The homophobia that I experienced while in seminary led to my decision to make Biblical studies a priority in my life. I was unable to reconcile the God that I believed in with the kind of approach that I’d experienced from the students, so I decided to turn to the Bible and attempt to have a clear understanding of the theology contained therein; to hear things from the proverbial horse’s mouth. I joined a Catholic institution (about a year after I had left seminary) where their curriculum predominantly consisted of Biblical studies. Bobby was one of my classmates and we eventually became friends.
[FONT="]I had to include my credentials at the time of my application to the institution, so the rector and his team were aware of my time as a seminarian. The course started off with a week’s orientation program. The vice rector took me aside on my first day and made me that Bobby's father had passed away a couple of days prior to the beginning of the semester and with this information came the request that I attempt to offer him support and keep an eye out for him.
I reached out to Bobby a day after my chat with the vice rector. At that point in my life and after my experience with Leon, it took a lot for me to open up to him. Bobby eventually started to warm up to me and we soon became friends; much as I was afraid of what was taking place.
Bobby shared about how close he was to his father, the things that they'd do together and how he blamed himself for his father's death; his father had just recovered from a heart attack and Bobby took care of him while his mother was at work. He ran to the store to buy some groceries and when he returned, his father had suffered another heart attack and had passed away. Bobby was in a lot of pain, understandably so...and his pain made him very angry. It led to him getting into to a lot of fights with other students which meant that everyone started to steer clear of him. I could relate with it because I could identify that it mirrored how I had conducted myself in.
We became very good friend friends, but I was unable to open up to him to the extent that I had with Leon...but we were very close nonetheless and I allowed him to see me for me. Things reached a place where I was invited to spend the weekend with him and his mother; he was an only child. His mother was a lovely person and we got along very well; you could say that we had become friends in our own way. I was initially concerned about how this stood to affect Bobby, but he was pleased to see the two of us getting along so well. He had the build and approach that made him come across to be a force to be reckoned with, but once one came to know him, one became aware of his very soft heart. I'd tease him by calling him a gentle giant. However, he was also very spoilt by his parents, most especially by his father.
[/FONT] [FONT="]My weekend stay with him and his mom always led to a time of feeling rather uncomfortable because they made it a habit of getting into huge fights. His being spoilt and his pain led to him overlooking the fact that she was hurting deeply too; she'd lost her husband, after all. He was in the wrong most of the time. I initially kept those thoughts to myself; it wasn't my place to speak. Things reached a point where it felt as if the only reason for my being invited to spend the weekend with them, was because I became a buffer. When she wanted attention etc. he'd push me in her direction and in the instances of them having a fight, I'd have to contend with her complaints afterwards. I found myself being caught in the middle to some degree or another; I felt used and disrespected by him which came as no surprise because he was rather narcissistic...most especially since he was dealing with the pain of his loss. All in all, I couldn't ignore the fact that his mother was also hurting; that she was very good to him and that he was rather ungrateful and disrespectful towards her.
I don't think that you'll be surprised to hear that I tend to speak my mind LOL. And speak my mind, I did... Bobby was open to what I had to say and most of the time he'd take ownership for his actions. I respected him greatly for it. However, I eventually put my foot down and told him that my weekend visits had come to an end. He wasn't happy with my decision but he accepted it.
A couple of months passed by but the one thing that stood out to me was the fact that he should have started to heal and things should have improved...but they'd in actual fact become worse. I then started to identify that he was using the loss of his father as a scapegoat or means to gain enough sympathy for him to get what he wanted. I challenged him for having this kind of approach and it wasn't taken very well. We had a big fight and concluded that it would be best to end our friendship. By then I was rather fed up so I'd be lying if I said that I was disappointed. He came to me a couple of days later and apologised, I felt sorry for him and we sorted things out between us. However, our friendship never returned to the way that it was. I had learnt my lesson with Leon: I realised that when trying to help someone overcome some of their issues leads to fights, then things can become very destructive; that sometimes the best way to love someone, is to allow them to bump their heads and to then help them to pick up the pieces. I ended up backing off and letting things be, much as I could see that he was self destructing and it hurt me to bear witness to it.
