Remembering Jerry Van Nimwegian deceased 1994 aged 24yrs. I had to write it as I recalled it this morning, a day out from world aids day, I met Jerry on Oxford St. out the front of "numbers" a few doors up from the "midnight shift". This was only my second time visiting the gay strip, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Jerry just so easy propositioned me to have sex with him. "wanna root me". "sure" I said. We walked the short distance to the modern two bedroom terrace style flat on Crown st. I marvelled at his perfectly proportioned body, he was wearing tight blue 501's and a really tight white tshirt. He was beautiful, I stared at his face. He had the deepest blue eyes with the softest long dark lashes. He laughed a girlish laugh and had a slight accent as a result of speaking "Dutch" in his childhood home. "Are you cut"? "Yes" I said. "Good, I only suck guys who are cut" "Oh" he was laying down the rules. I had been gay with my eyes for years, constantly looking at other men with a lustful eye but I had never actually taken that next step. I hadn't even kissed a man, I knew I wanted to and other things too. The flat came fully furnished, and Jerry shared the apartment with Glen a gay Catholic priest. Jerry placed the condom on my dick using his mouth, I was impressed, he was expert in all things sexual and explored my body thoroughly with his tongue, he quickly picked up on my comparatively unskilled approach. Looking back I think he was proud of his sexual dexterity, and a huge exhibitionist. "I used to do this for a living" I tried not to sound shocked. "what do you do now"? "I'm not doing anything now, but I'd like to be a hairdresser, I'd like to be an apprentice, but I'm on sickness benefits at the moment, so we'll see..." I looked at his perfect body and felt incredulous, why would this magnificent looking man be on sickness benefits? "I'm just getting over pneumonia" he said as he lit another cigarette. "I was in hospital in Brisbane and the doctor told me to get to NSW so I did and I'm getting better, I've even started going to the gym. That's why I want to go back to work. I became a regular visitor to the apartment in Crown St, I got to know Jerry a bit more and soon we became a couple of sorts. He grew up in an evangelical household and held a resentment towards his mother, he loved his brothers and had a suspicion that his younger brother Chris was gay as well. He had a sense of being rejected by his family and worked as a hooker on the Gold Coast and in Brisbane. He told me he was confused and once contemplated gender reassignment, even beginning hormone treatment. I took my first ecstasy pill with Jerry at a Dance Party in a Basketball stadium in Mascot and we danced to Ezy Pozzee's dance track "everthing starts with an E". and then had drug fuelled sex when we got home. Jerry's pneumonia returned and he needed to go to the hospital. I had only ever walked past St Vincents hospital, never been inside. The AIDS ward was fully occupied and after spending time in a hallway Jerry got a bed. The doctor who always wore a bow tie told him that he could try a new drug "DDC" as the drug he had been taking "AZT" didn't seem to be working anymore. He was discharged from hospital noticeably weaker. At a clinic appointment the next month he found out he had Cryptosporidium a stomach bug that would be hard to treat. He started taking ever increasing amounts of medication but seemed to be getting no better. He had some ok days when he was well enough to wash his abundant supply of white Marc's T-shirts, and on other days he was to sick to get out of bed. We were poor, and struggled week to week on a minimal budget. We sought additional help from charity. We moved into a duplex in Randwick and then to a cheap bedsit in Potts Point. Jerry's painful bouts of diarrhoea made him weaker and depressed. He started talking about reconnecting with his family, he planed a trip to Brisbane on the train, but never got their. Jerry needed money. Not a lot but enough to buy a few nice things to get through the next few months and lucky for him he got a break. Jerry had worked at The Commonwealth Bank as a loans officer prior to his diagnosis, he was encouraged to leave the bank after a poor staff appraisal and a smart lawyer at the legal centre found out the bank still had some of Jerry's money. I think it was $16000. Anyhow money is a poor consolation to good health but it buys sheets and towels and warm pyjamas. Jerry moved to a unit in Edgecliffe. It was his last address. We started the long goodbye when he first mentioned suicide by drug injection. His plan was to buy a $1000 worth of smack and whack it into his vein when he could stand it no more. He rang me two weeks later at 5am. "I'm doing it today". I said OK, I was emotionally exhausted from talking about nothing else since he first raised the idea. "Don't tell my mum" I won't. I said. I didn't know how to contact his mother anyway. The phone rang the next morning, it was Jerry, the drugs didn't kill him, they just made him sick. The thought that the overdose wouldn't kill him had never occurred to Jerry and he went from anger to a sense of relief that he was still here. "I won't try again" he said. Jerry went into hospital for the last time in early May 1994. He had liver failure. He weighed 40kgs. He had lost 30 kilos in 3years. His face had a permanent expression of pain and he was unable to walk. A nurse informed me that the hospital had notified Jerry's mother of his imminent death and she was on her way. He drifted in and out of consciousness. She arrived the next morning, she entered the darkened room and held her baby one last time. I stood at the doorway unable to speak. The hospital rang and said Jerry had died at 11pm. With his mother by his side. I cried tears of relief that his pain was now finally ended. Jerry's mum rang me and told me she had made funeral arrangements for her son. She graciously invited me to attend. He was cremated at PineGrove. No one spoke at his service and the Vietnamese priest couldn't say Jerry's name. Jerry died 19years ago, he is not forgotten. POSTSCRIPT I moved to the mid north coast to escape Sydney 10 years ago. On an almost deserted beach near Port Macquarie I met a young man with deep blue eyes and beautiful lashes. When the man laughed i recognised the family resemblance. I knew your brother I told him. He wanted to know as much as I could tell him. I told him how we met, how he helped me to come out of the closet and how hard he fought to live. I searched for a photo of Jerry to give him but couldn't find one. Recently I found this pic of him. Rest in peace old friend. You were right about your brother, he is gay.
