Andrew Lewallen was born in Indiana on April 22, 1950 and died of AIDS in San Francisco on December 11, 1988, shortly after facilitating a Shanti volunteer training. Between the time he was raised in Indiana to his death, Andrew became deeply involved with the issue of AIDS through Shanti Project. Having begun as a volunteer, Andrew was asked to join the board of directors in 1982. But, as Shanti began to expand its programs and the number of people wanting to become a volunteer swelled, Andrew quit the board and became a volunteer coordinator in 1983 and worked in various other roles on staff until the time he was diagnosed with AIDS in 1986. Andrew’s diagnosis was particularly difficult for his family and loved ones. Robin Rose confessed in her interview that there was an undercurrent of thought that if someone was involved with working on AIDS, they, too, might be untouchable; “We never, ever suspected that Andrew would get sick, let alone die.”
Andrew confessed that he tried to push through his illness and the new reality he was living, at first, but it became clear he was ill and would have to stop working as much as he was. “Through all of this my friends, most of them Shanti “family,” comforted me with their love and concern. They held me, laughed with me and shared my grief and rage. Rather than avoid my depression, they acknowledged how difficult it must be for me…Today I know that my life is bigger than I think. Through Shanti work I’ve watched many friends live and die, and part of each of them lives with me. Today when I help train volunteers for Shanti, when I do public speaking or media work, when I help counsel patients and family at San Francisco General Hospital, I know that I am not bringing just myself to that experience. I am happy to be a vehicle for the inspiration of many others who have touched me. Shanti work helps free me from the prison of my limited self and reminds me that I am part of a whole. This is real healing, not just my physical survival but my appreciation of life moment to moment.”
After conducting a Shanti training in December, Andrew passed away at home on December 11, 1988. Upon his death his mother, Opel Whipker, wrote a letter to Shanti which was reprinted in a newsletter, below are some excerpts from her words. Whitaker would pass away in 2001. Her letter is not only a vivid account of Andrew’s life and personality, but also an interesting reflection on how straight family members not only processed their own personal feelings about gayness and gay politics, but also the impact of AIDS beyond the individual with the illness.
“To My Son’s Friends at Shanti,
On April 22, 1950 God gave me a son, Andrew Lewallen, and from the very beginning he was a joy to his father and me.
Even as a young boy he was loved by all the neighbors and by our local church family. He always would be the first to agree to help any place help was needed. He was called the little helper of the neighborhood. We knew then he would in some way devote his life to helping others.
When his father passed away he was only fourteen. He was very sad but strong enough to carry on and be a shoulder for me and his two sisters to lean on.
When he told us he was gay, we were shocked and somewhat disappointed. But when I stopped to clear my head, I realized that I was mostly disappointed because I wanted him to have a family to carry his name. Then I realized his name would live forever for what his life was going to be.
I did not keep his gay life a secret from family or friends. And what a wonderful surprise we got. It seemed to make everyone love and respect him more. We didn’t lose him at all. We only gained a better and stronger loving and caring friend and son.
When Andrew told me he had AIDS, Oh! How we cried! As did so many other family members and friends here in Indiana. But he had such courage and was more concerned for what it would do to me. He was always wanting to soothe my pain and grief.
I wanted to be with him and take care of him, but that was not his wish. He wanted to be in complete control to the end (and he was). He knew his mom would want to take over, for in my heart he was still my little boy.
We had some visits here at home, but our phone calls to each other topped all visits. He would always call me when he felt low about a lost loved one or friend and we would cry together and pray together. It was such a joy to know that he felt free to talk to me about anything at any time.
His stepfather and I went to visit him in November of ’88. He had planned so much for us to do and see, but it turned out we had to spend all of our time together in the hospital. He was so disappointed, but I’m thankful that I had that chance to take care of him and comfort him, as I knew he had done for so many others. This time with him gave me the chance to prove to myself just how much I loved him and that I could be strong enough to share his pain.
The greatest gift of all was to get to know his friends and see how they also loved him and took care of his needs. This made it much easier to leave him when we had to return home.
My last phone call was late December 10th. Our last words to each other were ‘I love you!’ He passed away the next day very peacefuly.
Andrew how I miss you! But I have no regrets, just wonderful memories of your giving, caring, and loving life. You will live forever.
I want to thank each and everyone of you. I love you all.”
-Opal Whipker
