My pal has joined the stars
I stood at the top of a peak in the Accursed Mountains (the Albanian Alps!) a few days ago feeling awe and wonder mixed with sadness for the death of my brilliant, generous, and complicated pal Alberto Gaitan. I cried cathartic tears. And then I cried again a few hours later when I stopped to refill my water bottle at a cafe along the trail and made the mistake of checking Facebook when my phone lit up with a few bars of reception. I saw a steady stream of tributes from people throughout the DC art world and it reminded me of how much he had given to everyone, and to me.
I don’t remember when I first met him. He was an ardent supporter right from the beginning of my long weird journey in the DC art world, though. We joked a lot whenever we saw each other and tried to solve the world’s problems sometimes, too. I mailed postcards to him from all over the world over the years. He would have LOVED one from the Accursed Mountains and I am certain he would have joked about accursedness on social media.
Years ago, I invited him and his wife Victoria to accompany me on a strange boondoggle to Paris I’d “won.” I was allowed to bring four friends to be documented while flying on a new luxury airline and staying in a luxury hotel. I’m not sure what it says about our motley crew that the airline went defunct soon after that, but we had a blast in snowy Paris. Alberto wasn’t able to go because of his health, but Victoria came and called him every night. They adored and respected one another and took care of each other. It was one of my favorite things about Alberto, the way he loved Victoria. The way she loved him back.
Alberto had been one of a small group of friends I’d invited to my birthday bra burning bonfire two weeks before a mastectomy to excise cancer from my breast. I hadn’t told many people about my diagnosis at that point, only a few who’d made a difference in my life and who inspired me. I wrote this sappy description of what happened that night:
As I tossed in the first padded, underwire bra and encouraged the others to do the same, I reminded my friends not to wait for something life threatening or traumatic to happen to them before they followed their hearts and passions, because we are all right now dying and we don’t have much time left, any of us. I hoped that the fire and bra burning would cleanse us of our self-imposed limitations and expectations about ourselves and the world and set us free from more than just our tatas. I began 2013 vowing that I would live each day as if my hair were on fire. The birthday bonfire reaffirmed that promise.
I can live each day as if my hair is on fire because I stand on a sturdy foundation of friendship with brilliant stars like Alberto. We shared a love of the stars and when I look into the sky wherever I am in the world, I feel his presence. He saw the universe differently, more abundantly, than most. His opinion mattered to me. I flourished because of him.
