by Paul Kawata - Special to the SGN

The first time Cleve Jones shared with me his vision for making memorial quilts, I said to him, 'I don't think that's a very good idea.'

I'm thankful that Cleve didn't listen to me, because his quilts turned into the Names Project, a powerful memorial for our epidemic. The AIDS Memorial Quilt became a symbol of our movement's collective grief. It brought us together to celebrate and remember our friends and family members who left us way too soon.

In 1987, the Quilt was unfolded on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., for the first time. My staff and I volunteered to be on an unfolding team. We had no idea what to expect. Volunteers were required to attend a training session to learn how to unfold the Quilt. At the time, I wondered what the hell I needed to learn about unfolding fabric. As I experienced the training, I came to understand the huge responsibility the Names Project felt for these panels. They were more then fabric - the panels were a representation of our loved ones.

It was very cool the first morning we walked onto the mall. We were all dressed in white. Carefully and silently, we unfolded sections as we had been instructed. They had a specific way to unfold that reminded me of origami. As we flicked them up into the air, they blossomed like beautiful flowers. After all the panels were unfolded, we formed a circle around the Quilt and stood in silence as the names on the individual panels were read aloud.

Seeing all those names that first time was overwhelming. There was an eerie silence that was broken only by sobbing, as people stood over the panels of their loved ones and the names continued to be read in the background. There were so many names, and so many panels.

When I saw my friend Sally Fisher, one of the grief counselors, I broke down sobbing. It was just too much. Too much loss, too much anger, too much fear. I came to D.C. in 1985 to fight the epidemic. I promised my family that I would return soon. Two years later, we seemed no closer to the end, and more and more friends were dying.

Every time the Quilt came back to D.C., I would volunteer and read names. This summer it will be here for the last time. They tell me it's just too big. This final display of the Quilt is timed to coincide with the International AIDS Conference. Please stop by the mall and experience this important piece of our history, this memorial to our friends and family members, this extraordinary legacy of love and loss. Better yet, consider volunteering to be on an unfolding team. It's life-affirming and transformative. From my perspective, the best time to view the AIDS Memorial Quilt is first thing in the morning, as it's unfolded.

From July 21 to 25, 35,200 panels will be displayed on the National Mall - 8,800 different panels will rotate in and out every day. It's not cheap to bring it to D.C. Please make a donation at http://quilt2012.org, or purchase some of their merchandise. Typically executive directors don't try to raise money for other organizations, but that's how important this project is to me and to our movement.

I will be on the mall this July. If I am doing my 'ugly cry,' please stop and give me a hug. I miss so many friends - sometimes it's just too much to remember all the names. That's why it's so important to discuss the possibility of ending this epidemic. For as much as I honor and appreciate the Quilt, I look forward to the day when there are no new names to be read and no new panels to be made.

Paul Kawata is the executive director of the National Minority AIDS Council (www.nmac.org).

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