I don't have any blood family, save for my autistic brother, who I've raised since he was four.
I did have a grandmother, and she was a major fag hag, Her collection of gay dudes was the closest thing to family there was. Two of them stayed very close, they didn't have blood family either, so holidays and stuff we were always together. They are the best memories of my childhood.
One died from an opium overdosed a few years ago.
The other was an HSTS, married, lived a very normal life with his husband for like twenty years, until throat cancer took his husband after a prolonged, agonizing struggle.
It destroyed him. He left their mansion and never went back, refused to even discuss the property, which sat there fully furnished like Libarace's winter home. It was taken by the city for unpaid taxes eventually. He drank up all the life insurance and inheritance money over the course of a ten months. When the money was gone he got a shitty hotel room upstate and slashed his wrists in a hot bath.
Last time we spoke he was very, very drunk. He said "I'm going home!" And i said that's good, you should go home!
I didn't realize what he meant. And I'm so fucking sorry.
He could have stayed with me, or others, he was a lovely person with many friends. But his husband was gone, and he wasn't attractive anymore and couldn't keep up with the wigs and makeup and clothes. It was too much work. I get it. But knowing he was so alone, and had to die that way.. it'll haunt me forever.
He would have loved this fuckin website.