This day, the 21st of August 1992, we received the sad news of your passing. We all knew the day will come as each passing day you become more and more frail. You would be in and out of hospital sharing a room with other sick patients, everyone fighting for their life as doctors tried to find out what AIDS was.
When we came to visit you, we observed some patients sleeping on the floor because families could not afford beds for them or the hospital didn’t have enough beds. Those days were hard to witness. I still have visions of grown men crying in pain. I still have visions of you crying in pain in silence and singing “All to Jesus, I surrender.”
In the early 1990s. AIDS was not mentioned — they would call it TB. Watching you go through pain
everyday was heartbreaking. Most third-world countries had no access to medicine, then the only
thing they had was prayer and hope.
You lost your job as soon as they found out you had “that disease” as they called it. Oh, I remember how everything changed for us in a second. I remember how quickly gravity pulled us down. I also remember how you found strength to instill wisdom in me.
I am so grateful to have had you as a father.
1992 feels like only yesterday when you took you last breath to another journey. AIDS took you so quick, like the speed of light. I know you are not in pain and this gives me hope that all those amazing
people out there trying to find a cure of what took you so fast that one day will find a cure.
I advocate for you, my sister and many loved ones we have lost from this cruel disease. I continue to advocate for loved ones living with HIV/AIDS. I advocate to give strength to families and friends watching loved ones fight this battle. I am grateful to have found new friends at The AIDS Memorial that can feel this pain like I do.
Today, I sing our favourite songs. “All to Jesus, I surrender. Take my hand, Precious Lord, lead me
It doesn’t matter whether it has been weeks, months or years, the pain of losing you always pinches
me like lightning for a lifetime.
Dad, you fought a good battle.