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The Colorado air was taking on a definite chill as Monica walked along the path through the rows of markers. She slowed as she saw a small group standing near the grave that was her destination, and as she watched they laid a large wreath of flowers before the stone and then joined hands for a moment. No one said anything, at least not that she could hear, and Monica waited a respectful distance away while they observed their silent vigil. It only lasted a few minutes and then the half dozen women turned and headed back towards the parking area. As they passed her one of them, a pretty young woman with honey blond hair, smiled warmly and Monica gave her a hesitant nod in return.
 
She stopped before the grave and knelt to lay her own flowers there and then she removed her glove and reached out to touch the smooth, cold stone, her fingers tracing along the name, Alyssa Zamora.
 
"Hey, Alyssa," she said softly. "We got him; life without parole. I thought maybe it would help … but it doesn’t. You're still gone."
 
Her tears started as she slumped before the stone, her mind filled with so many regrets. All the things she should have said and done and hadn't, and worse, all the things she had said -- such horrible things.
 
"Oh God, how I wish we could have just one minute so I could tell you how sorry I am," Monica cried. "So I could hear you say you forgive me."
 
"I'm sure she does."
 
Monica turned at the sound of the voice and saw the same young woman that had smiled at her. She wiped the tears from her face and rose, turning to face the young woman.
 
"I'm sorry to intrude," the blonde said, "but you looked like maybe you could use some company. My name is Breegan Noland, but my friends call me Bree."
 
"I'm Monica Zamora. Alyssa was … my sister."
 
"I know, I remember you from the trial," Bree said.
 
Recognition dawned on Monica's face. "That's right, I remember seeing you. Did you know my sister?"
 
Bree nodded. "I do volunteer work for the Colorado GLBT Center; Alyssa was part of one of the therapy groups I conduct. I'm also with the Colorado Bureau of Investigations Major Crimes Unit, and I had a small part in building the case against her killer."
 
"Thank you for what you did for her," Monica said, shaking her head. "You probably knew her better than I did; I call her my sister now … but I never called her that while she was alive."
 
"Well, I just wanted to offer you this," Bree said, extending a small business card to Monica. "If you need anything, maybe just to talk, you can call me anytime. In fact if you'd like, we could get out of this wind and get something warm to drink right now."
 
"I think I'd like that a lot," Monica said. "Um, won't you're friends be waiting for you though?"
 
"I'll catch up with them later," Bree said. "Is that your cab waiting in the parking lot?" Monica nodded. "I've got my car, so why don't you send him on his way."
 
"I'll do that," Monica said.
 
*          *          *
 
"Um, do you carry a gun?" Monica asked as they settled down at a table in a small coffee house not far from the cemetery.
 
Bree laughed and nodded. "Yes, I do. That was a real adjustment for me. I'd only picked one up once before in my life, and I didn't know enough about them to realize I had to chamber a round before it would fire, so it ended up not doing me any good."
 
"You were actually trying to use it?" Monica asked. "Um, if you don't mind my asking, who were you trying to shoot?"
 
"I don't mind," Bree said, though she was no longer smiling. "I was trying to kill myself. I was a very mixed up kid in a bad situation, and that was the only way I could see to get out of it. It ended up getting taken away from me, I got beat up pretty bad and it was several years before I got out of that mess."
 
"God it must have been horrible," Monica said. "I mean we've only just met but you seem, well, very together; I can't imagine a woman like you being pushed to that."
 
"Well, I'd like to say my situation was unique, but unfortunately it isn't," Bree said. "It's also a very long and complicated story that we should probably save for another time."
 
"Yeah, I guess we came here to talk about me," Monica said as a waitress brought them their order. She took a sip of her chai tea and nodded appreciatively before continuing. "I was a real bitch to Alyssa; hell I never even called her that; I used Alex just to be mean."
 
Bree sampled her own mocha before saying, "I think you're being just a little hard on yourself, Monica. Many people, most of them in fact, just aren't equipped to deal with a loved one who comes out as transgender. Society has taught us that there are certain absolutes, and that gender is one of them. It's very difficult to cast off what we've been taught to think and believe; I know it was for me."
 
"Someone you love is transgendered?"
 
"You could say that," Bree told her, eyes twinkling. "I was born Brian Noland. My situation was a bit different; I was the one who couldn't believe that my family would accept me, so I never told them what I was struggling with. I left home when I was eighteen to transition on my own, and it nearly cost me my life."
 
"But they do accept you now?"
 
