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Sunday, December 31, 2000

I'm visiting my parents this week. It's interesting to say the least. All the people I remember as little kids and babies are now 18 or 19 years old, or married with kids of their own. I've only been away for 5 years, but it's amazing how much time has actually passed. I got married at 18 years old and moved out of my parents house. Since then I've had very little interaction/contact with my relatives. My cousins that I used to visit every week when I lived with my parents are now married and both are mothers. The third cousin was just a little kid when I got married, she is now in college. My nephews are both in High School, with the eldest one having a job, driver's license and a girl friend. I feel so out of synch here, like a time warp or something. I told my daughter today that I don't belong here, and it's true. I don't. I've always felt that I was on the outside looking in with my family, probably because I was adopted and I was never allowed to forget that. I wasn't "blood". Some "relatives" even refused to include me in family gatherings because of that. Interesting how the older Italians are about such things. My parents have gotten old. Which scares me. By my daughter has utterly amazed me. She has been very polite, friendly, and selfless since we arrived. She has helped my mother cook, clean up, talked nicely, laughed, and just been all around a perfectly well behaved, well mannered child and I can't tell you just how proud of her I am. I finally heard the words I've wanted to hear for those 7 long years of hell I went through with her from my parents, they said I've done an excellent job with her and that she turned out OK despite everything I did "wrong" as a mother. Sort of a half assed compliment, but from them that's the best I can get and surprisingly it meant alot to me to hear it. I wish they could have learned to compliment without the "but" there, but that's too much to ask I suppose.

All in all it's been a good visit though somehow hurtful for me. I look around the house I grew up in, and see the pictures of my relatives and realize just how far outside of their loop I am. No one sends me pictures, or letters, even when I send stuff to them. It's like I grew up, moved out, and now I don't exist, which I suppose is fine for them. I know this is the house I grew up in, but it isn't "home" for me. My home is with Ron, Kimmie and all the kids. I miss them so much it isn't funny. At least 20 times every hour I find myself wondering what they are up to, do they miss me, and wanting to go home. I find myself realizing that I am not only mortal,. but getting old. It's an eerie feeling. I told my parents about Ron, leaving out that we got married. yes I am a chicken shit. I don't want to deal with their negative reactions and lectures. At least not when I still have 6 days to stay with them, maybe I'll tell them on Friday, the day before I leave. We'll see. It's just been weird, and I'm having a very hard time sorting out my thoughts. I keep getting these moments of "insight" that are very surprising to me. Moments where I realize things about myself, my life, how things have changed, how much better my life is now, and so many other things. It's very disconcerting at times, joyful at times, and painful at times. Though I suppose that means this trip has been good for me and Sam, I don't know. Maybe tomorrow I will get a notebook (journal) and start writing some of my thoughts down. I can't use the computer much so that doesn't really help me since I can't vent on it like I want to. Also my parents tend to read over my shoulders, so I have to be careful what I say. It's been interesting.

I have had fun, I can't say that I haven't. We;ve had lots of talk and laughter and all that. Well I'm going to stop for now.

Sunday, December 24, 2000

It's almost Christmas, and I am finding it so hard to believe that so much time has passed already. It feels like I just got here yesterday, but it's been half a year already. Where did half a year go?? I used to think my mother was nuts when she told me time flies, because to me at that time (as a child) I felt time was the slowest thing in the world, but now it seems like it does fly by. My daughter tells me time is so slow, but I have to look at her and smile because some day she will realize like I have, that time does fly. People tend to get wrapped up in living their lives and paying attention to everything they stuff their life with to keep themselves busy, or have fun, or just relax. It sometimes feels like life is nothing more than moving from one activity to another, and then there are times where there are no activities to do, and time still flies. I guess it goes with getting old. Next month I will be 32, and for some reason 32 is seeming harder and harder to accept, whereas 30 and 31 were not a problem at all. I'm not a child anymore, yet I still feel like one. I guess that it is true that if one feels old, they truly are. Some days I feel ancient.

