Dear Readers,
This is a short story that I shared with you last year on December 1st in remembrance of World AIDS Day. For those of you who I have just come to know within the past year, I want to tell you that this passage written by a mother who lost her son to AIDS had a PROFOUND impact on my life when I first read it several years ago. Reading it was not a cure all, but it got the ball rolling for significant change to occur in my life. (Reprinted with permission from the authors and Exodus International.)
In remembrance and thanksgiving,
Kevin
–
Mom, I Have AIDS
It was July 23, 1988 in room number 414 on the fourth floor of Century City Hospital in California. My husband, Bob, and I had rushed there from Washington because our son Scott’s temperature had hit 106 degrees. It seemed possible that he might be dying.
Then came the confession that changed our lives forever. “Mom and Dad,” Scott said, “I have AIDS. My doctors have given me nine to 24 months to live.”
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