My morning was ruined when Lara read on our way to work that Dr. George Tiller had been murdered while attending his church on Sunday morning. The fatigue from the weekend compounded the incredible sense of loss.
He was an INCREDIBLY amazing, generous, courageous man. He had been shot twice before. His clinic had been bombed. He is one of only three doctors in the nation willing to perform late term abortions. Late term abortions. (Something like 0.3% of all abortions of all late term abortions are late term. Majority of the fetuses were not viable.) Most of the women were in bad situations.
When I worked at Planned Parenthood of Greater Cleveland, we sent people to Kansas when they needed Dr. Tiller. And "needed" was an understatement.
He knew what he had gotten himself into. He knew what he was up again. He knew his number would come due one day and he would most likely go out violently but he still did his work. He still advocated on behalf of women and our rights. He was a feminist in the middle of the stickiest battles.
His father performed abortions when it was illegal.
He was the end of the line for so many people. He was their last chance. He was their only hope. And now he's gone.
And I don't know who or how that giant, gaping hole is going to be filled.
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