My daughter took the news of no prosecution alot better than I thought she would. I am very proud of her. She is quite happy that I have not cancelled our trip back to Mass. I figured the trip would be good for her and for me, especially since they dropped any hope of prosecuting the case. I know some will see this as proof that Dennis didn't do anything, but that isn't the case. Sometimes I wish it were the case, but I can't deny the medical evidence and physical evidence stacked against this man. Nor can I forget that there are two other children that he has molested, one of them having overhwelming medical evidence as well. There is no doubt in my mind that this pedophile did indeed rape his own child. But I guess I have finally gotten through to my daughter with my seemingly constant reminders that revenge is just not worth it. I just feel so guilty that my assurances that the District Attorney would do something as soon as she was ready, turned out to be false ones. I try real hard to remind myself that they mislead me by telling me constantly that they would prosecute if I brought her back to Mass for another interview. Oh well.

I am trying very hard to enjoy Christmas, and so far I'm succeeding fairly well. I'm a bit anxious for it to be morning already. I hope the kids like their presents, and the first one to say "He/she got more than me!" I'm going to happily slap silly! (can ya tell I hate that kind of whining?)

Anyway..Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone!

Thursday, December 21, 2000

WOW! I haven't blogged in a while. LOL Ohhh well, things have been rather busy around here with Christmas shopping, preparing for a trip home, kids concerts, reading, talking, and adjusting to the tick list Ron set up for me. It's been a very interesting and event filled month.

Earlier in the month I had spoken with the district attorney in Mass about interviewing my daughter again for possible prosecution of her father who molested her. The DA told me that if I got her up there, they would prosecute. They lied. They called me back today to tell me that no matter how well she does in the interview there is no way they will prosecute the case. They said they believe they have no chance of winning the case with a jury and thus they won't pursue. This crushed me, I was so upset. The hardest part was not crying on the phone with the lady, or losing my temper and tearing her a new asshole, which I desperately wanted to do. But I behaved myself, then I got off the phone and started crying, almost panicking. I wanted to scream, run, anything and everything. It hurt me so much to be told that basically this son of a bitch will get away with what he did to his daughter, and the hell we have lived with for the last 6 and a half years. That he gets to continue living accross the street from an elementary school, and remain free. He doesn't have to pay anything or in any way for the torture he put my daughter through. God but that hurts. I guess I had my hopes up higher than I realized. The worst part was calling Deb and telling her that they won't prosecute for Sam. I know she was hoping they would so Dennis would go to jail and thus pay for what he did to both of her sons. We all thought the case for Sam was so strong, which is what the DA told me and told her. In fact, they told Deb that if I brought Sam to Mass they would prosecute, that they were dying to get their hands on Sam's case because it would put Dennis in jail for up to 40 years with a conviction of Child Rape. They told her this a month ago! What the hell changed in that month? And why is it so fucking hard for the victims in these cases to get the justice they deserve? It just is not fair at all. Not for the kids, or their families who have to suffer through all of this shit for nothing. I felt horrible when I told Sam about it, but I knew that I had to tell Sam. She had to know. my prayers now are that she won't blame herself for them not prosecuting, that she won't think she did something wrong in the earlier interviews or in the past few years that made them unable to prosecute. So far, she doesn't seem to be feeling that way, but I will be keeping my eyes open just in case.

My thought on the decision not to prosecute is that the DA just doesn't want to put forth the effort that would be neccessary to get a conviction in the case. I believe this because of the constant insistence that the case is "too complicated". Well duh! Then I remember that they prosecuted Dennis for the boy who was molested at the same time my daughter was, and either kid could be a collaberating eye witness for the other. But the DA didn't call my daughter as a supporting witness, and the whole thing never went to trial as Dennis took a plea and admitted guilt. That case was literally done with no supporting evidence, with a child who was discussing abuse that took place 5 years before, and that he denied ever having taken place for those entire 5 years. That denial alone could have gotten Dennis a "not guilty" verdict, but they prosecuted anyway and won. But they won't take a case that has physical evidence, an eye witness, psychological evidence, and all that to court. It just doesn't make sense, it really doesn't. I don't understand, and I don't think it's fair. I'm just so fucking upset it isn't funny anymore.

