A Family of Four Men

A Family of Four Men: The Story Behind a Bittersweet Photograph

There are some photos that say more than words ever could. This one, taken at a cousin’s bat mitzvah in Hamilton, Ontario, is one of them. It captures me alongside three of the most important people in my life—my late father, my late brother Jay, and my late partner Charlie. Together, we were a family of four men. Not traditional by some standards, but deeply connected in love, spirit, and meaning.

My father stood beside us, dressed up, composed—but if you looked closely, you’d see the weight in his eyes. My mother had just passed away. He was in mourning, and being at a family gathering was the last thing he wanted. Still, he came. He had never been one to mask his emotions. That forced smile—well-intentioned as it was—could never fully hide the ache in his heart. And that’s what makes this image so powerful. It’s real. It’s raw. It shows a man trying to stand tall in the storm.

Charlie and I are in this photo too, side by side. Outwardly, we’re smiling, dressed for the occasion, doing what couples do at family functions—being present. But we were quietly struggling. We had recently agreed to shift the direction of our relationship. The love between us never wavered, but we recognized that we were too intertwined, too codependent. We needed to give each other breathing space while honoring the bond we shared. It was one of the most adult, loving, and difficult decisions we ever made. So, when I look at our faces in the picture, I see a quiet strength. We showed up, for the family, and for each other—even in transition. That was the kind of love Charlie and I had.

Then there’s Jay—my brother, my friend, my fellow dreamer. This was taken shortly before he was diagnosed with bladder cancer. And true to form, he arrived as himself: dressed up just enough to meet family expectations, but with his signature docksiders and no socks. Jay hated shoes and rules, and nothing—not even a bat mitzvah—could change that.

Jay was vibrant. A rebel in the best sense. And though none of us knew what was coming, I now look back and see a man living freely in that moment—without apologies, just authenticity. When I look at this photograph today, I don’t just see four men. I see a family of four men—each of us navigating grief, love, change, or illness. Each of us connected in ways that still echo through my life.

All three of them—my father, my brother Jay, and Charlie—are gone now. Taken too early. I feel their absence every day. But this photograph brings them back, if only for a moment. I miss them more than words allow. But I carry them with me—in stories, in songs, in laughter, and in love.

Because families, especially a family of four men like ours, aren’t defined by rules. They’re defined by the people who show up. Who love. Who stay. Even when life changes everything.

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