The Quilt of Death: A Mess in the Middle
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Writing about my San Francisco days brings me to tears. It was such an intense time of fear with HIV/AIDS and the struggle for equality for the gay community - as they were called back in the late 80s. The more detailed identification of LGBTQ+ would come later. And I was a mess in the middle of it all. At the time I was still very Mormon. This meant that there was no wiggle room to their staunch belief that "gay" is a choice and a sin. Unknown to me on my wedding day, I married a gay man. It would launch me into a life changing experience of extreme pain that would last for decades. But for this story, I will focus on what it was like as a straight woman having a gay husband in the late 80s while living in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Keep in mind that this was a time of no internet. And I grew up in a community that fervently discouraged any reading or research outside of the sanctioned literature of the church. As an obedient Mormon woman, it wouldn't have even dawned on me to seek "outside" information on this or any other subject. Long story short, I was on my own. When my son was two weeks old, my husband dropped the bombshell that he "liked men." The only definition I could conjure up for the word "homosexual" was, "Men hiding in the dark, waiting to abduct children." To say that I was naive and misinformed was a gross understatement. Terror was the ruling emotion back then. What would happen to my husband, my son, my family? Notice I wasn't on that list - it was also a time when I had no voice or purpose other than to be a wife and a mother. What was I supposed to do about all of this? Confusion was a close second emotion that dominated my existence during those dark days.
In order for my then-husband to "find himself," he would go to the gay bars in The City (as we called San Francisco in those days). He would come home and tell me all about his explorations because as I heard him say many times, "I need your support!" And as a dutiful wife, I gave it at every turn. There are no words to describe what this scenario did to me on all levels of my being. Sufficeth it to say, it broke me. The healing journey from this experience was long and arduous.
But here's the part of the story I want to focus on today. In the early years of this journey - in an attempt to understand "gay" - I volunteered for the Contra County AIDS Task Force. I will forever be grateful to that organization and for those experiences which opened my eyes to humanity as it is, and not how I had been falsely taught. The people I met and the experiences I had were beautiful beyond words.
I also volunteered for the AIDS Memorial Quilt Project. If you have not heard of this amazing piece of history, look it up and read more as I will not do it justice here. The creator of this project, Cleve Jones, had lost so many friends to AIDS that in his devastation, he started making quilts to commemorate them. Many of those who passed from this devastating disease were not allowed to have funerals because of the stigma and because the funeral homes wouldn't prepare the bodies out of fear and misunderstanding.
He originally got the idea for the quilt during the candlelight vigil for George Moscone, the mayor of San Francisco and Harvey Milk, a member of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors (another important piece of history I strongly suggest you research). Both of these men were assassinated by a homophobe. To make up for the lack of memorial services and grave sites, each quilt was made 3 x 6 feet - the size of a coffin. They were made out of material that was designed and sewed by loved ones of the deceased. It was truly a sight to behold; to realize that each of those panels represented someone who had died. The Quilt Project is now considered the world's largest community arts project and memorialized the lives of over 85,000 Americans killed by AIDS. Seeing those panels displayed is something that I will remember as long as I live.
I heard Cleve say one day that because he was not the typical 'artistic gay man,' he had resorted to glue and staples during his first attempts to make panels. Regardless, what he birthed was a priceless legacy that helped so many people through that confusing, intense, and grieving time. I found him to be funny, compassionate, and kind. And one day he was stabbed in the back while walking home from the volunteer office by someone who hated gays. Fortunately, Cleve survived the attack. I grieved for him. And I grieved for another lost piece of my innocence that died that day. Suddenly, my husband's frequent visits to The City took on another layer of terror. I was then constantly afraid that he would be attacked and killed.
I had not thought about this story in awhile. At age 63, it fascinates me how a tragedy so encompassing can finally be healed and put to rest. But I shall never forget it. I shed tears today for those people, places, and events that changed my life forever. And I hold great compassion and admiration for that young woman who was a mess in the middle.
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Susan Fullmer is a conscious channel, shamanic practitioner, psychic medium, energy healer, energy reader, teacher, mentor, group facilitator, nurse, and licensed massage therapist. She has been in private practice since 1990 with her business, Intuitive Explorations with Susan Fullmer.
She draws from decades of study and practice in the healing arts including 35 years of nursing (both medical and mental health) and massage therapy (with extensive study in energy medicine). Susan has a plethora of experience in group facilitation, public speaking, mentorship, and teaching classes and workshops. In 2019 she graduated from Boise State University with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Multidisciplinary Studies with certificates in Leadership and Human Relations, and Dispute Resolution.
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