I have decided that since I can't get the pedophile convicted for raping his own daughter, I will hurt him the only way I can, money. He has not paid me child support since 1996, and he is court ordered to pay 92.00 per week. So I have contacted the department of revenue child support enforcement in Massachusetts and will be receiving a packet that will put a file in their offices for Dennis as a dead beat Dad. I do know taht Mass will jail him and set his bail at the exact amount of the child support that he owes me, and he won't make bail until he pays the full amount. The DOR will include interest on this child support, but the basic amount is over 22 thousand dollars. So he will have to pay at least that much to get out of jail. And I will take the money, and use it to buy me a car and put a new roof on the house, two things that the family needs. After he pays the arrears he will then be stuck providing the DOR with 92 a week so they can send it to me. I will use the money to retain an attorney here in Florida and file for recovation of his parental rights based on non-support and child sexual abuse. At taht time, I will also file for a legal name change for Samantha since she no longer wants to be called by his name. She hates him. I know this kind of "pay back" is not exactly what I wanted, but the man should pay in some way for the damage he has done. But I am also so very tired of the whole thing and part of me just hopes he keels over and dies for no reason. That would be a great benefit to the world.

Saturday, December 09, 2000

I just finished a rather interesting book. It's called "Nora, Nora" by: Anne Rivers Siddons. During the first half of the book, I thought it was boring and colorless. With the second half of the book, I was able to see why it was like that. It is a coming of age story for a girl in 1961. But this girl carries the painful belief that she killed her mother by being born. For as long as she can remember, she has always been basically alone. No one was there emotionally for her, though people were there physically. Hence she learned to just kind of plod through life without seeing any of the joys in the basic day to day things all around her. So the first part of the book is written in that same emotional manner. It is devoid of most emotions, except for the occasional glimpses of Peyton's pain and how it affects her current actions, such as showing old home movies to herself in her tiny room at night and no one knows she is doing it. She does it as a way of "finding" her mother, and seeing her "family" for what it used to be, before she destroyed it by being born and killing her mother. Very sad. Then her cousin Nora arrives and things start to change. Slowly at first, then with more speed. Until eventually the book is going at a much faster pace, and the reader can't put it down, so badly do they want to read the end. At first I figured it would have the typical happy ending. Nora marries the widowed father and becomes Peyton's step mother. (they're distant cousins) Peyton passes her first real test of maturity, the speech for her graduation of grammer school before entering high school. (she's the valedictorian). Even when the "old town boy made good" shows up, and Nora falls for him (or seems to anyway), I still thought the end would be the typical fairy tale happy ending. I was pleasantly surprised. In many ways the ending made the book. With the way it ended, and the things said at the end, the whole book takes on so many different meanings, and shows a depth that was not visible on the surface. I find my mind running a mile a minute now, thinking of those things, and those depths, and the raw truth within them. I think the book was supposed to make the reader think, feel, and reflect upon themselves, their lives, and their own coming of age, of that awkward time when we are not children anymore, but are not yet young adults either. When we feel major changes are coming, and we both fear them, want to hide from them, and welcome them, crave them in the hopes that they will bring about bigger and better things. Only to find that when those changes come, they are not as obvious as we had thought they'd be. Instead they are usually quiet, deeply fundamental changes made within the heart and mind of a person, not the exterior or conscious mind. The time in our lives when we begin to see beyond ourselves and our little slice of the world, where we first glimpse the big picture, and the vast possibilities spread out before us. Where we become almost drunk on the sensations this glimpse causes. Where we begin to believe that we will become adults, and thus have an impact upon the world, even if it is only in a tiny way. That impact is caused by our interactions with other people. How we treat them, and whether or not we can truly love one another.

