Remembering Bruce

Today we lost my Uncle Bruce. Uncle Bruce, who did not appreciate the term granduncle, was my grandmother’s baby brother. His passing, much like hers, is too soon.

I imagine there will be a lot written and said about Bruce Bastian and his incredible legacy. As the cofounder of WordPerfect, the first mainstream word processor, he literally changed the workplace for millions of people. I hope more will be written about his advocacy. He dedicated his life to further the acceptance of LGBTQ people, especially through his work with the Human Rights Campaign and Equality Utah.

I’ll leave it to others to write about the impact he had on the world. I’d like to share a little of the impact he had on me.

Growing up, Bruce was a complicating figure in my family. As a young Mormon boy, when I started to put together that I might be gay, it terrified me. And Bruce, an out gay man, was therefore terrifying. He represented what I was afraid of becoming–what I was taught to hate about myself.

And yet. How could you not admire what Bruce had accomplished? My grandma, Connie, spoke of him often, and always with pride. She was very protective of him and of how people spoke of him. My grandma was one of the first people that he had came out to many years before he was out publicly. She told me how she expressed her love for him unequivocally, and also how scared she was that the world would be cruel to him. Before I was ready to accept Bruce, and before I was ready to love myself fully, I knew that she loved him unconditionally.

When I came home after serving a two year mission for the LDS Church in Los Angeles, I gave a speech to my congregation. My grandma referred to herself as an atheist, and she did not like the LDS Church, but she never missed a Sunday when I was speaking. Again, unconditional love. After that homecoming talk, she gave me a big hug and told me, “I know you might not like hearing this, but you remind me so much of my brother. I love him, and I love you, and I’m proud of you.”

I look back on this as one of the sweetest compliments I’ve ever been paid and a moment in which I was really seen.

When I was finally ready to accept myself for who I was, I was scared to tell a lot of people, but I wasn’t scared to tell Grandma. And who was the first person that she wanted to tell? Bruce.

While I am lucky now to have a family that supports me unconditionally, coming out in the early 2000s was hard for me and my family.

Just months after my coming out, Bruce was planning a big gala dinner at his home for the Human Rights Campaign in June, 2008. My grandparents took me. This would be the last of many HRC dinners he hosted at that home in Orem, but it was the first that one of his siblings attended, and he was so excited about that. For me, this was a pivotal moment of acceptance when I realized that there was a much bigger world than I had previously imagined and that I could find a community of people, and family, who would embrace me.

Me and Bruce at the 2008 HRC Gala Dinner in Orem, Utah

My grandparents at the 2008 HRC Gala Dinner in Orem, Utah.

After BYU, I took Bruce’s advice and left Utah for the east coast. Bruce would come out to visit, once to Cape Cod, but usually to New York City. We’d see a show, have dinner at Elmo, and then go out to one of the gay bars for a pink drink. One of my favorite memories of Bruce is when we met up in June 2011 to see the Book of Mormon musical. We are both former Mormon missionaries, and seeing together that hilarious and yet tender portrayal of missionaries learning how to let go of the rules and embrace who they are was truly special.

During that visit, much to our surprise, the New York legislature voted to legalize gay marriage in the state. This was something that Bruce had been fighting for, and suddenly it was happening! The whole city erupted into a spontaneous pride party. They had to shut down streets in the village because everyone was out celebrating. It was a magical moment.

The spontaneous celebration celebrating marriage equality in New York.

Marking the day New York legalized gay marriage.

Bruce, my brother Andrew, and I at a 2017 HRC dinner in New York.

Another of my favorite memories of Bruce is in June, 2018 (I’m realizing how many of my favorite moments with Bruce are in June), when he married his love, Clint. Bruce had spent decades of his life fighting for gay marriage, and to see him exercise that right himself was incredible. He once shared with me many years ago that he feared he would never marry a man, but that he was so happy that I would be able to. But he found in Clint a loving and dedicated husband who was with him through much happiness and through the incredible sadness of his passing.

I will miss Bruce, and I will think of him often, but especially in June when we celebrate pride. I’ll remember the pride my grandma had for him and for me. I’ll remember how he gave me an early example of unconditional love through her. I’ll remember the fun times we had together and how unabashed he was in his pursuit of joy.

Tonight I’ll be having a glass of rose champagne in his memory (he loved his champagne pink because it was a little gay). Cheers, Bruce.