The Angel

When news exploded about the decision of the SCOTUS to lift the ban on same-sex marriage across 50 states, I watched my newsfeed explode in the same manner--of rainbows and hashtags, and of dissent and outcry on the attack on traditional marriage and the breaking down of the moral fabric of the world. I read both sides of the argument of the judges who voted for and against the lifting of the ban and I marveled at the beauty of their arguments, the rhetoric and impassioned plea to a nation as divided as the judges themselves.

Whenever someone would ask me, I used to say I'll never do it, in a low growl that said, how can you even ask me that question? I used to think it was unnecessary, completely symbolic, and it makes a mockery of the real thing. I used to think I never needed it. Until the world, in a way, opened my eyes. It was last year, I remember. I read a news article about a man denied of seeing his life partner of more than 40 years in his last moments because they're not, in any way, related. Only family and bloodlines were allowed. He who spent all his waking and sleeping moments with the dying was barred because nothing in the law said they were related, not by blood nor by ring. There were several other stories I've read through the months. Of health benefits not being extended to a partner simply because they weren't married; of partners being denied lodging simply because both of them happened to be males; of the killings in African nations simply because of who they are....