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Healing the loss of the heart is a mighty feat of human spirit. For some it is a slow process; for others an impossible one. But as long as the species bond with such fervor and faith, the passage for the living over the passing of the dead is one of time - measured time and careful memorial.

Dean was slow to recover; but he was fortunate in his support. The Kielers were needed and needing; therefore they melted together for comfort and recovery. Viv was even on hand to help her son. It was not a gentle pat or a hug. Since Matt was fond of Viv, her careless words and insensitivity were accepted as the best she could muster. Matt would have liked that. There was also the Hyacinth Foundation who counseled Dean. The Buddy service group was very supportive - a family quite equipped for such circumstances. Ginger and Leslie were always there.

Among the phenomena particular to AIDS memorial is the Names Project, a project memorializing the fallen with quilt panels to be displayed on appropriate occasions for mourning and awareness. Dean was persuaded to sew a quilt panel for Matt. It became a family project. They all gathered in Dean's apartment and with thread and needles crafted a loving memory from Matt's old clothes. Leslie and Ginger decided to sew a quilt panel for Russell as well, a wild pink and berry affair filled with flight and fancy.

Thus the healing for the loss of heart was mended with needle and shears. The quilt was a thing of love and shame - shame that there was not more awareness and support for AIDS patients to hasten the plague’s end.

A great unfurling of the 10,000 panels of the AIDS Quilt took place in Washington DC. It was laid out before the Washington Monument, as a great field of cotton and tears. Thousands came to walk the little lanes between panels and read and see and weep and remember. Mr. & Mrs. Kieler were asked to read names. During the great display, celebrities, politicians, community leaders, lovers, mothers, fathers and children read the names of the fallen. Mrs. Kieler was very nervous about this, as she was also asked to say a few supportive words at the end of her name reading. She prepared many things, but was still unsure what she would say as she stood near the microphone reading the last names in her list.

"Raymond Adams," she said. "James Wise, Kevin Marsters, Buddy Havran, Rob Frobier, Sgt Andy Andersen, Riccardo Sanchez, Rob Hackett, CD Smith, Steven Coates, Nicolas Allesandro, Jon Eriksen, Russell Hay and my son, Matthew Kieler."

There was a great pause as she viewed the crowd around the base of the monument. Mr. Kieler gave her support holding her arm tightly.

"When my husband and I were asked today to read a portion of the names, we were hesitant," she said her voice resounding across the field. "So many names, so many fallen - more fallen than all the wars we have fought. And yet, our government ignores this devastation, because they do not value the lives of our children. They think that because our children live their lives as they are, and because the higher ups do not approve of our children's life-ways, their natural, normal life-ways, it gives Washington a right to watch them die and not even shed a tear or even to bring themselves to say the word AIDS. This crop of death embarrasses them, because these angels like all angels are different from the Kings who rule this land. But I am embarrassed by that rule - their shame in letting this happen. Our fingers are sore from sewing their names on quilts.

"I loved my son and love him still. I am proud he lived his life as the man he was, living with another man, the love of his life. Their love was good - still is good. And because the dragons in the palaces of alabaster, who would not know the subject of love - or who have forgotten that this country was founded on the principles of freedom and good spirits, our children die and posterity is suppose to forget them.

"So, I am proud of my gay son - my brave, courageous son, who told me who he was and let me share in that great gift. Mothers do not shun your sons or deny that great gift. You never know how long you have to revel in it. I will revel in the great joy of his life for as long as I breathe. Thank you."

Her words were met with some applause, but mostly the silence befitting the somberness of prayer.

Dean walked the quilt with Viv, Mary, Leslie and Ginger following him.

"So many," said Viv grabbing a Kleenex from one of the many boxes spread out over the field. "I didn't know that there were so many . . . How can it be? How could we let this happen? This isn't war you know? These are babies - kids - happy kids!"

She left. She could not walk the walk anymore.

"Yes, so many," said Dean. "But here is the one that mattered most to me."

They stopped before Matt's panel and viewed it as if they were visitors at a gallery.

"It came out good," said Dean.

"Very good," said Ginger.

"Very novel," said Leslie. "I love the way you spelled his name out in his old ties."

"Except for that last tie there," said Ginger. "I've seen that one before."

"It is a shocking purple color, isn't it?" said Mary.

"Yes," said Dean. "It was a gift for a special friend. We always kidded about it. He hated the color. You don't know how many times it went in the old clothes heap. It always got retrieved. I always managed to hold onto it."

"What a symbot for love," said Mary.

"But it's a symbol of shame, you know," he said. "My shame."

"How can you say that, Dean dear?" asked Ginger. "You cared for him with love and, I know I don't think I could have survived it."

"No, I mean," said Dean, "I mean, I did everything I could, but I did it in silence. If I had just been more vocal about things . . ."

"He would still be gone, hon," said Ginger.

"I know. But I ask myself, did I do enough. Was I too silent? You know what silence equals?"

"Act Up!" said Leslie. "That's the lunatic fringe! You know they disrupted a Catholic mass!"

"That doesn't matter," said Dean.

"We need to be respectful of other people's beliefs," said Leslie.

"But to the point that we can stand by and let people revel in our death as a satisfaction to some misquoted biblical passage?"

"We know you must feel anger, dear," said Ginger.

"Anger?" said Dean. "I'm madder than hell that I had to sew this quilt panel for a fallen angel - my fallen angel. And as for Act Up! They are doing something, while the rest of us sit on our asses and sew! But it is a lovely quilt panel. It's a shame token, but also one of love. And I haven't finished it yet."

"What do you mean?" said Leslie. "I thought . . . "

"Nope," said Dean. "My dears - there's one last act. Call me a drama queen, but there’s one more thing to do."

He took wedding rings from his pocket.

"Our wedding rings," he said.

He produced a needle and thread from the other pocket. By this time, Mr. & Mrs. Kieler joined them.

"Now," said Dean, "where to sew them. Where? Oh, I know."

Dean squatted and sewed the rings onto the quilt.

"Matt, dearest husband," he said as he sewed, "lover and closest friend, I am sewing these symbols of our eternal bond onto that ugly, ugly purple tie, so all the world knows forever, that Dean loves Matt."

He felt weak as he finished weeping afresh. Mrs. Kieler helped him up.

"That Dean loves Matt," he said. "And that is the vigil I kept and will keep."

He was surrounded by those who loved him at the foot of Matt's old ties. All about were weeping and walking and pointing and praying. There was an occasional photo taken in this sea of panels and mortality; for although it was an ignorant bug that felled these cherished youths, it was another brand of ignorance that made the panels so many.

Finis.