Remembering Russell (Page 1 of 2)

Sometime as a freshman in the fall of 1999, I crossed the campus at Maryville College. “Hey, Russell!” I heard someone shouting across the lawn. “Hey…slow down!” The girl’s voice got closer. Almost upon me now, “Russell…HEY! Wait…you’re not Russell. Sorry.” Vickie, the stranger, walked away. We would soon become good friends. I had just become “NOT RUSSELL.”

Russell Sherman Groff later became a sort of guidepost for my life. He was a senior when I was a freshman. I thought he was the best thing out there. When I saw him in the cafeteria, I couldn’t stop staring at him. Everyone thought we looked a lot alike. I wondered if that made me a narcissist. My life eventually mirrored his in odd, unexpected ways. He was a theater major. I became a theater major. He worked at BelAir Grill, I worked at BelAir Grill. He worked at RT Lodge, I worked at RT Lodge… you get the picture. I didn’t get to know him as well as I would have liked, but we did hang out sometimes. I was always in awe when I got to be in his presence, working in the theater, eating in the cafeteria or getting high in his dorm room or minivan.

Fast-forward to this e-mail, Nov. 23, 2004, from Russell’s partner:

Subject: Russ has died

Russell passed this morning around noon. Mom and I were in the hospital, and I saw that his numbers were looking really weird. Heart rate going from 140 to 80 to 60 to 30 to 180. He knew we were there. He was still on the ventilator and kidney dialysis. I told him I loved him and I missed him and kissed him and then went out of the room. I came back and mom was still reading him John Stewart stuff. I stood in there, and it was a bit too much. The nurse said I said something to him, but I don't remember what. I told him I'd be right back, I know that. Or maybe the order was different — I can't remember.  Anyway, she said that the MOMENT I left the room his pulse just stopped. I came back and mom met me at the door to the ICU and told me Russ died. I collapsed, they carried my sorry ass to another room where I just let it out — I'm sure I’ll let out more. They cleaned Russell up and I went in — he has a little smile on his face that he does when he and I make the MEE MEE sound. I laid on the bed with him, and put my head on his chest. It was still warm.

Friends came and sat with me for a few hours while I made tons of calls. We're going to Tennessee tomorrow or Thursday, and I’ll be there for a week or so. The memorial service is in Tennessee and the other one in Maryland have yet to be arranged.

If any of you have any memories of Russell, I'm writing his obituary as soon as I can. I'd love to include others' memories of him in it.

All I want is to be wherever he went.

My boo boo is not with me :(

Russell was 26. Friends attended a service for Russell shortly after that e-mail and shared stories of Russell, his life and how he had an impact on their lives. We continue to do that from time to time, especially when we see the Muppets, of which Russell was very fond.

In 2005 Russell’s parents brought legal action against his partner to have his grave exhumed and moved. Then on Oct. 15, 2005, some friends saw Russell’s parents at the Come Out Knoxville events on Market Square, literally using him as a poster child for their fearful message that gay people get AIDS and die. Though we all admit that AIDS disproportionately affects gay men, most of us now realize that AIDS isn’t a gay disease. Russell’s friends also realize that of the many issues for which Russell might want to be a poster child, this message was not one.

I’ve thought of Russell’s mom many, many times since that event. When most of my friends have been angry with her, my heart has been broken for her. I have often imagined having coffee with her one evening, winning her over with my charm and having her realize how misdirected her anger, fear and hurt are. I have wanted to let her know that Russell’s friends are blessed by our memories of him, and she may be selling herself short by embracing negative feelings and continually hurting herself rather than celebrating his short but amazing life.