I saw the above flyer in Mar of 2025 pop up in my social media feed. It instantly caught my attention because I've been thinking of my ex, Martin Zabaleta, whose name is on the memorial. He passed away in 2013. I wanted to pay tribute to him because I still think of him now and again.
When I went to the workshop at the 519, I met some folks from the community who similarly also wanted to pay tribute to their loved one who passed away because of AIDS. I was brought to a small room by one of the facilitators. There was a table with two chairs and a microphone attached to a laptop. The facilitator and I chatted for a bit, where he gave me a bit more of what I was expected to do and some background about the project. After a few moments, he asked me to get ready to speak to the microphone. What follows is what I recorded:
"Martin and I met at a party of a mutual friend sometime in 2006. We bonded over our shared history of drug misuse and recovery journey. We dated briefly, with our relationship lasting only a couple of months. But during those times, he took me to late night dance sessions in the club scene, treated me to a NYE dinner at the CN Tower, and introduced me to a couple of queer elders in the community whom I've come to respect. I am most grateful to him for taking me to an MCC Toronto church service, paving the way for me to finally reconcile my queerness with my Christian beliefs, thereby allowing me a step closer to breaking my cycle of drug addiction. What I remember most about him was his ability to play along with a joke in an instant. He didn't take life too seriously. He was very proud of his Argentinian background, and was very proud of the Argentinian men's national soccer team. He passed away in 2013 just as I was starting my career as an accountant."
In my conversations with the facilitator after my recording, I told him that one of the reasons why I wanted to record a tribute to Martin was because things have been going very well for me lately, and that, when things are good, I have a tendency to reflect and ask who helped me get there. Martin, I told the facilitator, made, and continue to make, an impact on my life. I can provide peace for my elderly parents because of Martin. Manny and I can send remittances to our family members back in the Philippines because of the contributions of Martin in my life.
After recording, I went back to the group of other people who came for the screening of a documentary about a community leader who passed away from AIDS in Toronto. The group was very diverse, and our experiences with HIV connected all of us. One of the people at the workshop was a man named Brian who spoke of his experiences burying many of his friends in the 80s and 90s. He spoke of lovingly visiting their graves at the cemetery to tend to the tulips that he plants every year. I took an interest in him because I thought that he would know Jim from June Callwood's Jim: A Life with AIDS. I wrote about Jim here.
After the screening ended, I made a beeline towards Brian. I asked him if he knew a man named Jim, showing him a picture of June's book cover.
"Yes! I knew Jim St. James!" he said. I was so excited. I asked him if I could ask him out for coffee sometime so I can ask about Jim.
"Of course!" he said. He gave me his phone number and email.
In a future blog, I'll write about my dinner meet-up with Brian. All I can say for now is that Brian turned out to be such a lovely and kind person, full of experience, many of which are reflected through poetry that he publishes online.
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