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kindkitI am deeply sad to learn that the Rev. David Coles died a few days ago. He was the husband of the Rev. Richard Coles, formerly of the bands Bronski Beat and the Communards and currently (in one of those life developments that no one would ever find plausible in a novel) vicar of Finedon.
I follow both of them on Twitter, and they seemed immensely happy together despite the Church of England's cruel prohibition on partnered gay and lesbian clergy having sex.* Their tweets about their home, their dogs, cooking and baking, etc. always gave me a pleasure not untinged with envy.
Richard has tweeted a few times since David's death, and is clearly shattered. One of the stories that's come up in a lot of articles is David, in an interview, talking about how he pictured the two of them retiring to the seaside together one day. That, and the thought of all those lost years (David was only 42 or 43) hurts my heart.
I've been thinking about them all day. It connects with lots of personal stuff for me--what I would wish for in a partnership if I ever find one, and my mother and how unutterably broken she was after my stepfather's death, and her own death, much too young.
At times like this I wish I did have religious faith (I've tried and failed more than once), because there would be something I could do. I don't know them personally, so I can't make a casserole or take their dogs for a walk. But if I were a believer, I could say a prayer, light a candle, and hope it did some good. I may light a candle anyway, because damn the darkness.
*I've always hoped, and even more so now, that they decided it was okay to lie about complying with an unjust rule, and had a happy sex life. I hope they didn't spend what turned out to be all their time together obediently waiting for the church to change its mind. I say again: damn the darkness.
ETA: Apparently Richard has been receiving some homophobic hate mail and online harassment since David's death. So one more time: damn the darkness.
I follow both of them on Twitter, and they seemed immensely happy together despite the Church of England's cruel prohibition on partnered gay and lesbian clergy having sex.* Their tweets about their home, their dogs, cooking and baking, etc. always gave me a pleasure not untinged with envy.
Richard has tweeted a few times since David's death, and is clearly shattered. One of the stories that's come up in a lot of articles is David, in an interview, talking about how he pictured the two of them retiring to the seaside together one day. That, and the thought of all those lost years (David was only 42 or 43) hurts my heart.
I've been thinking about them all day. It connects with lots of personal stuff for me--what I would wish for in a partnership if I ever find one, and my mother and how unutterably broken she was after my stepfather's death, and her own death, much too young.
At times like this I wish I did have religious faith (I've tried and failed more than once), because there would be something I could do. I don't know them personally, so I can't make a casserole or take their dogs for a walk. But if I were a believer, I could say a prayer, light a candle, and hope it did some good. I may light a candle anyway, because damn the darkness.
*I've always hoped, and even more so now, that they decided it was okay to lie about complying with an unjust rule, and had a happy sex life. I hope they didn't spend what turned out to be all their time together obediently waiting for the church to change its mind. I say again: damn the darkness.
ETA: Apparently Richard has been receiving some homophobic hate mail and online harassment since David's death. So one more time: damn the darkness.