There were times when things got way out of hand and required some form of intervention. I'd do my best to show him that he was destroying himself but it always led to a fight. Eventually, I decided to walk away. I was in therapy and had more than enough emotional baggage of my own to deal with; I had my own world that needed saving. I didn't see any point in wasting a lot of energy in trying to make him aware of what he was doing...but to no avail. Above all else, I was afraid of going down the same road as with Leon by bringing pain and destruction to yet another life, most especially one where the person was in the process of doing it for himself. With each passing day, I put one foot after another, and when I next realised it, we were worlds apart; we even stopped talking to each other.
The year came to an end. Bobby went to another part of the country for a couple of months. I soon found out that he'd gotten involved with a gang. About two weeks later, his mother phoned me to let me know that he'd been murdered. I was horrified...but above all else, I felt as if I'd failed him; that I was responsible for his death because if I hadn't given up on him, he may not have self destructed to the degree that he had.
I carried the guilt inside of myself for many years to come. I simply couldn't shake the feeling that I'd failed him. However, with time came the realisation that I couldn't hold myself responsible for the choices that he had made. I could have stood on my head and painted murals with my toes, but if he was unwilling to heed my calls for him to stop and identify that he was in the process of throwing himself under a train, then there was nothing that I could have done to stop it from taking place. He was a good person; he had a heart of gold.
His life and death has served as a constant reminder of how, much as we are good people, we are all capable of doing bad things; that running from the scary things in our lives bears the risk of bringing more pain and destruction to our lives, than if we are to stop and face things down.
I walked away from his funeral service feeling very confused and overwhelmed. I had no idea of how I was going to progress from there: I fought with someone to deal with his issues and pain to the point of destroying him, I challenged another but gave him the space to deal with things in his own way and he ended up losing his life. Both approaches has blown up in my face. I had absolutely no idea of how to move forward and relate with another man.
Bobby's passing left me feeling completely incompetent in relating with another guy and it filled me with a lot of fear. I subconsciously shut myself off and refused to become friends with another man. It’s only now that I fully realise that there were so many walls around me, and this along with my sense of inadequacy (when it came to relating with men) led to me withdrawing from men for almost a decade. It had taken place between the ages of 10-20 and history had repeated itself. From this point onwards up till my finding this site, making online friends and my eventual friendship that led to my realisation that I am bi, I only had women as friends.
[/FONT]
[FONT="]I had to include my credentials at the time of my application to the institution, so the rector and his team were aware of my time as a seminarian. The course started off with a week’s orientation program. The vice rector took me aside on my first day and made me that Bobby's father had passed away a couple of days prior to the beginning of the semester and with this information came the request that I attempt to offer him support and keep an eye out for him.
I reached out to Bobby a day after my chat with the vice rector. At that point in my life and after my experience with Leon, it took a lot for me to open up to him. Bobby eventually started to warm up to me and we soon became friends; much as I was afraid of what was taking place.
Bobby shared about how close he was to his father, the things that they'd do together and how he blamed himself for his father's death; his father had just recovered from a heart attack and Bobby took care of him while his mother was at work. He ran to the store to buy some groceries and when he returned, his father had suffered another heart attack and had passed away. Bobby was in a lot of pain, understandably so...and his pain made him very angry. It led to him getting into to a lot of fights with other students which meant that everyone started to steer clear of him. I could relate with it because I could identify that it mirrored how I had conducted myself in.
We became very good friend friends, but I was unable to open up to him to the extent that I had with Leon...but we were very close nonetheless and I allowed him to see me for me. Things reached a place where I was invited to spend the weekend with him and his mother; he was an only child. His mother was a lovely person and we got along very well; you could say that we had become friends in our own way. I was initially concerned about how this stood to affect Bobby, but he was pleased to see the two of us getting along so well. He had the build and approach that made him come across to be a force to be reckoned with, but once one came to know him, one became aware of his very soft heart. I'd tease him by calling him a gentle giant. However, he was also very spoilt by his parents, most especially by his father.
