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~~ MY "PERSONAL" AIDS MEMORIAL ~~

THE CHILDREN'S MEMORIALS ARE ON MY CHILDREN'S PAGE



MAY 21, 1998

Yet another friend died last night of this dreadful disease. And so, I begin yet, another four day fast in honour of her Spirit as it makes its way to the Spirit World.

It is at times like this, that I despise this disease. It can be so cruel.

My friend, whom I will call,"Jane", left three young children behind, two of whom have AIDS as well.

She had no family support. The man who infected her left as soon as he realized what lay ahead in his life. I guess he just couldn't cope. Jane never felt any animosity towards him for leaving. It is so sad, though, that she was left alone to deal with everything.

Her children were placed with an adoptive family, only last week. Jane was able to choose the family her children would be joining, and this helped her with her decision.

I managed to go to her only minutes before she died. I was able to say good bye to my friend, and to drum and sing for her as she took her last breathes. She died in my arms. I hope she felt safe. "Jane" was 28 years old.

"Jane's" death last night gave me the idea to do an AIDS Memorial on these pages, for my many friends who have died of AIDS-related illnesses.



PATRICK ~ 34 YEARS OLD ~
I met Patrick in NA during my first year of Recovery. He was a skinny, flamboyant gay man. He was pretty arrogant at times and had few friends.

In April, 1984, Patrick returned to our meeting rooms after being away for awhile. After the meeting that day, he approached me and asked if we could grab a coffee together alone, somewhere. He told me he needed to talk. It was over that cup of coffee, Patrick told me he had GRID (Gay Related Infectious Disease). He said he had only a little time left to live. He said he was frightened of dying alone. He asked me to be his buddy.

For a split second I recalled the many times he had irritated me with his sexist comments, then I looked into his big, bulgy blue eyes and saw the fear. He had nobody! His family had disowned him years before, when he came out to them as a gay male.

Patrick was afraid of death. I knew that regardless of who the person was, NOBODY deserved to die alone. I agreed to be his buddy.

Over the next few months, Patrick and I did everything together. I'd often pick him up and drive him out to the country that he loved. As he got sicker, I just carried him out to my car and then carried him back into his apt. after our trip. This was not a difficult feat as Patrick weighed under 80 lbs.

During this time, I got to know the "real" Patrick. I listened to his stories of abuse growing up, of him witnessing his parents fight daily, of how he stood by his lover, James, as he died of an unusual "cancer" we now know as AIDS. He allowed me to see his gentle side, his funny side, but most importantly, his true side.

Patrick died November 7, 1984. Not one of his family members attended his funeral, but the church was filled with his new found friends from NA, because they, too, grew to love Patrick during his last few months.

Patrick was my first friend to die of AIDS-related illness.

Little did I know when I walked this path with him, how many more friends I would lose to this disease, or that I would someday, be diagnosed myself. In dying, Patrick gave me a beautiful gift I shall forever cherish. Patrick taught me how to live!



PATRICE O'DONNELL ~ 38 YEARS OLD ~

Patrice and I met at Juvenile Detention Center in 1965 ~ both of us labelled as "Vagrants". We had run away from abusive homes. We would eventually end up in the same foster home and the same Residential School together. Patrice had turquoise coloured eyes!

When I discovered I was pregnant with my twins, Patrice and I sat amongst the rocks and trees at Scarborough Bluffs. She reached over and touched my belly and said, "let's never do drugs okay? Cuz they are so bad for babies!".

Patrice was one of the kindest, most giving women I have ever known.

Our moccasins took us in different directions, and I lost track of her for years. Later, I learned she died of AIDS related illness at Prison for Women in Kingston, Ontario. Her name is engraved on our beautiful AIDS Memorial in Toronto. I often go and sit there and speak with her.

Patrice's picture will be in my photo album on the web, as she was an AIDS Educator and starred in the video, "Talkin About AIDS!"



WENDI ALEXIS MODESTE ~"30 SOMETHING" (*S) ~

Wendi was the first HIV+ woman I met. She lived in Syracuse, NY, and I, in Rochester, NY. We were the same age, and tested positive around the same time.

We met over the phone, and eventually I moved to Syracuse, so that neither of us would feel so isolated.
Wendi was an African American woman, a loving daughter, sister, friend. We began a support group for HIV+ women together.

