The Daniele and Gene Story

by Daniele de Groot (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Australia

In January, I traveled from New York City to Sydney, Australia, the beginning of a grand, mostly solo, adventure. When I landed, I was a combination of anxious, excited, and jet-lagged. It was my first time traveling alone, and I arrived just as the fires were beginning to be contained and Coronavirus was beginning to spread. Gene was one of my ties to home in Australia -- he's 92 years old and the partner of one of my mom’s closest coworkers in the 1990s, John. My contact with them was a card with the inscription “to Daniele, love Uncles John and Gene” from when I was born. After traveling between New York City and Australia for much of their time together, they picked Sydney for their final days. When I emailed, Gene sadly told us that John had passed last year, but that he would love for me to visit while in Sydney. Though a hesitant about going, I decided to see him on my second day, knowing it would mean a lot to my mom. His caregiver, Esther, answered the door and confided that she had been responding to our emails and was thrilled I was visiting. She was kind and patient as she introduced me to Gene, who is dependent on oxygen and a walker, and is battling dementia. Gene wears glasses and has thick eyebrows that frame his kind eyes. One of his first comments to me was that he “didn’t used to look like this,” as he gestured to a bit of belly that reminded me of my grandfather. His apartment was sparse, but nice and clean. The balcony had a great view of Sydney, including the Opera House in the distance. There were several photos of him and John, and some newspaper clippings about their home in Connecticut that he showed me proudly. Our conversation started simply with an introduction and an explanation of our connection. It was apparent almost immediately that he was struggling to remember my mom, and my attempts to describe her and our family left me feeling emotional and grasping for something to jog his memory. He was patient as I tried to mask tears, just waiting for me to collect myself and ask the next question. My mom sent along anecdotes about John to tell him, each bringing a big smile and sometimes a story. Gene assured me that he was beginning to get an idea of who she was, and that she meant a lot to John. Gene handed me a small pamphlet titled “The John and Gene Story.” At his prompting, I began reading and asking questions about his family, growing up in New York, going to school in Chicago, and his work in the fashion industry. He told me his one regret about leaving college early – not learning to play bridge – and about his service in the military after World War II. He reminisced about running marathons with John and was frustrated by his struggling memory. We improbably had some things in common. We talked about visits to different corners of the world and our experiences in China. He told me about his old running route along the Lower East Side of Manhattan, while I talked about living and working in Brooklyn. I was never able to find the words to tell him that his love for John was inspiring and deeply moving, especially as someone who identifies as gay. When it was time to leave, I felt myself becoming emotional again - knowing that this was most certainly our only time together. I was and remain very touched by Gene’s kindness and openness. And it was not lost on me that we were meeting at very different points in our lives, as my adventure was about to begin in earnest and his was coming to a close. In our final moments together, our talk came back to John, Gene’s love and sadness abundantly clear. They were together for over 60 years, something I still marvel at. As I was beginning to leave, he urged, “value your time.” Though we made an unlikely pair, I left his home feeling grateful to hear his story and for our time together.