My friend of operative history stopped in for coffee this morning and to look at how my remodelling is coming along. We sat in what was once a ball room, then my children's play room, then a rec room and now a sort of salon/lounge gathering place for my Lesbian friends.

Our conversation ranged from how the room was coming to politics to prop 8 and the protests and finally to the Day of Remembrance.

I asked hew if she honoured it in any way, given that she identified as a woman and a Lesbian primarily. She stunned me with her response.

“Yes, Maura, I do. I knew some of the dead. Some transitioned when I did and one was a colleague. And you know what, they get fortotten, forgotten by the gays, by the Lesbians, by the HRC, by everyone.”

Tears for the dead were rolling down her cheeks, and were quickly rolling down mine as well.

“And you know what, Maura? Next year I could be one of them. It may yet be me.”

I could go on, but her last coment upon the subject seems much more eloquent than any statement that I could make.