Our memorial service tonight was beautiful. Gary Kovach spoke about the injustice of denying care to the poor and homeless; Emma Clare Hoffman talked about worrying whether she’ll ever be able to get insurance because she was treated for anxiety and depression.
Robbie Williams spoke about poor families and told the story of a single mother who can’t afford even the least expensive insurance policy, so she lives in fear that she or one of her children might get sick.
Then Byron Ballard came up and talked about witches (she is a Pagan priestess) being the ones who acted as midwives, helping bring new life into being, and as midwives who helped people out of life at the end. She talked about how unjust it is that mothers are having to “midwife” their children out of this life because they couldn’t get care in time to save them.
“The wealthy can afford the best care for their children, and if it isn’t available here, they’ll bring them to Durham or fly them to New York … because the care is there if you can afford it.”
She read a beautiful Celtic end-of-life prayer and I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place when she was done.
I thought I would be able to get through Mike’s story without crying because I so often do, but there was no getting around it tonight. I read the 23rd Psalm because it has always been God’s way of telling me all will be well because God is with me.
I told Mike’s story — about his recovery from addiction and his passion for helping others, about the lives he saved. I talked about his twisted sense of humor and how I ache with every beat of my heart because he’s gone.
Some people say what I’m doing is political, that I’m a socialist. Call it what you will, but I believe access to decent health care is a human right, and no mother should have to midwife her child out of this life and go on without him just because he couldn’t get the care he needed before it was too late.
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