On the 8th anniversary of your death

Saturday, July 31, 2021

 Today is the 8th anniversary of your death. In some ways, it feels like I've been bearing this burden of grief forever - it's part of my life, and carrying it is my "normal," whatever the hell that means. 

But in other ways, it feels like I learned the news of your death just yesterday, and my grief is still a raw, blistering thing that lays upon my heart like an anvil. 

I'm doing better this year than last, since last year was simply unbearable for a variety of reasons. But it always hurts, and will continue to hurt, for the rest of my life. As the analogy goes, grief comes in waves. Sometimes I can catch it and ride it to shore, and other times it wipes me out, leaving me tumbling through the sea like a piece of flotsam during a storm. 

Regardless of whether it's a terrible year or a bearable year, I will always, always love you, each and every day of my life. I will always, always honor your life and work to make the world a better place in your name. I love you, baby girl. 

________


July 31, 2013 was the worst day of my life. It was the worst day of my life because that was the day the Police Department came to our home to tell us our precious daughter Moe had died of suicide at the age of 22. 

Moe died of uncontrolled mental illness. She experienced severe depression, and was under a doctor's care for her condition. But we lost her anyway, leaving a Moe-shaped hole in my heart that nothing will ever be able to fill. 

Every day I mourn her loss in this world, and I would give everything to have her here with us again. But I can't do that, so instead I choose to perform service projects in her memory such as being a good ally to the LGBTQ+ community, and donating money to institutions she cared about, like our local library foundation. 

And I also support AFSP's mission in helping people who are at risk overcome their lack of hope and help those who have been affected by suicide. 

This is the fifth year I've been up to participating in this event personally, but this will be the eighth year the Maureen's Marchers team is hitting the road in my baby girl's name on the annual Out of the Darkness Denver Metro Walk. The money raised in this event will go to fighting suicide and supporting AFSP's goal to reduce the suicide rate 20% by 2025. This goal is especially challenging in our current situation, where people are still feeling isolated, anxious and uncertain of what the future will bring. 

The danger of suicide is especially high within the LGBTQ+ community. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, suicide is the second leading cause of death among youth aged 15 to 24 and the third leading cause of death among youth aged 10 to 14. Among youth who identify as sexual minorities, the likelihood of death by suicide has been estimated to be two to seven times greater than the likelihood of death by suicide among heterosexual youth. These kids need help, and it's up to us to provide it in any way we can. 

Please help us honor our lost, beloved Moe-Moe and consider donating to the AFSP. All donations are 100% tax deductible and benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP), funding research, education, advocacy, and support for those affected by suicide. The AFSP is a Charity Navigator 4 star charity, and they spend 83.1% of their total budget on program expenses. 

"When you are sorrowful look again at your own heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." ~ Khalil Gibron

Thank you for your support!

So Exhausting

Thursday, July 29, 2021

 

Yesterday while reading the news, I discovered that the CDC has changed its guidance regarding masks due to a large uptick in COVID infections across the country. In areas where the Delta variant is running amok, they now recommend even vaccinated people where masks indoors where there are many people present. 

I also read that resentment of people who refuse to get vaccinated is growing - even among Republicans - as we continue to struggle to move past the pandemic.

Then I read this morning that even vaccinated people, i.e., yours truly, may be carrying a significant viral load of the Delta variant, even while asymptomatic. 

What this means to me is that I am now a danger to those around me who are not vaccinated. It means it's possible I've already had COVID, masquerading as summer allergies. It means I have a responsibility to society to prevent spreading this illness to those who either refuse to get vaccinated, or those who cannot get vaccinated.

And I have Feelings about this. 

Mostly I just find the whole thing exhausting. It was very easy to get out of the habit of masking up when going out in public, with the exception of air travel. It was a delight to start socializing with folks outside our "cell."* It was a pleasure to get back to the gym for strength training without having to wear a mask. And now we have to go back. 

I want to be clear about something - I am absolutely willing to go back to mask wearing for the sake of those among us who are immunocompromised, or can't take the vaccine for other medical reasons. As a member of, you know, humanity, I have an obligation to do so. It's a minor inconvenience, after all, and doing so costs me nothing and may save someone's life. Go, saving someone's life. 

But I have to admit that doing so for the sake of the knuckleheads who refuse to get vaccinated because "freedom" or "you can't make me, neener-neener-neener" or "it's all a radical liberal plot" sticks in my craw just a little. 

I absolutely believe in agency when it comes to health and safety. You want to ride your motorcycle down the interstate at 100mph without a helmet? Fine. There's a reason ER personnel call such folks "organ donors," but whatever - it's your noggin. You want to forego a seatbelt because in 1 out of a 1,000 accidents being thrown from the car results in the person not dying? You do you, boo. Clearly you flunked statistics, but again - whatevs. 

But vaccination is different. An individual's decision not to get vaccinated does not affect just them. It affects all of us, in every community. It decreases herd immunity. It puts stress on our health care system. It increases the probability of folks who cannot be vaccinated getting sick and dying. It puts the burden of the health of the willfully unvaccinated on the shoulders of those who committed to the idea of the common good and herd immunity. And while I'm having some trouble mustering up sympathy for new COVID cases among the willfully unvaccinated, those who cannot get vaccines should not be subjected to additional risk because I (or anyone else, for that matter) refuses to wear a mask because they don't understand science, or "freedom," or they get their medical advice from unqualified, partisan politicians, or they just don't give a shit about anyone else as long as they're not inconvenienced. 

I don't believe vaccines should be mandated on a public level.** Such an edict would contradict my core values. But I do think the unvaccinated should be made to reduce their public life for the sake of public health. Don't want to be excluded from a cruise or an airplane or a public event? Then get vaccinated. Don't want to get vaccinated because you're a putz? Then restrict your public movements. 

It really is that simple for me. And I find the politicalization of vaccines and science to be disgusting, immoral, and shameful. 

You'll see me on the other side (of my mask, that is). 

________

*We only socialize with people who are 100% vaccinated. We still have high risk people in our lives, and even before the CDC changed its guidance, we were taking no chances with their health and well-being. If that offends you or hurts your feelings, sorry-not-sorry. 

**I'm a-okay with vaccine mandates for certain professions such as healthcare workers. As a veteran, I fully understand the need to give up some control of my medical care for the sake of the group, and while I understand such things may stick in the craw, it is my belief that doing so is a public good from a Kantian point of view.