525,600 minutes

I watched the movie Rent today. It made me miss the guys from my old support group that have died. In fact, they all died, at least the ones I was close to -- dean (never capped), Tim, Jim, Richard...

I suspect my feelings are akin to being the last living member of a family. Memories can be shared with others; but experiences can only really be shared with those that are in it with you. The time we spent in group sharing our hopes and fears about living with HIV where at times outweighed by the time spent in hospitals and at funerals.

I found out July 5, 1989 that I was HIV+; I joined the support group that fall. On May 18, 1990, we experienced the first death in our group. I noted 7 deaths in 1991 and 7 again in 1992; there were probably more. Those were the bad years. On August 29, 1993, dean died; that was the hardest. On June 26, 1996, it was Tim, my last connection to our group.

I am blessed with tremendous support from family and friends. But, when there's positive medical news or negative rantings like those of Reverend Wright's -- there's no one to call that experiences the highs and lows of living with HIV. I take comfort in knowing they are together in a better place, pain-free, and I will see them again. My love to all. La vie boheme.