the grave gavel and same sex marriage

Several years ago I worked in the States for a while. My wife's American but I still needed a worker's visa. But when I lost my job, there we were stuck with a house and van that we'd bought. Lisa and the kids booted it back to Canada to recover while I stayed down in the States to sell the house and van. Officially I was now there illegally. It was a very strange feeling being alive and well but somehow invalid. Existentially I felt both human and illegitimate through no fault of my own. Paranoia pervaded my breathing space. Put yourself in the shoes of those who love another person and want to officially and publicly promise to spend the rest of their lives in mutual trust, commitment and love as a normal human aspiration. But underneath it all is this vague or explicit claim that it is illegitimate and invalid through no fault of their own. How would you like to feel like an outlaw whose life is nullified as illicit? How would you feel for your basic impulses to be illegal? Whether or not you agree with the legality of it, that is how people genuinely feel. I'm asking how you would feel. The scythe, like a giant question, hangs over our heads.
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