I can understand your fear in coming out, but not the decision you chose through that fear. It isn't logical that it had to end the way it did, not to me. It had to originate from outside your self, and you took all the hatred, fear and misconceptions that belonged to others and turned it inward, poisoning your own mind and spirit. And like the disease "hatred" is, it destroyed you.

Sadly, you weren't exposed to an open, healthy outlook on gay sexuality to help bring you to self-acceptance. The small city you were raised in was not liberal minded like Toronto. Granted, homosexuality was not visible, but your best friend had a gay big brother who came out, and Tony and I had gay friends, and you knew they were loved and respected. So why were you afraid to at least trust me?

I can tell you now it doesn't matter to me who you want to love, but now is too late. Bruce, even when you did explain in your note, it was already too late! You didn't get it, Bruce. You didn't get that I valued and loved all the parts of you and always would, no matter what. The love didn't come with conditions if you were this, if you were that, if you did this, if you did that price tag. You were my kid. It wouldn't have made any difference to me! I would've stood by you no matter what!

It just kills me that you didn't know that! Or maybe I didn't matter at all in this! Maybe the truth is just as you said you couldn't deal with it. But that's because you couldn't share your feelings and fears. Being all alone in a private war with yourself, I can understand that you believed dying would relieve you of your battle. But it's such a shame you could forsake your life based on not finding yourself a heterosexual. You didn't chance anyone else's condemnation Bruce; you condemned yourself.

What you wrote to us all tells volumes about your caring, love and sensitivity for all those you loved. All those words straight from your heart trying to make it all right. No blame or hatred, no lashing out just a sad reflection of your situation with hope for our understanding and God's acceptance. Your gentle soul shines through your words and the beauty of who you were make your loss even more horrific for me.

I still feel sick whenever I remember that night in Flagstaff when I read it for the first time and realized you were dead. So devastating to know you were gone forever, that it was no longer a fear in the back of my mind, but an excruciating reality. Disbelief even in the face of proof! I can only recall the pain of that moment and the days and months that followed; I cannot describe it adequately. Adding to the pain of losing you, I suffer yours over and over again since I've come to know the little you told, with so much still a great puzzle that plagues me and haunt my days.

The most contradictory aspect of your humanity lies in the fact that you were so nonjudgmental in your love of others, yet you judged yourself so harshly. You poured out caring and understanding and inwardly battered yourself. How terrible it must have been for you to feel you could not share your own pain with anyone.

You obviously feared rejection, and this pains me still. If there is someone out there who knew the reason for the crisis you were going through, they never said. You said in your note that we would be able to deal with it better than you could. Bruce, you neither realized what you meant to us, nor could you have understood the impact your suicide would have on us.

While you took control of your life and exercised a choice, we've been left helpless to do nothing other than accept your horrible decision to die. It's the bitterest pill we've had to swallow. Knowing everything too late to help to offer love to keep you alive. Everything changed with your death, Bruce. All of us, in different ways, are affected.

Learning about your hidden truths made me realize how little we really know about the people we love in our lives, no matter how close to us, and that is very frightening to me. I was cheated of truly knowing you, my own son, and we can only know what someone is willing to share. And the ironic thing is that I always believed I knew you so well because you told me more about yourself than your brothers ever did, openly voiced your hurts and disappointments when you were growing up. You were such an expressive individual, not given to bottling up your feelings. You were a wonderful communicator, and an attentive listener. And I loved that you would talk with me so much.

Unfortunately, it lulled me into believing I knew "where you were at" with yourself and life in general. So I worried less about your well being, and it turns out, you were the one in real trouble. Things are not always as they seem, are they?

I remember too, how you could talk your way around me to make me see and understand what you wanted. I could be dead set against something, and if you were committed to an idea you would talk and talk, until I was convinced you knew what was best for you, and I'd give in to your logic. You had such firm convictions, that I respected your judgment on matters affecting your life, your future. I also trusted your word. I'd always believed you, Bruce, and you earned my respect as you grew into adulthood. I know now that the negative feelings and mood swings you were having over the last year of your life weren't normal growing pains with the usual confusion that comes with being a young adult having to make life decisions.