She was easy to love as a sister. She was a fighter in life, fought this disease to the bitter end.

Wendi's photo will also be in my photo album on the web, as she too, was an AIDS Educator.

Wendi received the "Woman of the Year" Award in Syracuse, NY, the year before she died.

Wendi, Sister, I love you and I miss you so much!



DONALD ~ 26 YEARS OLD ~

I met Donald when I was asked to go to Shawanaga First Nations Community, in 1993 to present an AIDS Awareness Workshop. My friend, Scott, and I went up there and spent two days working with that community, so that they could understand this disease that had now affected them.

Donnie passed on to the Spirit World about 6 months later, leaving his loving wife and two young daughter's behind, all of whom are HIV negative.

Shawanaga First Nation continues to be outspoken about their support for those of us living with HIV/AIDS - a true example for other Communities to follow. Gchi Miigwetch to that Community for opening their hearts and their minds.



JOEY B. ~ 26 YEARS OLD ~

Joey was a Mic Mac who attended a workshop I did in Thunder Bay. He'd lived most of his young life on the streets of Toronto, selling his body to buy the drugs he'd come to need, and eventually moving up to Thunder Bay.

Joey's family disowned him when he came out as a gay man, at a young age.

At the workshop, Joey shared that he would like to return home to his family for a visit, one last time before he died. During that workshop we passed the hat and raised enough money for him to do so. His family was not very receptive, however, when they saw him.

Joey was a real loveable guy, and loved our Sacred Ceremonies.

During the last six months of his life, Joey became an AIDS educator, as he was concerned about other youth becoming infected. His ability to speak to youth, made them sit back and listen. Unfortunately he just never got the help he needed to live a better life.

I returned to Thunder Bay a week before he died. It was a surprise visit. His skinny little body lay on his couch and his eyes lit up when I arrived with my friend, Melissa. He asked me to Smudge him, and then I picked up my drum and sang for him.

After his death, his family travelled to Thunder Bay to bring him back to his reserve for burial.





SCOTT VELEMA ~ 27 YEARS OLD ~

Scott was proud to be a gay Mohawk from Six Nations. He preferred the term, "Two Spirited". He and I worked together doing AIDS Awareness/Prevention Workshops on several First Nations Communities in Ontario.

Scott's family was very supportive of him and he often spoke highly of them.

Scott and I were honoured to represent Canada at an International Conference for People Living With AIDS, held in Acapulco, Mexico, in 1993.

I still feel Scott's presence when I am doing workshops, and miss him so much!



HENRY ~ 35 YEARS OLD ~

Henry was of the Cayuga Nation. He was married and had three children.

He was infected with HIV at the age of 32. Henry did not receive the support he needed from his community. He shot and killed himself.



STEVE ~ 37 YEARS OLD ~

Steve was a Sauteau man from western Canada. He was a Traditional drummer and dancer.

Steve's diagnosis came as a surprise to everyone, especially himself and his family.

His wife continues to be in denial over this. He and I had good talks together about this disease and the lack of support in our communities.

He came to a place of acceptance over his diagnosis before he died and his journey was a peaceful one for him. His young daughter misses him terribly.





RODNEY ~ 31 YEARS OLD ~

Rodney was a Cree man. He married an HIV+ woman three years before his death. They shared seven children amongst them.

Both, Rodney and his wife were AIDS Educators in our First Nations communities.

Rodney suffered many opportunistic infections before he died. His wife continues to be healthy.



ISAURA ~ 25 YEARS OLD ~

Isaura was a gentle, funny, spiritual, lesbian of Greek heritage.

I met her at an AIDS Conference about a year before she died.

Isaura's family was wonderfully supportive of her, and helped make her journey a peaceful one.

She left behind many friends who miss her a lot.



RACHEL ~ 32 YEARS OLD ~

Rachel was the single mother of four young children. She was infected with HIV by a man who knowingly spread this disease. He infected a number of women, but he died before he could be prosecuted.

She suffered a long time before dying. This was very hard for her children to witness.

Rachel's death helped other HIV+ mothers realize the importance of Living Wills, Powers of Attorneys, Pre-Death Adoption Planning, etc.

