My Lesbian Friend
Jen Lifland was a friend of mine, a beautiful, lovely soul, who left this world today.
I first met Jen and her partner, later wife, Heather, years ago when I did a solo performance at an incredibly small theater on the West Side of Manhattan.
It’s the kind of event that normally only your closest friends and dearest family members attend—if you’re lucky.
But Jen and Heather had seen it listed on some website and they approached me after the show.
They were so kind, loving and friendly and they invited me to go out drinking with them, which I readily did.
We ended up at a bar near Madison Square Garden with Jen stroking my cheek and saying “he’s so cute!”
"Can I be your lesbian friend?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, “every man should have at least one.”
As Humphrey Bogart observed in Casablanca, it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
All kidding aside, I must say that I’m proud to have gay friends.
Wish You Were Here
I grew up in a conservative neighborhood and suffered through eight years of Catholic school, where gay people were scorned and condemned.
Making a deep connection with people who are so different from that world is a blessing to me.
Over the next several years I got together with Jen and Heather, met their friends, and attended their wedding, which was a blast.
Jen and Heather tried several times to find a girlfriend for me, and though it didn’t quite work out, I will be eternally grateful for their heartfelt efforts on my behalf.
One of my fondest memories is when my sister and I attended a Halloween party at Jen and Heather’s apartment in lower Manhattan.
The pandemic pretty much killed most socializing, so we didn’t get to see Jen and Heather during the last 18 months, and Facebook was the only contact we had.
We talked about getting together, but it didn’t happen. And then Heather posted the news that Jen had tried to take her own life.
Each day Heather shared updates about Jen’s condition.
The news was grim, but I deluded myself into believing the Jen would recover, that she was strong, and that she would come through this, and everything would be okay again.
I even thought about visiting her in the hospital with my sister.
And then I picked up my phone this morning.
As someone who has looked down the road of self-destruction, I know that the mind can create terrible things that aren’t there, barriers that seem insurmountable, until you believe that you have no other option but to end your life.
Jen, I love you with all my heart and I am going to miss the hell of you.
Rest in peace, my lesbian friend.
Comments
I am so sorry to hear about your dear friend, Jen. Like you said, the mind can create terrible things that aren’t there, barriers that seem insurmountable, until you believe that you have no other option but to end your life.
I love both the photos you shared, particularly the second one. I love the smile on both your faces.
Rest in peace, Jen! X
Ron, I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your friend. Please accept my condolences. My prayers go out to you and all her loved ones.
I love those photos of me and Jen and that's the way I'll remember her.
Take care, buddy!
No, we don't know the demons that other people are facing and I hope to God that I was a bright light in Jen's life. she certainly was in mind.
We did have a special bond. I thank you so much for your kindness and sympathy.
Take care!
Sadly, whatever demons she was battling got the better of her. We never know what fatal harm an inner turmoil can do when as you said there seems no other path than to end a life.
It's so sad not only for the person, but for the family and friends left behind to remember and to wish they had known to have offered support.
As you said in your previous post, Rob, life has regrets.
Thanks, Dorothy.
She was indeed a dear friend and her passing has left such a void in so many lives.
When we lose someone to suicide we can't but wonder what we might have done differently.
Take care.
Yes, it turns out that Jen was also terribly ill, which clearly ravaged her mental health.
Take care.