Steven LaChance Blog

My father was a loving and accepting man. I watched him grow and evolve over the years—his beliefs shifting as he learned, as he listened, as life opened his eyes in new ways. He never clung to an idea simply because it was familiar. Instead, he allowed himself to question, to reconsider, to change.

When I came out to him at 29, he didn’t hesitate. He told me he loved me no matter what, and that nothing would change that. And nothing ever did. If anything, I watched his heart expand in ways I never expected. A few years later, he told me he wanted to hang a gay pride flag at his church. I was stunned—not because I doubted his love, but because I never imagined a man raised in rural Missouri, in a deeply traditional community, would take such a bold stand. It took a lot of talking to convince him that while his support meant the world to me, putting himself and his church at risk wasn’t necessary to prove it. The fact that he even considered it, though—that he wanted to make a statement of love so publicly—meant everything.

At 32, when I went through a painful breakup with my live-in boyfriend, my mother was the first person I called. I was heartbroken, convinced I would never find someone to truly love me in return. She listened, comforted me, and then said something that, looking back, was almost prophetic: “When the time and person are right, you’ll know.”

My parents were always there when I needed them. I realize now that my siblings never fully grasped the closeness I shared with them. They didn’t know just how much my parents understood about my life. Our relationships were simply different. Being the gay son somehow brought me closer to them, and communication between us was easier than it ever seemed to be with my brothers. There was no unfinished business, no things left unsaid.

That was true even at the end. My father passed away in 2023. My mother, now battling Alzheimer’s, is slowly slipping away. Conversations aren’t what they used to be, but even now, in fleeting moments of clarity, I still see glimpses of the love that shaped me.

And when my husband, Rick, stepped into the picture, they accepted him without hesitation. They didn’t just tolerate him or see him as my partner—they loved him as their own son. On our first wedding anniversary, my mother told me that marrying him was the best decision I had ever made. She loved seeing me happy. She didn’t say it outright, but I knew she was thinking back to the conversation we’d had years earlier, when I was heartbroken and lost.

I have been incredibly lucky to have my parents in my life. They are and always will be my heroes. That will never change. The more I’ve learned about their lives—their struggles, their sacrifices—the more I’ve understood them, the more I’ve respected them. Some people hold resentment toward their parents, struggling to comprehend the choices they made. I’ve never felt that way. The more I’ve put myself in their shoes, the more I’ve seen just how much they did for me.

Through the good times and the bad, their love has been steady, unwavering, and transformative. It has shaped me into the person I am today—someone they could be proud to call their son.

And for that, I am forever grateful.