We miss you and love you, Rachel.





FAITH ~ 25 YEARS OLD ~
Faith was a woman of African American heritage. She was the single mother of a precious little girl, named Aisha.

Faith always looked like she stepped off the cover of a magazine....her beautiful hair was always braided so neatly. Her clothing was always of bright colours. Aisha loved to dress the same as her mom!

In the short time I had the honour of knowing them, of walking this path with them, I was deeply touched by the intense love between them.

Faith always told her friends that she "lived for Aisha". It was not unusual to see the two of them, strolling down the street, hand in hand, loudly singing songs. Faith had a lovely voice and could make even the most coldest of heart cry when she sang "Amazing Grace".

True to her word, Faith died a week after Aisha did. Aisha's story is on my Children's Page.

Sometimes when I am quiet......sometimes when I go to that inner space we know about........sometimes.......I think I hear Faith and Aisha singing to me.





TONY ~ 35 YEARS OLD ~

Tony was a gay Greek man who had not told any of his family that he was gay or that he had AIDS. He had only one relative in Canada - a blind nephew who he saw occasionally.

Tony and I lived together in a home in beautiful Riverside district of Toronto. We shared a huge house with others living with AIDS.

I returned home from a rez one day to find Tony dying in his room. He was sent to hospital and I went with him.

On his deathbed he shared with me that he was really frightened of dying....he said he didn't know how to do it. I held his hand and told him that he wasn't SUPPOSED to know how to do it cuz he had never died before. He laughed and took my hand in his. He told me that he always loved my sense of humour.

Realizing how frightened he really was, I told him that I thought that dying was much like learning how to ride a two wheeled bike. I asked him if he was scared then too. He looked at me with this strange expression in his eyes and said, "Yes, but what does that have to do with dying?" I said very seriously, "Well, Tony, remember how scary it was? You were sure you would fall off the bike. You had to take the chance and take one foot off the ground and put it on a pedal. Then you had to take the other foot off the ground and put that one on the other pedal. You had to let go!"

Tony's expression changed. He understood.

He was ready to let go. Within minutes he was riding his bike. Tony, I wish you many happy journeys wherever you are.



BOBBY PLUME ~ 35 YEARS OLD ~

Bobby and I met at PASAN (Prisoners with AIDS Support Action Network), an organization in Toronto. We were both peers and members of their Board of Directors.

We spent many hours together in those offices answering calls from prisoners throughout Turtle Island, offering them support, advocating on their behalf, being a friendly ear to hear their anger and their pain.

Both, Bobby and myself were ex-prisoners living with AIDS, and we could relate to the stories we heard. Although a large muscular man, Bobby was one of the most gentlest men I have ever known. He used to joke about his rap sheet being large enough to wallpaper his home. But in all honesty, he was one of few men who I felt safe with. Bobby had zero tolerance for violence against women or children. I used to tell him I loved him dearly, and trusted him totally.

Bobby was the only guy who dared call me "Babe"... and get away with it. I knew he did so out of total respect for me and not in any way sexist.

Bobby was a caucasian man who was outspoken about his rage in regards to racism. He had the utmost respect for, and from, First Nations peoples.

He did really well outside of prison for awhile. He managed to stay away from alcohol and drugs for about 6 months. This was a real struggle for him, but he kept himself busy helping others. One day after helping friends paint their home, Bobby decided to have one beer with them. He had forgotten that he never could stop at one beer. He found himself back in a jail cell that night...then back to prison, as he had violated his parole.

It was during that prison stint that Bobby got sick. He began losing weight... a balding, toothless skeleton within a year.

Bobbie and I had the same doctor and would often bump into each other at the clinic. At one point neither of us was doing so well. It was the middle of the winter, very cold and snowy outside. He looked so funny with his little woolen toque pulled down over his head. He asked if I had time for a coffee with him. As we were walking down the street on that cold winter day, arm in arm, canes in our other hand, barely holding each other up, we looked at each other and burst into laughter!

"Hey Babe!" he said," we look like Ma and Pa Kettle!"

It was soon after this that he realized he could no longer continue to live alone in his apt., and he moved into a home for men with AIDS. This home was run by some priests. I wasn't sure how he would cope. But Bobby loved those Brothers, and it wasn't long before he had them wrapped around his little finger.

