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One of my heroes died quietly this morning in a hospital in central Texas. She is the loved one of two of my dearest friends and I’ve been praying for her for a long time now, even though we never met. The world will be less without her and yet one would describe her life as somewhat obscure. Auntie A, the affection obvious in the name, was gay, bi-polar, on dialysis, pitied, loving and someone’s beloved. In hearing the stories of her life it seems that sometimes Alix was out of touch with reality and at other times representative of a Reality that is too real for the rest of us to accommodate.

In a life where mania and depression are the parenthetical markers I wonder how one would describe the ordinary middle where most of us live our days. Perhaps as less than, or without texture; or maybe she would have said the place “in between” is peace-filled and quiet. Alix lived and shared life between those markers with her beloved partner for forty plus years. Susan’s love was big enough to accommodate the extremes of Auntie A’s moods and their shared commitment was strong enough to withstand the added polarization from a culture that is fixated on homosexuality.

It seems important to note that after these many years of love and care, the most significant person in Alix’s life is not the legal heir to their belongings, she is not the “next of kin,” and Susan’s deep and devastating pain will likely be camouflaged as something other so she can safely mourn.

Young gays and lesbians who are free to be “open” about who they are on college campuses today should know that Alix helped pave the way for their freedom. Her integrity combined with the love of good parents enabled her to be among the first to take a stand for gay rights.

Parents and families of bi-polar loved ones should know that Auntie A left a legacy that proves that mental illness does not necessarily exclude a life fully lived in relationship with another. Her ability to love well, in spite of her disorder, and to be loved deeply and honestly is a gift for all of us who hope and pray for the same for our children, siblings or close friends.
 
The wisdom teachers of our time say that the important lessons in life are learned either from immense suffering or from great love. To that I would say Billie Alexander Hargrave must indeed be wise. She suffered. She was loved. And she loved well in return. I believe, with all of my heart, in an all loving and all benevolent God. So today I can imagine that a gay, bi-polar, well loved and weary soul has fallen into the arms of that Benevolence and that she is at peace.

Auntie A left the world better than she found it. It is our task to do the same.