At the end of the book, when Nora is gone, Peyton is laying in her bed being cuddled by her father while she cries for a real long time. Finally the sobbing stops and they talk to one another. At one point the father says "Nobody's safe Peyton, and nobody's free. There's only somewhere between safe and free, and what people are. The only thing we can ever be is just human, and that ends up breaking our hearts. We all try so hard to be strong, or free, or safe, or whatever it is we think we need the most...and in the end, al we can ever be is just us. And it's enough because it has to be. There's not anything else." (p. 262, hardback) Those words touched me, and ring true within me. People are just people. People are always searching for something outside of what they are right now. Something that they consider to be important, and they believe that when they finally get what they are seeking, they will be fulfilled and everything will be wonderful. In this search, we often overlook what we have now, and just how good it actually is. When we do that, we can't find what we seek. What most people seek to find, already exists within them, if they dare to look for it there. I keep thinking that in some ways people are too focused on things outside of themselves as being their satisfaction, when it is what is within them, and what people can give to one another, that will bring not only deep satisfaction, but lasting contentment. Satisfaction is a momentary thing, it can be easily removed by doubt or fear, but contentment lasts longer and though it may be overshadowed by the current stressful situation or crises, or current situation that needs our full attention, it can't be erased. When someone is content with the fundamental structure of who they are, though they may still seek to improve themselves and embrace growth and change within themselves, that contentment is always there and lends the search for improvement a stability that is lacking for those who seek simple satisfaction.

Another passage, said just two lines after the one I quoted above is: " Well, this is what we do. We try to give what little we have to somebody who hasn't got it, and maybe they try to give us back some of what they have, that we haven't got. That's what love is. That's all it is." In many ways I think these are also very true words. Love is a give and take, where each person gives to the other something they need to be complete. Within BDSM, this is exactly how the symbiotic relationship of domination and submission works. The sub and the dom each give to the other, sometimes without even realizing it, the opposite that is needed to complete and balance the whole. With this give and take, comes the love. Maybe people really were put on this earth to love one another to the best of their abilities. No one really knows why we are here. So I guess everyone has to come up with his or her own answer, even if the answer changes over time. And I think the answer does change over time, and with situation. With maturity comes a calmer view of life, one that tends to include such things as this give and take of love as being a major part of the meaning to our lives. With certain experiences comes the ability to see this give and take, and even the symbiosis that can often exist without our conscious thought. There are times when people will automatically give of themselves something that another person needs at that time in their lives. When with someone we care about a lot, and the person is sad or depressed, we may instinctively know they need a hug, or someone to listen to them, or a shoulder to cry on. And we give that to them. In that way, we are providing something they need, but are lacking, with something we have and can thus provide; in that way we show love and caring. We show humanity. It isn’t the major things that matter, it’s these small things we give one another that matter the most. It is these small differences, that when brought together complete a whole, that bind us tightly to one another. It’s these little things that we overlook as we rush about desperately seeking “ourselves”, never realizing that what we seek is already within us just waiting to be brought out. Sometimes this giving from one person to another, takes the form of bringing forth the hidden treasures within another person; so that they can find what they were searching for but had no idea where to look. For example when someone gives another person the means by which to find self-esteem, a sense of worth, or dignity. By teaching an uneducated person the things they need to hold a job that will support them. We aren’t giving them handouts; instead we are giving them the means by which they can help themselves, and thus teaching them skills for living. Something we have, and they are lacking. In the giving, we create a whole. We also get something back; the love.