[/FONT] [FONT="]My weekend stay with him and his mom always led to a time of feeling rather uncomfortable because they made it a habit of getting into huge fights. His being spoilt and his pain led to him overlooking the fact that she was hurting deeply too; she'd lost her husband, after all. He was in the wrong most of the time. I initially kept those thoughts to myself; it wasn't my place to speak. Things reached a point where it felt as if the only reason for my being invited to spend the weekend with them, was because I became a buffer. When she wanted attention etc. he'd push me in her direction and in the instances of them having a fight, I'd have to contend with her complaints afterwards. I found myself being caught in the middle to some degree or another; I felt used and disrespected by him which came as no surprise because he was rather narcissistic...most especially since he was dealing with the pain of his loss. All in all, I couldn't ignore the fact that his mother was also hurting; that she was very good to him and that he was rather ungrateful and disrespectful towards her.
I don't think that you'll be surprised to hear that I tend to speak my mind LOL. And speak my mind, I did... Bobby was open to what I had to say and most of the time he'd take ownership for his actions. I respected him greatly for it. However, I eventually put my foot down and told him that my weekend visits had come to an end. He wasn't happy with my decision but he accepted it.
A couple of months passed by but the one thing that stood out to me was the fact that he should have started to heal and things should have improved...but they'd in actual fact become worse. I then started to identify that he was using the loss of his father as a scapegoat or means to gain enough sympathy for him to get what he wanted. I challenged him for having this kind of approach and it wasn't taken very well. We had a big fight and concluded that it would be best to end our friendship. By then I was rather fed up so I'd be lying if I said that I was disappointed. He came to me a couple of days later and apologised, I felt sorry for him and we sorted things out between us. However, our friendship never returned to the way that it was. I had learnt my lesson with Leon: I realised that when trying to help someone overcome some of their issues leads to fights, then things can become very destructive; that sometimes the best way to love someone, is to allow them to bump their heads and to then help them to pick up the pieces. I ended up backing off and letting things be, much as I could see that he was self destructing and it hurt me to bear witness to it.
There were times when things got way out of hand and required some form of intervention. I'd do my best to show him that he was destroying himself but it always led to a fight. Eventually, I decided to walk away. I was in therapy and had more than enough emotional baggage of my own to deal with; I had my own world that needed saving. I didn't see any point in wasting a lot of energy in trying to make him aware of what he was doing...but to no avail. Above all else, I was afraid of going down the same road as with Leon by bringing pain and destruction to yet another life, most especially one where the person was in the process of doing it for himself. With each passing day, I put one foot after another, and when I next realised it, we were worlds apart; we even stopped talking to each other.
The year came to an end. Bobby went to another part of the country for a couple of months. I soon found out that he'd gotten involved with a gang. About two weeks later, his mother phoned me to let me know that he'd been murdered. I was horrified...but above all else, I felt as if I'd failed him; that I was responsible for his death because if I hadn't given up on him, he may not have self destructed to the degree that he had.
I carried the guilt inside of myself for many years to come. I simply couldn't shake the feeling that I'd failed him. However, with time came the realisation that I couldn't hold myself responsible for the choices that he had made. I could have stood on my head and painted murals with my toes, but if he was unwilling to heed my calls for him to stop and identify that he was in the process of throwing himself under a train, then there was nothing that I could have done to stop it from taking place. He was a good person; he had a heart of gold.
His life and death has served as a constant reminder of how, much as we are good people, we are all capable of doing bad things; that running from the scary things in our lives bears the risk of bringing more pain and destruction to our lives, than if we are to stop and face things down.
I walked away from his funeral service feeling very confused and overwhelmed. I had no idea of how I was going to progress from there: I fought with someone to deal with his issues and pain to the point of destroying him, I challenged another but gave him the space to deal with things in his own way and he ended up losing his life. Both approaches has blown up in my face. I had absolutely no idea of how to move forward and relate with another man.
Bobby's passing left me feeling completely incompetent in relating with another guy and it filled me with a lot of fear. I subconsciously shut myself off and refused to become friends with another man. It’s only now that I fully realise that there were so many walls around me, and this along with my sense of inadequacy (when it came to relating with men) led to me withdrawing from men for almost a decade. It had taken place between the ages of 10-20 and history had repeated itself. From this point onwards up till my finding this site, making online friends and my eventual friendship that led to my realisation that I am bi, I only had women as friends.
[/FONT]