Barry David Hayden – theAIDSmemorial Post

“Today, I’m remembering my dear friend Barry David Hayden (February 3, 1964 - September 17, 1996) on what would have been his 56th birthday.  An ordinary man, extraordinary to the people that loved him.  Forever young and handsome.I remember when I summoned the courage to go to a gay bar in mid-1984.  I remember that you were the first person I met there.  I remember that despite my general awkwardness we became steadfast friends.  I remember your quick wit and turn of phrase, punctuated by never letting the truth get in the way of a good story.  I remember countless nights at your flat on Salisbury Street where we drank boxed white wine and listened to Matt Bianco and Elvis Costello records.I remember when you moved to Auckland, and I remember following you there.  I remember nights spent dancing at Alfie’s or the Staircase (or the Es-ca-lada as you called it) and ‘sampling the suburbs’ if we got lucky.  You worked for an airline by then, and I remember that you assisted me escape the tediousness of 1980’s New Zealand, by allowing me to pay for my one-way airline ticket in instalments.I remember how loyal you were to me, even when you didn’t necessarily agree with my approach or perspective.  I remember thinking that everything in your life seemed to be coming together when you consulted your doctor about a lesion that had mysteriously appeared on your arm in 1996.I remember when you called me to tell me that you were not only HIV positive but had AIDS. Over 23 years later, I have a laser-sharp memory of taking your phone call in my bedroom, and I remember struggling to comprehend what you were telling me. I remember that I remained optimistic; somewhat buoyed by the success of drug cocktail therapy in the mid-90s.The next thing I remember was our friend Vaughan calling me in tears to let me know you were gone.  I remember trying to reconcile this cruelty with your intrinsic goodness. I couldn’t.“ — by Jay Baycrof