Photos and text by Evelyn Hockstein Another estimated 500 names have been added to the death toll since last weekend, when the AIDS Memorial Quilt was shown in Washington, D.C. -- for what may be the final time. That means 500 potential new panels to be added to the quilt, which is already so big it could barely be contained on the grounds of the Mall. Including a walkway between large blocks of panels, the quilt covers 24 acres -- or the equivalent of 22 football fields. As colorful panel after panel stretched from the Washington Monument to the Capitol building, visitors spoke in whispers and emotions ran high. Often the only audible sound was the ominous voice calling out the names of the dead. Rumors circulated that the quilt will never again be shown in its entirety. Its ever-growing size would make another display impossible -- a striking symbol of the devastating effects of the flagging, but still growing, AIDS epidemic. "It is not necessary to be displayed in its entirety again," said Michael Gagliardi, Philadelphia Names Project Chapter chairperson. "Everyone knows about AIDS and that it is killing people. "Those people who are so sheltered at this point are never going to know about it. No one can truly see the whole thing anyway. I'm glad it's over." During the three days the quilt spread its message across D.C., some 3,000 new panels were added to the quilt. Already, the quilt links 40,000 panels representing more than 70,000 people who have died of the disease. Though numbers are a major issue when it comes to displaying the quilt, the experience is really about people. Two million visitors saw the quilt display last weekend -- and one in 300 Americans is infected with HIV. With shaking hands, one man -- battling the AIDS virus himself -- added a panel he had made in memory of his partner, who died in May. He and others faced the very real knowledge that they too may soon be added to the legacy of the quilt. Organizers noted that it was no coincidence the quilt was displayed in Washington during an election year. They said the exhibit was a potent reminder of the importance of government involvement in funding for AIDS prevention and treatment. Every panel is a testament to at least one individual's life. Panel makers explained the pieces are woven together with love and a common thread. For many, tenderly making the panels is part of the healing process. Jay Bonner, a Names Project volunteer from Philadelphia, had made a panel for his partner Jeff Weldon. "At first, seeing [the panel] was very emotional, but now there is a sense of closure," he said. The quilt serves as a personal cemetery for those who have died -- a collage of favorite outfits, love letters, photographs and sentimental poems. "I come to see my brother every time the quilt is displayed," said Marcia Bristol, whose brother died of AIDS in 1991. "He is here, in solidarity with all of the others who were lost to this terrible disease. "I said I would make him a new panel each year until a cure was found, but it has been too many years," she said.
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