' } else { echo ' My goodness, it is another World AIDS Day. This is among my least favorite days of the year.'; }
Don't misunderstand: I do not minimize the need for this day. It is vital to remind the world of the human cost of HIV and AIDS. We must remember those we have lost. We must thank the care providers and researchers who give so much time and effort to help those who have the disease. We must rededicate ourselves to this crucial effort. And as difficult as my experiences have been in reporting on the disease; in volunteering as a helper and "buddy"; in raising my voice as an activist; even in sitting at deathbeds, holding friends' hands and easing their way from this life to the next, I recognize the blessings and growth bestowed on me from having lived through them. Indeed, I am grateful for these experiences, for the many wonderful people whose life paths have intersected mine — and for the global effort to honor them. Still, I suspect I have been at this AIDS business for far too long. My first awareness of the disease came 20 years ago, and in the intervening two decades, I have suffered a lot of loss. As of Nov. 30, I have lost 121 acquaintances, friends, and loved ones to AIDS. Thinking of the happy memories I shared with these people — which I do often — gives me great joy. But on each World AIDS Day, I think of these people en masse, in a rolling line: Willie and Robbie and John and Leon and Steve and Connie and Carey and Vince and Audra and Andre and Bobby and Paul and Lorraine and Jamal and Rochelle and Joe and Colin and Walter and Mary Sue and on and on ... As you can imagine, it can be mind-numbing, and each year the process becomes increasingly brutal. My beloved grandfather, who died from cancer three years ago, once said to me during a time when a lot of his 70- and 80-year-old friends were dying that I had undergone too much loss for someone so young. I was just over 30 then and agreed. Now, I am 42 and more fatalistic: Death is part of life. Whatever your age, you deal with it and go on. I can do that. But it doesn't make the grief disappear, though, and the pain intensifies as the years roll by. Spread the word 
 Article Author: Natalie DavisNatalie Davis is an award-winning journalist, progressive- and GLBT-issues activist, musician and broadcaster. Davis' All Facts and Opinions - The Armchair Activist has existed since 1996. She is general manager and program/music director of Grateful …
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