My partner Karen died March 10, 2006. Before moving to Florida to be with me four years, six months and ten days earlier, she had lived in New Hampshire and worked for a company in Massachusetts. I was born in Massachusetts. Karen and I had been friends when we were much younger. We lost touch a few years before I moved to Florida and had not spoken for over a decade before reconnecting. We decided that we wanted to have a relationship and she left her job, home and family to move to Florida to be with me. She was forty-seven and I was forty-two when we began our life together. We thought we would grow old together. But time was not our friend, nor on our side. Karen passed away just a few months before her fifty-second birthday.
The company Karen had worked for had begun to recognize same-sex domestic partnerships prior to her death and possibly even before she had retired. Some of her co-workers had advised me to find out about how to apply for her pension and even provided me with the phone number of the company that administered the pensions. I spoke with a representative and was told I needed to submit the death certificate as well as proof of domestic partnership. I live in Broward County, Florida, which was the only County in Florida to recognize and offer the opportunity for same-sex couples to register as domestic partners while Karen and I were together. Karen and I had registered as domestic partners a couple of years before her death. I actually waited three years before applying for her pension. I then submitted the required documents and waited for the response.
I received a letter informing me that the company did not recognize same-sex domestic partnerships. Therefore, I was not eligible to receive Karen’s pension and no benefits would be paid. That did not really surprise me. But what angered me and hurt me then and still causes anger pain even now is one sentence in that letter: I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.
I wanted to call or write to the person who wrote that letter and say: Karen was not just my friend! She was my partner, my spouse, the woman with whom I had planned to continue making and sharing a life. The woman with whom I shared a home and a bed and love! How dare you refer to her as “my friend”? How dare you suggest and/or imply that all we had was a friendship? If we had been a heterosexual couple, then I would have received condolences on the loss of my spouse, not my friend! I still have that letter somewhere.
Moderately liberal, liberally moderate, American flag waving Democrat! Bachelor of Arts in History with concentration in Early American History and Abraham Lincoln
Graduate student pursuing a Master of Arts Degree online in American History at Southern New Hampshire University