He called one day and asked if I could make him a Dream Catcher for his room. A few days later, we went to his room and smudged it, and hung his new Dream Catcher. It was on this day that he gave me a braid of Sweetgrass which was given to him while he was in prison. He asked me to hang on to it for him. He made me promise to use that braid to smudge him as he was dying and to bury it with him. He asked me to drum and sing at his funeral.

Bobbie had come to a place of acceptance. He knew his death would soon come. I was not ready.

I received the call saying he was at Casey House, the local AIDS Hospice and that Bobby wanted to see me. I panicked. I had never been through those doors. I really don't understand where my fear came from because I had been around so much death, and I had accepted my own personal immortality. Still, Casey House terrified me. I went. I was so touched by the amount of love and care he received while there.

I visited Bobby as often as I could. At one point he looked at me and whispered, "Magnet." He felt the pull. I knew he would soon leave this earth plane. I hugged him to me and cried. I didn't want him to go, to leave me. He was my bro! This was one death I would not easily accept.

He slipped into coma the following day.

I brought his braid of Sweetgrass and I smudged his room. I sat by his bed and spoke to him, hoping that somewhere in there he could hear my words. I told him how special he had been to me, how much I truly loved him. I picked up my drum and I sang to him. I held his hand. I wiped the sweat from his face. I held him for a long, long time. Finally, I told him it was okay for him to leave...that I would miss him, but that it was okay for him to leave. I knew he was tired. He'd given it a good fight.

Early the next morning, Miko, my Timber Wolf woke me at 4 AM. I took her to the park but she wanted to return home. She went directly up to my picture of Bobby and nuzzled it with her nose. I looked at her and said, "NO! Not Bobby!" I phoned Casey House and was told they were just about to phone me. They told me that if I wanted to say goodbye I had better get there immediately. I was there in less than ten minutes. I walked through the door and instantly noticed the silence. It was so loud. There were no sounds of the oxygen tanks, there was no IV tubes. He lay there, looking very, very peaceful. I held him in my arms and I cried and I cried and I cried.

At his funeral, I picked up my drum and I sang Pura Fe's Lullabye, his favourite song. Never have I ever had such a difficult time getting through a song.

I continue to miss him. Tears flow from my eyes as I remember....the one guy who could call me "Babe" and get away with it.





TANYA ~ 30 YEARS OLD ~

Tanya was one of my clients when I was at PASAN. She was a woman of African/MicMac Ancestory. She was a real character!..and loved by all who knew her.

I met her while she was still incarcerated, and along with another woman from another agency, we were able to find her supportive housing upon her release.

While in jail, she did really well, but once on the outside, the drugs once again took over her life. Tanya never totally accepted the fact that she was HIV+. I always told her that if she took care of herself she might live forever....that I feared her drug addiction would kill her first. Her beautiful gentle heart was already damaged from previous drug use.

I managed to get her into a Detox centre at her request, but it was too late for Tanya.

She phoned me on March 1st. She sounded very different during that conversation. She spoke for the first time of the amount of oppression she'd known during her life. My gut told me I would not see her alive again.

Tanya was dead of a drug induced cardiac arrest six days later.

She left several young children behind.



JOHN ~ 30 YEARS OLD ~

John was another of my clients from PASAN. I first met him when he was out of jail. He became a client when he was incarcerated in the Thunder Bay Jail, about a year and a half after I met him. He was not doing well at that time, and he felt it was necessary to apologize to me for his part in something that happened at the time we met. When I visited him in jail, he was in severe pain, and the doctor at the jail would not give him any pain medication due to his addiction. John was transfered to another prison out west a few weeks later. He hung himself in prison.



ALAN ~ 33 YEARS OLD ~

Alan was another of my clients at PASAN. He was a gay, Greek man and in jail when I first met him. He was always so bubbly, gentle, polite, and wanted desperately to make changes when he got out of jail.

Upon his release from jail, Alan moved into my building. I couldn't believe the change in him! He had developed AIDS-related dimentia, and was a totally different person than the one I had known. He was constantly setting fires to his apt. without knowing. He was also suffering from wasting syndrome and fortunately for his sake, did not last long after that. He died in hospital.




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