I tried to bury the dream under the covers, but Dave’s young soft voice was persistent. It was in the early 90’s and I was a new hospice volunteer, and Dave was dying of AIDS. Several nights a week my routine was to volunteer at an inpatient hospice unit in the wee hours of the morning. I’d sit with Dave, sometimes read to him, sometimes just hold his hand, but mainly just listened. He’d talk about his family and how they wouldn’t touch him during their visits. Dave’s soft persistent forgiving voice reminded me of the courage it takes to love, when love is not reciprocated. Thanks Dave for sharing your courage and a few of your last moments in this life with a graduate student trying to understand life.
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