April 4 marked the first anniversary of the death of the person who was my very first serious relationship. This is a bit of rambling about him.
I first met Sean at a bar in Nashville. I was there with colleagues and he was sitting near the pool table. As my colleagues and I began to play pool, I lit a cigarette. Sean lit one as well, and stole my ashtray. When accused him of theft, he quickly returned the ashtray and made an apology. I put him at ease by letting him know that I was just kidding. We could share. As we talked, we learned that we were both in the same business. As I gave him my number, I told him not to think I was hitting on him—because I was not looking for a relationship. But he was new in town, and our paths were bound to cross again, and I offered my hand of friendship. Somehow, though, I wound up spending the next 5 years with Sean. Through the good, the bad, and the in-between.
Sean was adopted from Brazil at the age of about 3 weeks. His adoptive parents lived in Colorado for his early years and then moved to LA. It was in LA that he started modeling as a toddler and that evolved into acting. You might have seen him on some #1 sitcoms from around 1990 or even a movie or two.
One of the greatest strengths that Sean brought wherever he went was passion. Passion for everything he pursued. Another strength is resilience. He survived abandonment, abuse, previous suicide attempts, being institutionalized to “fix” his sexuality, the lack of a real father, a difficult relationship with his mother, falling off mountains and a terrible car accident. He survived being alone many times and survived heartache and loss. But this time, he was not able to survive.
I have heard many comments from Sean’s friends and from past co-workers. The theme is common. Why didn’t he call me? Why didn’t I call him? These same people say that he had sounded in such good spirits lately. I last spoke with Sean just over a week prior to this tragedy. He was on his way to Memphis for work, and he sounded so happy. I had left him a message on Wednesday night. He never got to return the call. It seemed like things were on a positive track for him. His job was going great. He was so happy with his partner, and he was doing all of the right things that lead to a happy life. We will likely not understand just which demons finally caught up with him, but we know that now he is free of those demons.
On Thursday, April 6, a couple of days after we learned of his death, I heard at least 3 people say that they felt a peacefulness, for lack of a better word. Tuesday was a horrible day for us all. Wednesday was not much better, as friends talked with each other and shared stories and pictures. But on Thursday, so many of us awoke with a different feeling. To me, it felt as though Sean’s spirit had come into our hearts to let us know that all of his pains were gone and that he will never hurt again. And while some of us felt that peacefulness, we will continue to hurt and we will continue to miss Sean. Most everyone who became close to Sean grew to be thankful for him, even when we became frustrated with him from time to time.
Sean never pulled punches. He said what he meant, and then sometimes a little more. He was a character in so many ways. While living in Kentucky and Tennessee, he picked up some expressions that he took with him as he moved up and away in his career. I don’t know if any of you have heard it, but he loved to say that he was full of “piss and vinegar.” That’s a southern expression for being full of energy and ready to tackle whatever lay ahead.
Sean set high standards for himself. He once received an employee review at a company where he worked in Nashville. This particular company had a policy that reviewed people on the curve. At his one year review, he did not receive top scores in all categories. He refused to accept that people who had been there several years had taken the top spots and he had gotten a wonderful and amazing review for someone who had only one year of service. He received the maximum possible pay raise. Not good enough. He knew that he had done a fantastic job and that he deserved top scores. As his supervisor explained the curve process, he dismissed it and marched straight to HR to file his complaint.
Sean had a long memory—sometimes in a good way, and sometimes not so good. If he felt like someone had hurt his feelings or neglected him, he would build up the walls that so many of us know so well. But so many times, the heart in him that we came to love and appreciate would eventually sneak over those walls and reach out with either an apology or forgiveness. Nicole, his best friend for the past decade or so, would probably understand that better than anyone.
Sean had a love for animals that got us into trouble more than a couple of times while we were together. In Nashville, we lived in an apartment complex that discouraged pets by charging huge deposits and increasing rent for having a pet. Living right outside our door, however, in a drainage ditch, was a family of kittens. Sean began to leave food for them. The apartment manager noticed and sent notes to everyone in our building warning us not to feed the animals. Sean read it and threw it away, and kept on feeding the kittens. He also kept trying to pet them, but they remained just out of his reach. One night, after dinner out, we had come home and one kitten in particular didn’t escape Sean’s hands. He looked at me with that beautiful smile and said, “Look Michael, he wanted to be caught!” He then instructed me to “hang on” to the kitten while he raced to Walmart and got food, litter box, kitty litter and cat food. I was left lying on the bed, holding this cat to my chest, trying to keep it calm while Sean was shopping. When he returned, and came to pick up the kitty, there was a yellow spot on my shirt. And those of you who know about cat urine know that the shirt was headed to the garbage after that. This new member of the family became known as Jake Ryan, from the movie “Sweet 16”—or sometimes, Jake the Snake. I crossed my fingers that nothing in the apartment would break, requiring the apartment people to come in for maintenance, and discovering our deception, for we never reported having a pet.