"Most of them," Bree said. "My parents are very loving and supportive, which is amazing after all the years of hell I put them through. That went a long way to helping them accept me when I came home though, and they've admitted they don't know how they would have acted if I'd told them from the start."
 
"I just … sometimes … a lot of the time … I feel like I killed her," Monica said, her voice breaking with emotion.
 
"You didn't," Bree said. "A vicious, bigoted animal did, and he'll never hurt anyone again."
 
"But if I had been supportive, if I'd just tried to understand, this might never have happened," Monica said.
 
"Or it might still have happened," Bree countered. "There are always 'might haves' in our lives, Monica; trust me, I know. There are things Alyssa might have done differently too, and if she had, she'd probably be here today."
 
"What do you mean?" Monica asked in a defensive tone.
 
"Part of what I do for the GLBT Center is council transwomen about safety," Bree said. "Monica, you were born female, and you grew up being told you had to be very careful, but most transwomen grew up male, and they didn't get those lessons drilled into them. With us there's a very large added layer of danger, especially for someone who's pre-op like Alyssa was. Dating is a perilous affair for any woman, but for a transwoman it's a minefield that can lead to death if you take one wrong step."
 
Bree took another sip of her mocha while Monica digested those words.
 
"I see what you're saying," Monica said. "Do you tell every man you meet that you're transsexual?"
 
"No, of course I don't," Bree said. "Things are a bit different for me; for one I'm post-op. I also don't date that much -- I have my own issues regarding sex -- and I also date both men and women when I do. I always tell a partner before things get intimate though, and usually before we even kiss for the first time." She grinned. "I have gotten surprised a couple of times though."
 
"I suppose being post-op there's no reason you ever have to tell," Monica said. "I mean I would have never guessed you were born male."
 
"No, there is," Bree told her. "I can't ever have children, Monica, and I still have to take hormones regularly. The important thing a TG woman needs to keep in mind is she has to maintain control; the secret we all share is something that will come out if we let someone close to us, and we have to make sure it does that at a time and place of our choosing, preferably someplace public, or at least with friends on hand in case it gets ugly. We can't afford to give anyone the opportunity to say they were so shocked by the truth that they snapped."
 
"If I hadn't cut her off, I could have told Alyssa that," Monica said. "I could have helped her so much … but I didn't."
 
"Yes, you could have," Bree said. "I can't lie to you about that, Monica, but you can't dwell on the past. The fact that we're sitting here now talking is proof enough that you've changed, and honestly, we need people like you."
 
"Need me? What can I do?"
 
"Never, ever forget your sister," Bree said. "Change happens slowly, painfully so, but it does happen. Every person we reach, every heart that changes, is one more step on the road to acceptance. We'll never get the whole world to accept us; there will always be those who just can't get past their own narrow mindedness, but we can change enough to make a difference."
 
She paused and reached into her purse, pulling out a flyer and passing it to Monica.
 

 

 
"Heart by heart, Monica," Bree said. "That's the only way anything will ever change."
 
"This is tonight," Monica noted as she turned the flyer over. The back had contact information for numerous transgender and GLBT groups.
 
"Yes, and since I'm one of the coordinators I really need to get over there," Bree said. "You're very welcome to join me."
 
"I'd like that," Monica said. "I don't have a candle though."
 
Bree smiled. "Not a problem; I've got a whole trunk full of them." Her expression sobered as she added, "We have a lot of names to remember this year."
 

*          *          *
 
Author's Note:
Since November 20th, 2008, there have been one-hundred-one transgender related murders, more than double the number from last year. Here in the United States there were eleven, down from eighteen, but worldwide there were ninety. Many are simply nameless victims, and it's likely they will remain that way.
 
But change is happening. This past year we have seen two landmark court cases. In Colorado in April, Allen Andrade was convicted of first degree murder and committing a bias-motivated, or hate crime, in the death of Angie Zapata, which was used as the inspiration for the case in this story. In August in New York, Dwight DeLee received twenty-five years after being convicted of manslaughter and a hate crime in the death of Lateisha Green. The New York verdict is far from what it should have been; the jury found, somehow, that DeLee didn't 'intend' to kill Lateisha when he shot her in a parked car, and so went with the less serious charge of manslaughter as opposed to second degree murder, but it is important to note that they did rule it a hate crime even though New York's statute does not include gender identity as a protected class.
 
There is still a long, long road ahead, and all we can do is try to educate people and reach them, Heart by Heart. And above all else, we must remember….
(Data from the  ­International Transgender Day of Remembrance web site.