The barbecue was in full swing across our rear patio, with Fran and Mike passing the margarita pitcher around the glorious Southern California sunshine as Greg lay in the sun, exposing his perfectly muscled torso for everyone to enjoy.

Eric watched the grill as I ran back and forth to the kitchen, grabbing salad dishes and condiments for the upcoming parade of hot dogs and burgers. But as I continued to busily prepare for the upcoming buffet, my usual catering operandi of “make sure everything is perfect” seemed to…well…disappear.

As I stood in the backdoor, looking out at the rear garden filled with friends, I realized that for the moment it didn’t need it to be perfect. It already was. Eric, my husband, was all smiles talking to Fran as they laughed; all my friends, together, sharing this moment of life, our lives, right now, was enough.

Where were these feelings of peace coming from? Perhaps everything that I’d gone through–from our marriage to my ski accident to Eric’s lawsuit to Hillary’s recent death– was behind us and we were, believe it or not, still here. An overwhelming feeling of love of life overcame me as I felt the warm sunshine across my skin and the laughter of my friends resounding through my head and heart. Suddenly, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

“You okay, Drew?” asked Eric from the Weber grill. I looked at him, beaming, and nodded a simple yes, proceeding to put the rest of the dishes on the patio table.

“C’mon and get it everyone,” I belted, handing out plates as Eric brought over a pan filled with barbecued meat. I thought about what I had just said and for some reason it seemed ironic to me. Was I asking people to get more than just food? Before I knew it everyone had food on their plates and margaritas in their glasses.

“Everyone?” I said, unable to contain myself. I had no idea what I was about to say, but I knew I had to say something. “I’d like to propose a toast,” I mumbled, when suddenly that felt wrong to me. I continued, “No, I’m sorry. Not a toast, but…believe it or not…grace.”

I looked around at everyone’s faces and could see their surprise.

Fran raised her margarita, looking at the patio door, “Is she here?”

People laughed but I didn’t let that bother me. “Yes, right here Fran.” I touched my chest, putting my palm over my heart. Suddenly, I could see Eric’s concern in his eyes and I could tell he thought I was drunk. “And no, I’m not drunk Eric.”

“Then drink up!” Yelled Eric, garnering some more laughs.

“In a minute. But I just wanted to say that…I love you all. With everything that Eric and I have gone through, and you know who you are, I wanted to say thank you for being here today. Life is love, and with Hillary’s passing, we need to remember how important every moment is.” Everyone looked like a herd of deer in headlights frozen on the Santa Monica Freeway. But by the slight smile on Fran’s face, I could tell it was registering. I continued, “Therefore, I would like to thank God, the Universe, Buddha, whatever or whomever YOU believe in–for this meal we are sharing together and to remember, to memorialize, our friends and family who may not be with us today but are certainly with us here in spirit. Thank you. Amen.”

A few whispered amens were heard across the patio but most people didn’t respond. Everyone quickly dived for the food. In that moment I realized how most gay people, including myself, are uncomfortable with any form of religion because it reminds us of the heartbreak we’ve had to deal with as being sinners in the eyes of the church and society. We don’t want to talk about God, we’d rather talk about cute guys and Barbie dolls.

Where was all of this coming from? I quickly poured myself another margarita, determined NOT to find out today.