While living in Nashville, one year my mother, who lives alone, said that she would like to have a long-haired Chihuahua for Christmas. Sean and I decided that was the gift we would give her. We finally found a breeder and went to pick up the puppy on one of the iciest and snowiest nights in Nashville, about December 20th or so. That was so Sean would have a few days to play with the puppy before we took him to my mother. As you might expect, Sean was in charge of selecting the puppy. He didn’t get the cutest, or the biggest, or the sweetest. No, he got the one with the most energy. Something we later learned continues to challenge my mother.
After we moved to Indianapolis, Sean decided that Jake needed a playmate. He decided that a hunting dog would be perfect! So off we go to find the right companion for Jake. It turned out to be a Weimariner, one of those beautiful gray dogs with the blue or green eyes. He named her Macy Gray. We had a tough time (we thought) training Macy, as she would cry all night long. We couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. We were using the cage method to house train her. The cage was near the back patio, past the kitchen. We finally figured out why she cried all night by accident. One of us had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water in the wee hours of the morning. On top of the cage was Jake the Snake, slapping away at Macy. After a squirt from a water bottle, and a stern talking-to, Jake didn’t bother Macy anymore and Macy didn’t cry anymore
We spent just over a year in Indianapolis as Sean continued to grow professionally—to the point that he was recruited to move to home office in Philadelphia. My position in Indy had been eliminated, so the timing was perfect. Unfortunately, Jake and Macy were not able to make it and we had to find them new homes. This was not due to some policy at our new apartment but rather that travel would be a big part of both our jobs. We simply couldn’t properly care for pets.
After nearly a year in Philly, we realized that our relationship as a couple was not sustainable. I moved out of the apartment. In the meantime, Sean changed jobs. During his first business trip for the new company, to New Orleans, he demonstrated to his new colleagues his ability to do a backflip, learned during his years as an actor. However, the influence of several drinks caused a miscalculation that left him with two broken wrists. On a business trip! His first trip with that company!
About three months later, I found myself recruited to a position in NYC. I accepted and made the 90-mile move north. Sean later took a job himself in NYC, his old stomping grounds. Our friendship matured. Probably because we both had matured ourselves.
Aside from Arturo, his new love in NYC, Sean had some bad experiences with friends. These bad experiences included an introduction to Crystal Meth—known as “Tina” on the street from my understanding. While I am no angel, I confess that I have never even seen Crystal Meth. But I have seen the results of addiction to it. I have now seen them up close, and very, very personal. Particularly the one known as death. It hurts.
I think about Sean every single day. In his younger years, he was on track to become a star. He appeared in a couple of movies and several top TV shows, including “Roseanne” and “Growing Pains.” The day after I learned of his death, one of the movies he was in came on TV. Never before in my life had I seen the movie come on TV, although I once had the VHS of it. “Somebody is Waiting” is the title. I felt as though Sean was reaching out to let people know that he was fine—his pain truly was over and he now was in Heaven.
The funeral was one of the most difficult experiences of my life. There in the West Village at a beautiful church. I could not control my tears. This life did not deserve to be snuffed out so early. He had just turned 30 years old. The final resting place for this vessel that once contained his soul was put to rest in Kew Gardens. I know Sean is looking down saying, “if you have to bury me, do it ANYwhere but Kew Gardens!!!” The service was Catholic, but they sang a hymn that is a Southern Baptist standard: “How Great Thou Art.” Now my eyes are wet every time I hear that song. And the second place winner of last season’s “Nashville Star” sang that song better than I had ever heard it. I don’t need reminders, but that song will make me think of Sean from this day forward.
I didn’t have the courage to go to the cemetery. One day, I will. And I know I will once again cry.
There are so many more stories to be told about him. They should be told. One day, in some way, I hope to tell all of them I know. I don’t know a better place than this forum.
Sometimes I tell myself that I should stop thinking about him every day. After all, it was only 5 years. How can someone invade another’s life so completely in such a short time? I don’t know the answer. But I have realized that there is nothing wrong with remembering the good times that someone else shared with me.
And, in closing, I have to write something that I have failed to say in the past 12 months. Thank you, Wayne Chang, for being there. It means more than you will ever know.
