Showing posts with label sad things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sad things. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Maine... I Can't Believe You!

Epic fail in Maine yesterday. And across the country, as far as I'm concerned.

How can we continue to deny an entire population our rights as human beings, our ability to live freely and pursue happiness?

How can the Catholic Church throw MILLIONS of dollars into the hands of BIGOTS, when there are hungry who need to be fed and naked who need to be clothed? HOW CAN THIS BE?

What the HELL is going on in this world and why the HELL are gay people so scary??

Just because we want to be happy too?? Is that why we're scary??

Well a big F YOU to Maine and everyone who threw their money at the bigots and everyone who voted against equality, because gay people have money too, and we WON'T be spending it in your effing state. We'll go to Vermont, or Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New Hampshire, or Iowa, or Canada, where freedom rings and rings and rings and won't be silenced.

We WON'T be silenced. Last summer was the LAST time I paid a visit to Maine, the absolute LAST time. I'm never going back to Maine until EVERYONE is equal and until my rights are as important and valued as any heterosexual.

I'm so angry I could just about spit.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Live and Live and Live

Fight hate with love. Fight death with life.

I went to bed at 8:30 this morning and woke up at 1:30 this afternoon, almost positive that depression was setting in. I blame myself for his death in many ways. I don't have a magic cancer wand that I waved to get him sick, but I was little and a lot of it I didn't understand, didn't want to understand. I wasn't in the room when he died, but I felt it down the hall in the kitchen with my uncles, drinking beer and talking old times. "How's your father?" "Good, I said," and went back to his room. I felt him die in my heart between the kitchen and his hospital room.

I didn't understand that they wanted him to be cremated. I wanted him to be put in the ground with flowers and grass and a headstone that I could visit. I visit George in the winter now, this year will be two years, and I touch the frozen earth with my fingertips, the same fingertips that whisper sad notes from my violin. Cancer took two of the greatest men I ever knew.

I listened to the hum of the machines, the whirring and the silent salty tears that dropped onto the bed sheets and the carpet and the windowsill. Circle of Life came on the radio and then, by the son's end, he was gone.

I miss the jokes he used to tell more than anything, and the way he smelled when he hugged me, and the sound of his voice calling my name from across the yard.

I just want to live and live and live and never have to deal with the consequence of life. I want to love and love and love and never have to face the reality of hate.