Very in depth book, or maybe I’m over thinking it, but somehow I don’t think so. Nora was a free spirit, written as the type of person who flits from one thing to another, never settling down and staying in one place. Flitting into people’s lives, drawing them out of the shells they hide in, showing them the pleasures and joys found in their every day lives, then leaving quickly. She is made to seem flighty and uncaring; a user. But in the last few paragraphs, you learn she is not a user, nor is she flighty and uncaring. She is fear driven. She craves stability, and an anchor; a place to call home where she can feel safe and loved, no matter what. Yet, when those things are offered to her, she doesn’t know what to do with them, so she runs away. Peyton’s father speaks of her as a butterfly in flight. She flew into their lives, opening their eyes to the joys around them both between father and daughter, and in life itself. Peyton had said she hated Nora, to which her father replied: “Well, you’d just as soon hate a butterfly. We didn’t give one single thought to what she might need. We just climbed up on her wings. We loved it there; it was a wonderful ride. And she tried to hold us up, but we were too heavy. Finally she had to drop us and go. All the time she wanted an anchor, a place to light, and we were too busy riding her wings to see that.” With these words you see that the selfish ones here, the ones who took but did not give in return, least not in the sense of giving what they had that Nora did not, were Peyton and her father. Though considering their great pain and separation from one another, this is understandable. This seems to be the way many people are; take what they need from whoever is offering it, without considering that what they are giving in return might be something the person does not need nor truly desire, or that what they are giving in return is not what they believe it to be. I don’t think it’s from any inherent selfishness, as I think it’s from the way life has become. Life has sped up dramatically from the way it was 75 years ago. Everything is more power, move faster, and get it done quicker. We do not take the time, often enough, to seriously consider what we are doing with one another and how we are affecting the people around us. People have gotten away from truly interacting with one another, and moved in to interacting with others for what they can give you, not what the interaction can give both of you. There is an awful lot of taking going on, but not a lot of giving.

The other thing that struck a deep chord in me was when the author was explaining a discovery Peyton had about herself. When she gets named valedictorian and asked to give a speech at the graduation, Nora gives Peyton a lot of support and encouragement. From that Peyton starts writing. While she does so, she finds she can view the world in two ways. One way is with the eyes she was born with, and the other is with a pair of internal eyes. Those internal eyes view the world and everything in it with more emotion, impact, and in the terms of this has to be written about. Through writing this speech, Peyton discovers that she has the gift of not only words, but also the sight necessary to give her words life, make them reach the emotions of the people reading them. Make them literally come to life upon the paper, and be more real. This was something I understood because I have often viewed things in more than one way, same as Peyton. I never really thought of it as a “gift”, but I can see how it very well might be. For me, it’s called “being bitten by the writing bug”. It is at those times when my vision broadens, and even the mundane things I see frequently, are imbued with a new life. A whole new level of meaning, intention, purpose, and feeling becomes visible in those simple every day occurrences, acts, and objects. Reading a story to my son is no longer just a chore to get through, or a pleasant interlude that passes before it can truly be enjoyed; instead it becomes a ritual of bonding, a means of passing on to my son a love of words and reading, a love of exploration of the world through books, a way of teaching my son not only the rudiments of our language, but of interactions between a parent and a child, of the give and take of love, the bonding necessary between two people, and to partake in his innocence and wonder at everything he sees. At those times, a walk around the block is no longer just a means of exercising to shut the doctors up, but a discovery of just how beautiful the earth is. How amazing the sunlight looks when it is reflected on the leaves of a tree, or the scent of the air around me, or the feel of wind on my skin. At those times, that walk becomes almost a religious experience, where all emotion is calmed and any anxieties are soothed, so I can just “be”, and enjoy “being”. It was very interesting to see that “writing bug” as I call it, explained in a book I was reading. I’ve read books where the characters are authors, but until now had not come across one where the urgency of writing, the need to get everything down on paper, and that sudden ability to see the bigger picture and capture it quickly before it gets away, are explained or even discussed. Stephen King’s book “Misery” brings up the “gotta” but it’s more of a “got to find out what happens next” kind of thing than a driving force demanding that what is being seen and experienced be written down for the writer to remember, learn from, and teach others with. That ability is indeed a rare one. And because of it’s rarity, I think it may very well be a gift. But I wonder now can this second set of eyes be something the person can use at will, and thus see the bigger picture when they want to, and not just whenever it occurs? Can it be used in such a way that the bearer of it can see more clearly, in order to write specifically for others to read? That’s an interesting thought. I suppose it could be because it is part of the person, and not an external thing taught by a teacher. People can harness their abilities and gifts so they can use them more completely within their every day lives, and to achieve the goals they set for themselves. If this ability is indeed a gift, and is indeed internal, then logically speaking it should be able to be harnessed and the bearer taught to use it like they do any other ability they may possess, like maybe the ability to dance very well, or the ability to understand math easily. The question now is, how? How to harness it, and learn to use it? I don’t have a clue, and I suppose if I did, I’d write a lot more often instead of waiting until the urgency becomes overwhelming to the point that I can’t sleep or eat until I write everything I need to and get it out of my system. That’s something I’ll just have to continue thinking about.

