Don't Tell Me My Own Story

I need to set a record straight.

Tonight I went to dinner with my aunt, who told me this story about myself:

When I came out to my parents, they shunned me and turned their backs on me, so I went to live with my grandparents (and, coincidentally, my aunt). Every Sunday my parents would come to my grandparents' house to have dinner and play cards. Every week my grandparents would regale them with stories of how funny and kind I am and how I'd made them some wonderful meal or was, in general, a wonderful person, until, after weeks, my parents realized their mistake. One week, after not having spoken to me this entire time, they came over, my mother looking very grim, and my father said to me, "we don't approve of what you're doing, but we want to be a part of your life," then, to my mom, "did I get that right?" She silently nodded.

This story never happened.

Here is what did happen:

I came out to my parents while I was in college and they were surprised and disappointed and confused and probably upset. They never turned their backs on me and they never stopped speaking to me. I had come home for some holiday? One of my brothers' mission farewell? That seems the most likely. I came out to my mom in the car on a drive somewhere because she asked me why I hadn't taken the sacrament, so I told her. ("But how do you know you like girls?" "I don't know. How do you know you like chocolate ice cream?" "Well, I've tried chocolate ice cream." "Well....")

Roughly a year later, I sat them down in the living room of their home and told them that I was engaged to be married to a girl. They were not happy about the news, but stayed remarkably calm. Later that night (or maybe the next day, but I'm pretty sure it was within hours) I was downstairs at one of their computers and my dad came down and said something to the effect of, "we don't want you to think we approve of the choice you're making, but we also want to be there for the big events in your life, so we'd like to come to the wedding." My aunt was not there. It was a private and really touching moment (if a little awkward) between me and my dad who was doing his damndest to reconcile his incredible love for me with his incredible belief in his Mormon faith. I think he did a pretty kick ass job juggling what must have been an emotional nightmare. With the exception of my youngest brother, who was in Peru on a mission, my entire family came to my destination wedding. (We got married in Vancouver, B.C. because this was before gay marriage was legal in the good ol' US of A.)

It is true that while we were engaged, my fiancé, Becca, and I lived with my grandparents and my aunt for a couple months. This was a choice Becca and I made because my parents weren't comfortable with us sharing a bed before we were married (a rule that also applied to my three straight brothers) and we had already been living together for nearly two years and weren't willing to stop sharing a bed. We were never, that I recall, given any grief about our choice by my parents. We were respectful of the rules of their house. Once we were married, we stayed with them many times and they never batted an eye at us sharing a bed.

In my aunt's story, my grandparents were heroes because instead of shaming my parents into speaking to me again, they just carefully and consistently reminded them what a wonderful person I am until they realized what they were missing out on. In reality, my grandparents are heroes because they raised a son that loves his children fiercely and would never turn his back on them, and who married a woman who is every bit as loving and compassionate as he is. Even when faced with what to them must have felt like not only a deep disappointment, but also a failure of their faith, they were gracious, kind, loving, and made a conscious effort to welcome my wife into our family. She and I were lucky. No one in her family was able to come to the wedding, but they also welcomed me into their clan with open arms. The world is shifting, but we still live in a time where not all coming out stories have such a happy ending.

But my story is a happy one. No one gets to change that. No one.