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Joe Mirabella has given us permission to re-post this story. I think anyone working in the trenches for human rights will appreciate it. I think of my own late mom often these days – a registered nurse who started the first AIDS testing and support network in her region early in the epidemic, a time when people were refusing medical care and kinship to HIV+ people. She would have been 75 last month. Reading this, I know she and Whidbey’s mom were kindred spirits. Let’s carry the torch forward and honor these amazing women.
Whidbey left the following comment on my blog yesterday:Posted by Whidbey at 10/27/09 8:46 a.m.My 73 year old mother, voted for R71 last week as she lay in her hospice bed. She wanted to make sure that if she did not live till election day, that her vote would be registered in favor. Last night, at 5:05 pm, she died peacefully. Her R71 ballot was the last document that she attached her signature to.
There are hardly words to express how touching this story is. It immediately brought tears to my eyes. As so many of us are working around the clock to make sure referendum 71 is approved, this moment gives us pause. It reminds us why we are doing what we do. Whidbey’s mom did not live long enough to see a world where all people are treated equally, but as part of her legacy she wanted to use her last moments of energy towards that goal.
I thought of my Grandmother, who passed away in 2008 when I saw Whidbey’s comment. She developed Alzheimers just as I came out. She met my partner and I remember her asking once when he left the room to use the bathroom, “he is special to you, isn’t he?”
I replied, “yes he means a lot to me, and I hope to spend the rest of my life with him.”
She said, “Well you deserve to. He is a wonderful person.” When he returned from the bathroom she had already forgotten the conversation. “Hi, I’m Helen. Have we met?”
Her birthday was in September, so I visited her grave to leave flowers. I meditated there for a moment and wondered what she would think of this fight. I wondered what she would say to comfort me the way she did when I was a child. She never hated anyone in her life, so her kindness and gentle attitude would have been a gift to us all. For a moment, I wished as people do at cemeteries, for a sign that she was watching. It started to rain.
As I drove away I thought, “I hope you are proud of me, because you meant the world to me.” The rain stopped and an enormous rainbow spanned across the sky appearing to land directly on my grandmother’s grave. In that moment my atheist tendencies were challenged. I felt loved.
It is important to take pause and think of all the people who love us. These campaigns are emotionally challenging for the LGBT community. On a daily basis we face our opponent’s attacks. They say we are less than human, deserve to go to hell, and in some cases they say we should be killed. And then after months of enduring the onslaught of anger, the entire state votes on our worthiness to society and whether we should have the simple right to care for our families in times of crisis. Nationally, our community always loses these races — reaffirming the anger that so violently attacks our psyche and our families.
Our country is evolving, though. I firmly believe that this year may be the year we make history by approving referendum 71 to keep the domestic partnership law. As our neighbors are voting on our right to care for our families, I am making the conscious choice to tune out our opponents hate and focus entirely on all the wonderful people who love our community. When times get rough, think of Whidbey’s mom. Feel her love. I don’t know who she is, or what the rest of her life was like, but I know she would be proud of us. I know she cared enough to use her name one last time for good. For that she will be immortal in my heart, as I am sure she will be for many of you.
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Joe my sympathy for your lossYour story made me cry
a story along the same linesIn 1996, due to circumstances that are too complicated to explain, I was far away from where I was registered to vote. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to get an absentee ballot in time, but luckily I found out that I could send my ballot request in via fax, so I got in just in time and filled it out and sent it in.
Shortly after the election, I found out that a friend of mine from my hometown, a photographer of some note, had died of AIDS. My mother sent me the local newspaper’s article about his death, and this passage jumped out at me:
“Just before he died, he demonstrated his characteristic strong will. With help of friends, he exercised his right to vote by absentee ballot in national and local elections despite being bed-bound.”
I will never forget that. Thanks to all of our friends who go the extra mile for us, and rest in peace, Whidbey’s mom.
A lesson for allEven before the question of whether electronic voting machines are rigged became a major annual concern, I would always vote early when able (Texas’ absentee rules were very open and flexible; Minnesota’s not so much). Invariably I’d be asked by several people, ‘Why?’
My response – again, long before Bush v. Gore – was, ‘This way, if I die before election day, then my opinion still counts.’
What still amazes me is the number of people who would turn up their noses at that reason – and often add some other insulting jab.
Yes, most of these are from the same group of people who dismiss those of us who actually analyze what politicians actually say – and compare it to what they do – as ‘cynical.’
Too bad.