Friday, December 08, 2000

I have not blogged since Dec. 1.I can't really say why other than I haven't had a whole lot to say. I've been wanting to savor my feelings alone for the last few days, enjoy them privately before placing them out here for others to read. I've been feeling very good for the last week or so. Warm, happy, content, and all that. Those are very nice feelings to have. I am very happy to feel content again. It is truly wonderful to not have so much stress coming from everywhere everytime I turn around. I can relax and play ball with my son. Relax and talk with my daughter. Work on my writing, if I want to. Focus on cleaning the house and keeping it looking the way that makes Ron happiest and most comfortable. It is truly wonderful to be at peace in my life, and in my heart.

The doctor gave me a new medication for my back. It's called Neurontin. It is technically an anti epileptic medication, but it has been proven to be effective on neurological pain such as that caused by nerve damage. I've been taking it since Tuesday afternoon, and it has already made a great improvement in my pain level. The shooting pain down my left leg has dropped dramatically, the tingling, numbness and such have also dropped dramatically. I can wake up and roll over in the morning without crying out in pain, and without dragging my left leg with my hands. I am so happy with these results!! The only problem I have is I must take it with food or it upsets my tummy something feirce. But, I can live with that. I also have to increase my water intake quite a bit to help prevent water retention, and to help my body rid itself of the drug when it should. Most drugs are metabolized in the liver, this particular medication is metabolized in the kidneys, making water a neccessity to it's release from the body. I've been drinking alot of water but so far I don't feel like I am going to float away or anything, which is good too :)

I got up early yesterday and today because I needed the car and in order to get it, I have to drive Ron to work. I do not deal well with 6:00 o'clock in the morning. It took me a good 30 minutes to wake up today. I truly did not want to, but I needed the car. I have to take Sam to her appointment today, and it's too far to walk. Oh well, you do what you have to do. Though I do like the short period of time that I get alone with Ron on the ride to work and the ride home when I pick him up in the afternoon. He told me he likes it too. Ron and I got married on Monday. We are both extremely happy with it. I'm surprised that I got married again, I wonder if that makes me a hopeless romantic, or just a fool. Either way, it doesn't really matter what it makes me other than it makes me Ron's wife, which I truly enjoy being. I have a calm certainty that our relationship is solid enough to go for a long long time. A certainty I have not had before, not in this calm inner way. I do have some fear that I will screw things up, and I know that comes from the false belief I still seem to hold that I fuck everything up. I'm hoping that this fear will continue to fade with time, as it has been doing these past 6 months or so.

That's about it really. Guess I will blog later.

Friday, December 01, 2000


This is a picture of a panel from the AIDS Quilt. Today I searched some web sites about AIDS information to post on the Blogs page of my LnR web site so that I could provide information while participating in the day without weblogs. While doing this I found the site for the quilt. The day about weblogs requests that on December 1, people either do not blog or blog on the topic of AIDS rather than their usual topic. I had planned on blogging about my brother anyway, but this particular item which I found really surprised me. While searching the quilt web site, I found a section that allows a person to search the quilt for the names of AIDS victims. On a whim, I typed in my brother's name and up popped this picture with a list of all the people represented by this block. It is panel number 02663, and my brother is commemorated on it. I am guessing that the panel was created and submitted by Hospice At Mission Hill in Roxbury Mass by the panel that shows the T-shirt with the symbol for that Hospice house on it. I requested ayli to enlarge this graphic so I could see the embedded pictures more clearly because I could have sworn one of them was my brother, and sure enough, it was. I found myself near tears, and very emotional. My brother passed away on May 25, 1991 of AIDS. I remember when my mother first called me to tell me that Walter had AIDS. She was so shocked, and so very ashamed. She had always been embaressed by my brother's homosexuality, which would piss me off to no end. My brother was living in California at the time, and had known he had AIDS for 4 years. He could not afford the medications they had out at that time, they were far too expensive. My brother was in a hospital in California. AIDS had attacked his nervous system and he could no longer walk. He had to live in a wheel chair. All he wanted to do was come home to die. My mother at first did not want to bring him home, but eventually relented. My brother Bobby went out to California to get him, and we admitted him into the Hospice At Mission Hill. I remember having to speak with Walter's doctors to find out if he fit the criteria for the Hospice. The criteria was under 6 months to live. The doctor said my brother would definitely fit that criteria and would probably only last 3 months at the most. I honestly can't remember what month he returned to Mass in anymore, but I do remember he did not make it to 6 months, and died just shy of his 25th birthday.

