To Grieve Deeply. To Love Deeply: Jacques Story
By Ross ReaganJanuary 18th, 2026 One of the great pleasures of interviewing other members from the Gay Men’s Brotherhood is meeting people from around the world. I’ve talked to other gay men in different cities, states, countries, and (now) continents. Before the New Year, I sat down with Jacques, born and raised near Cape Town, South Africa, who joined the GMB group last year. Since then, he has shared inspiring reminders for all of us, like facing our fears and being confident in queer spaces, embracing our bodies, and celebrating getting older. He has also shared openly about his history of substance abuse for 11 years, his positive HIV status, and the recent loss of his husband, Pierre. Being so active and connected to us all, Jacques’ posts remind me of beautiful gems of wisdom I can’t find anywhere else but in the GMB community. He is a living, breathing testament to two very powerful gifts life has to offer if we have the courage to take them: love and growth. When asked what he’s looking forward to this year, he said. “I’m looking for something different. I turned 50 in May and I’m looking for something more than the 35-year-old version of me would have been looking for…it is to see what I’m capable of because I would always limit myself… this is completely new territory for me. I’m open to taking chances. I’m flexing my muscles to be comfortable with being uncomfortable because I know the growth lies outside my comfort zone.” This growth didn’t come easy for Jacques. As it often does for us, it came as a result from a great deal of pain. Sixteen months ago, Jacques tragically lost his husband, Pierre. Since then, he has shared how he’s coped, found serenity, and reached out to the group for love and support. He shared with me what happens when you lose the love of your life after 19 years. He explained what moving through grief looks and feels like for gay men: “After driving home from the hospital and saying goodbye [to Pierre], I remember I was almost home and I looked around. I talked to myself and I said, ‘I don’t want to go through this.’ And I made a count of how many people are left in my life. Pierre was my lover, my son, my brother. My family. My all-in-one person was taken away from me in one instant in one moment.” Many gay men feel disconnected from the gay community, and when they lose their partner, they often don’t have other friends and family to connect with or gain support from like our straight counterparts would. But joining the Gay Men’s Brotherhood gave Jacques a safe space to grieve the loss of his husband: “VISIBILITY is always important in the gay community. Even though I was completely broken for more than a year, I mourned him very OPENLY (at work, in my home town, with people that I met). I wanted everyone around me to see that men can DEEPLY love men, that my pain is real and valid and that gay relationships can last just as long as hetero ones.” Thankfully, we are living in a world much more accepting and celebratory, where the pain and joys of being open as gay men are seen as valid and sacred. We have spaces where we can be seen through our grief. As Jacques and I continued our chat, I realized the love Jacques gave to his husband was equal if not more evident in the love he showed for himself. But that love is sometimes hard to access from others. As gay men, we are given cultural lessons to mask our own personality, to hide the different parts of us that make us gay. To love less in order to shield our fears of rejection. Growing up near Cape Town, South Africa, Jacques was raised in a religious household. He was the younger brother who always had to be the quiet, hardworking type in order to feel seen or valued. “I needed to perform, I needed to be the good boy,” he said. “Keep quiet because they might discover this secret about me.” In his early twenties, Jacques met and dated another man twenty four years his senior. After seven years together, he realized he was looking for a father figure in this person, losing sight of what he wanted out of life. He found himself burnt out. “I felt twice my age by 30. I wanted to recapture my youth and make up for lost time.” But the irony of living a potentially free life, untangled by the demands of a relationship, seemed to create another conflict in the vibrant, gay-centric city of Cape Town. Although big metropolitan cities offer a variety of gay men and events to choose from, the setback can lie in some of the shallow behavior, projections, and walls gay men build around them. “I’ve always felt disconnected from the gay population,” Jacques admitted. “I didn’t really connect well with the kind of circles people moved around in. I wasn’t someone who wanted to go clubbing until four o’clock in the morning. I didn’t want to be around a lot of drinking. It’s very cliquey in Cape Town. If you’re not a part of the ‘it’ crowd in the village, it’s difficult.” The “it” crowd is something many of us can relate to and are familiar with: people and events that center around sex and drinking/drugs first, with a lack of substance. Ironically, Jaques fell into a life of substance abuse and got hooked on “Party ‘n Play” in his thirties: “I quickly got trapped in its sticky web. There was no escape,” he said. “I lost everything financially (twice) and all my friendships and family connections dissolved. I tried many times to stop and failed. Three years and ten months ago I finally made a truthful decision that I didn’t want to do
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