Ash Wednesday

I told my father last week, haven’t heard from him since.  My father served in a world war, island hopped on islands outside of Japan, raised all his children after his wife ran off, I am his youngest daughter, and with the passing of my baby brother, also the youngest child alive.  My father is a man I trust, who now is not speaking to me.  Maybe it will just take time.  Maybe it is a lot to gather about in ones’ mind.  Maybe like Van Morrison said “just because you haven’t heard from me, only means I didn’t call”   But, it hurts. All the same reasons that I trust my Dad are the same reasons that it hurts. To be reduced to two sets of numbers and three letters as a label is awful, devastatingly lonely, painful and hurtful.  I am not feeling well today.. feelings are not facts, but there are very few things these days that are making life a better place.  Dealing with people is ridiculous, no one can deal with the fact that a disease does not define a person. Suddenly the population has a judgmental view  of a person.  How I got HIV should not matter as to who I am, should it?  I do not believe there is a better day coming from all this. Maybe in generations to come, when younger people grow up with the knowledge that people are people, it might make it better but, in my life time – I am not sure.  The stigma is unbelievable – old friends afraid to have me over, as if giving me a hug would infect them.  It is amazing that that which is most needed is so unattainable now.. I could use a hug… and a call from my Dad.. maybe tomorrow..


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