The silence was the loudest thing I had ever heard. I wasn't exactly sure what homosexuality was, but I was confident that if my brother was making that announcement, it had to be something incredibly awesome.

My parents had a different reaction. After the family meeting, which was adjourned quickly, there were loud exchanges of anger, then the silence enveloped the house for months. As the silence lifted, there was a new tone of rejection and disgust my parents held on to for a very long time, until my mother saw him in love and happy, then there was more harmony and acceptance. My father never truly accepted that this was part of David's identity.

John David Morgan was my older brother, my mentor and one hell of a gorgeous man. He made mix tapes, screenplays, poetry and art. As I came of age and graduated high school, I would come to know many gorgeous men, colorful characters and dance the night away in forbidden Chicago clubs. Travelling to Chicago to visit my brother from Michigan was what I thought would be the start of our grand adventure together. He introduced me to all of his Gold Coast friends, the Leather men, the drag queens….I was everyone's little sister and I LOVED it.

On one visit, the start of a different adventure began for my brother. One marked by fevers, sweats, hazmat suits and trips to the hospital. Brown paper bags of medicine, lesions on his skin. Fundraising to bury or care for friends. Protests.

He kept us believing it was the flu, he had periods of good health, but those beautiful friends knew what I would find out a year later. David had AIDS. The day we found out, he called from Seattle where he and his partner John Shearer had opened a bar called Sparks- the first ever leather bar in the area to offer live drag performances. I was older and more exposed to the world, living a California dream, so when he called to tell us the finality of his diagnosis, the dread and shock I felt was devastating. I had lost my mother just years prior, so this loss was so profound and would cut me off from my queer families for decades.

When I think of my legacy, I think of my brother. I think of my sister who has lived a mostly closeted life her entire 72 years. My legacy is in their honor as I believe they both should have been able to live freely without social stigma and violence. Dedicating my volunteer time, my activism and helping co-create the Senior Legacy Project has been deeply meaningful and healing. Being in community with those who have lived through history like my brother and sister and are here to tell the stories will hopefully ease someone's journey into authenticity.

My brother never dimmed his authentic self, despite coming out and feeling rejection. The love he found with his partner was my first witness to real love and I will never forget that memory imprinted on my heart. How beautiful the love between these two gorgeous men was, how deep the bond, and how everlasting the care.