When I turned 30 my therapist asked me, "Are you OK with your parents dying without knowing you’re gay?" I knew the answer instantly.
Exactly five months later I came out to them.
They were on a visit from India, where they live. In retrospect, it was all a bit surreal. We came home from dinner at a tapas place in the West Village, and I asked them if they wanted some ice cream. They said yes. I said OK.
And I dished out more than just ice cream.
I had played this scenario in my head about 700 times in an imagined filmic version. I had imagined almost as many different outcomes. So when the time came for the actual event, I was feeling calm and surprisingly unemotional. That was because I was somehow sure that it would be one of the optimistic outcomes.