It is hard to let go of a dream, especially one that came so close to being realized.

I find myself mourning the loss of the first female president. It is a loss I feel deeply, within the marrow of my bones. It curls up inside me and grabs a hold of a lifetime of resentment, anger, and fear. My sorrow is fed by the myriad of sexist comments that came out of the woodwork during this debate, and by the calm reaction most of our society had to those remarks. There was no uproar really, we almost treated these comments like legitimate political concerns.

My sorrow wraps itself around my spirit like a confirmation. It reminds me that I am not crazy, that sexism is still ripe, real, and common.

Briefly my spirit had wings, it rose above decades of experience, it ignored the misogynist sallies tossed into the wind, it believed. It soared on her campaign, reveling in each accomplishment, and so did I.

Now it sits, quietly, and waits to see how bad the disappointment will be. Will she play a role? Will any woman be placed on the ticket? Will this barrier breaking candidate break two at once or will he be content with shattering his particular glass ceiling?

Goodnight Hillary, thank you for fighting. Your strength fed my spirit, your tenacity made me proud.