Today is World AIDS Day. I felt like I should do a small post in remembrance of those we have personally lost.
Mickey Diedra Rice Jones
Jerry Ray Jones
My oldest two share their names.
Those are my kids grandparents that they will never know. That is my in-laws I will never have. Those were my husbands parents.
Unfortunately they became sick with AIDS in the late 80's early 90's when the diagnosis was pretty much hopeless. People were scared. I was. I remember my mom taking food over to their house and me being scared to go in. I remember stories my husband has told about never telling anyone what was going on. When they did find out, they were scared of him, scared he had it too and would give it to them, from a touch, from a breath.
I wish I knew more about them. I don't want to remember them because of the way they died, but I do. I can not imagine looking at my children's face and knowing that soon, I would be leaving them.
I know that AIDS is rampant in third world countries. I know the technology and medicines we have now days could really change the statistics. I know that fear of condoms because of ancient beliefs helps AIDS to thrive. I wish I knew it would get better. I wish I knew there would be a cure. I wish I could pick up the phone and call my mother in law and talk about my husband. I wish his dad could take my kids camping. I wish...I wish....And I won't ever forget.