage. I used to be 74, Ruben was 66. It was really the happiest day of my life. I visited him once more earlier than the top of the yr, and we celebrated my seventy fifth birthday collectively.

Then got here COVID-19, and I used to be unable to return till the summer time of 2021, a yr and a half later. Within the meantime, regardless of his warning, he caught the virus in early 2021, and it was a extreme case. His sister, a doctor, took glorious care of him in her residence, and he pulled by way of. Once I noticed him over the summer time, he appeared again to regular, although there have been indicators I ought to have picked up that he had misplaced a few of his outdated psychological acuity.

I’d by no means visited Oaxaca earlier than, so we booked a five-day journey there, which stays amongst my most treasured recollections. Once we first entered our resort room, I oriented him to its structure — our mattress, the opposite mattress we might unfold our garments on, the armoire, the toilet entrance two steps from the foot of the mattress. Surprisingly, sooner or later, he stood on the door and couldn’t discover his manner into the room — the mind fog I didn’t acknowledge. It will be the final time I noticed him, although we nonetheless spoke by cellphone every day. He had insisted I take an erotic masks of his again residence, clearly — presciently — wanting it out of Mexico.

In November, his household got here to the rescue once more. Now Ruben had pneumonia, and as soon as extra his sister took cost. We spoke Nov. 8, and he sounded terrible. I cried that Monday night time. On Tuesday, I advised him I’d cried, however he sounded higher and stated I used to be being overly dramatic. His sister referred to as me at 12:30 p.m. on Wednesday to say Juan José — Ruben — had closed his eyes for a nap, and died. His lungs had been too badly scarred by COVID to withstand this new assault.

Married for the primary time at 74, widowed at 76.

The creator is cultural editor for peoplesworld.org, a biographer and a translator. He might be discovered on Fb at fb.com/eric.a.gordon.585.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the seek for romantic love in all its superb expressions within the L.A. space, and we need to hear your true story. We pay $300 for a broadcast essay. E mail LAAffairs@latimes.com. You’ll find submission pointers right here. You’ll find previous columns right here.