The Story of David Lewis and Jim Lansdowne
As told to us by Doris Maranda, from her tribute at David's memorial.

It was David's wish that his death be a celebratory rather than a depressing event. In keeping with that, I went out and bought this outfit which is different than the customary black.

It is very difficult for me to speak of David without speaking of Jim. In fact, it was a little over a year ago that David and I each stood at this podium to speak of Jim. Jim was 31 when he died - David was 38. This past year, since Jim's death, was very hard for David. For a month or so, he just felt the pain, the loneliness, the neediness. We used to talk daily on the phone. I too was experiencing a time of pain and loss in my life and we supported each other. He and Jim had a great love which was how Jim's mother expressed it when we talked on the phone last week. I believe that on some plane of existence, they're romping in the clouds together now. David walkways used to picture Jimmy's face in the clouds. It was very hard for David to go on - he missed Jim to the end and died with his picture beside his bed, guiding him on. Whenever someone would say, toward the end, that he would be joining Jim soon or to say hi to Jim, he would respond, "Oh, I hope so." What he did know is that his ashes would be buried beside Jim's in the beautiful little cemetery at Point Roberts.

I was part of David's private life and not his public one, although I applauded him in that. We met about 15 years ago but it wasn't until I went down to San Francisco and stayed with he and Jim that we connected. I wasn't feeling well that weekend and they were so sweet to me. In the following years, we visited back and forth between San Francisco and Vancouver, had fun and got to know each other. Then in the fall of '86, David phoned me - Jim had AIDS. I felt so bad - I remember crying on the phone with David. I went down to San Francisco shortly after to be with them, expecting, I don't know, that we'd talk of death and dying which we did a few times, but mostly we had fun. They both enjoyed life so much. In the following years, through Jim's illness, I became closer to both of them. They were so open about it all. David and I brought Jim back to Vancouver from San Francisco in June of 1989 so he could die at home, which he did 2 days later. I'll never forget that trip, especially the way David looked after Jim. If I hadn't loved David before, I would have after seeing his tenderness and care for Jim.

After Jim's death and that period of pain and loneliness, David decided to get involved with PWA. He poured himself into the AIDS activism work. It helped him to shut out the pain of Jim's going and his own health fears and gave a focus to his life. He felt he could use his skills and his previous experiences to make a contribution, to make a difference. It's obvious that he did.

It was hard at times to be his friend during the past year. I think he had to close his heart somewhat and get absorbed and obsessed with the work. I did understand what and why he was doing it though.

David was a unique and wonderful person of many extremes and intensities. You could love him, or hate him - you couldn't ignore him. He could be crazy and outrageous, sweet, loving and generous or bossy and manipulative. I was his friend and at times his substitute mother. In the past month with his brain tumour, he would get me mixed up with his mother. So we laughed about it and he'd introduce me as "my friend Doris who is not my mother."

In the days following David's death, I spent a lot of time reflecting, remembering our times together, feeling quiet and sober, and watching nature around me on the island where I live. I watched the tide going in and the tide going out. I observed plants blooming and dying. There is life and there is death and death is part of life. David and Jim helped me to see this, to really feel it.

There is a time to live and a time to die. To be able to choose and plan your own death is a rare and beautiful thing. To be a witness at it was a privilege.

David was my friend. I loved him. I will miss him.

David Lewis on the Memorial
Jim Lansdowne on the Memorial