It was a mixture of emotions that accompanied his return to Massachusetts. There was elation, fear, love, hate, anger, and so much more. He and I spent a great deal of time talking during his last few months. Though we never did settle our old ghosts, but I made the best peace with him that I could. Watching him die was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I remember sitting in the hospice talking with him, and talking with the other residents there. They were all very wonderful people. What amazed me the most was their lack of resentment. The workers of the Hospice were wonderful, loving, supportive people. They treated Walter and all the residents with the utmost of respect and always with obvious caring in everything they did or said. I remember one visit in particular. I had shocked Walter by bringing his neice in to see him. During his estrangement from the family, he had not heard that I had given birth. He did not expect to see Sam, yet I brought her in anyway. My parents were shocked that I would expose my daughter to possible infection by AIDS. I tried to assure them that the risk to her was very minor but they never did understand that. Walter was very happy to meet his neice, and he kept remarking how much she looked like me. I remember that he cried because I brought her in. It was a sweet, yet painful, visit. I visited every day with Walter. As did Bobby and my parents. I will give them credit for that, they did visit him. By the time he slipped into a coma during the last two weeks of his life, they started staying in the hospice's guest room to be with him. He did not want to die alone. I had started staying as often as I could. I went home early in the morning on the 25th of May to get a couple hours of sleep before coming back. I layed down for a short while and around 10 minutes to 6 that morning the phone rang. I knew before I picked it up what the person on the other end was going to tell me, and sure enough, Walter had died. I rushed back to the hospice. My mother was sitting on the couch, totally shell shocked. My father was with her. I went into the room where Walter still lay, and held his hand for a few moments. I remember that his body was still warm. All I could whisper was "May you be at peace now Walter". I cried. It was hard to believe that my brother was gone, but he was. This was a very complicated time for me, in many different ways.

AIDS kills people, though with the new drugs they have for it, HIV positive patients are living much healthier lives before contracting active AIDS. But there are still thousands for whom the drugs do no good. AIDS was once thought to affect only homosexual men, but that also is not true. AIDS can and will strike anyone. It is a deadly sexually transmitted disease, though it can be contracted through other means such as sharing drug needles with an infected person. AIDS is a very scary disease. For some it acts very quickly, for others it acts slowly even going into remission for a while before coming back and taking their lives. In this way it is similar to some cancers. It was not until a couple of years ago that I was finally able to forgive my brother for the many cruel and hurtful things he had done in his short life. I have managed to reconcile myself with that part of my past. This is the first year I have truly felt able to mourn his loss as a loss and not a relief. Walter had the potential to be a truly great man, andI like to believe that he would have become that great man had he been given the time. I wrote a poem about his passing, that was read at his funeral. I could not read it because by then I was a basket case, so a nurse from the Hospice read it for me. It contained the many things he had told me about how he felt about each of the members of our family. The forgiveness he had finally found both for them, and for himself. As well, the outlook he had managed to attain on life, and his sadness that this outlook came at the cost of losing his life. He remarked to me once that "Through the most painful times, come the greatest lessons." and he was right. So, this is for you Walter and the man you were inside. I love you.