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I wanted to experience death

It's a selfish reason to volunteer, but I did have a litany of other motivations.

For one, I hold firmly to my ethic of caring for and about those less fortunate, the sick, the marginalized; but my end goal is social justice and leveling our society to an equal playing field. Another motivation was to introduce myself to a world that I had not yet experienced. Until I pulled my car up to John's house (by request, not his real name) and introduced myself, I'd never personally known someone living with HIV.

I also wanted to take a stand and actively do my small part to protest the influence my church had in passing Amendment 3, making both same-sex marriage and civil unions unconstitutional in the state of Utah. The face of HIV/AIDS on a global scale is incredibly diverse, but in Salt Lake City the community tends to be gay males. The remedy to my church's disappointing and hurtful policies regarding homosexuality is not quite delivering hot meals to home-bound end-stage HIV patients living in Salt Lake; but it was something constructive, something positive, something compassionate that I could do for a community that is wrongly marginalized (even feared) by many members of my faith.

And yes, I also wanted to experience death. It sounds disrespectful, but it's quite the opposite. It was a spiritual and a reverent experience for me. I've only experienced one death in my family, my dad's father. My great-grandmother died when I was too young to process the event and so Otto is the first death to significantly impact me. As is standard operating procedure when emotions are encountered, my family never discussed it. It was abrupt and it was a wholly unsatisfying way to close my relationship with him. I couldn't remedy that specifically but I could face death in general.

Every other Tuesday for nearly three years, as I visited the homes of my friends about to leave this world, I did just that.

ISBN ### Wage Peace

Choose the Left. The New CTR.