Yesterday I learned of a death that crushed me like I did not know possible. For 40ish years Butch McKay was a guidepost for me as a professional, humanitarian, advocate, activist, and most importantly as a human. Admittedly, I never mastered them all as he did.

The legacy of established and/or expanded agencies, organizations, programs, conferences, and networks by Butch has changed the course of history for untold numbers.

Local, state, national, and global honors, recognitions, and awards, all unequivocally deserved, were commonplace for him.

The honest, true, and never wavering love, compassion, and caring he had for his friends and fellow man is far too uncommon.

Today, with a heavy heart and deep gratitude, I have tried to pull myself together enough to honor someone who changed our lives—and changed the world around him—through compassion, courage, and unwavering love.

He was all things at once: a trailblazing leader, a fierce activist, a devoted boss, and a dear friend. But more than any title, he was a person who saw others—especially those too often overlooked—and made it his life’s work to stand beside them.

Butch, who himself was never infected by the virus, was commitmented to ending HIV/AIDS. For him is was not abstract or symbolic. It was personal. It was urgent. It was relentless. He never quit believing with every fiber of their being, that no one should be left behind, no one shamed, and no one forgotten. And Butch didn’t just believe it—he did something about it. Every day. Through long hours, hard conversations, brave decisions, and an unshakeable moral compass.

He fought just as fiercely for LGBTQ equality, not because it was easy or popular, but because it was right. Butch understood that justice is not a favor—it’s a promise. A promise that everyone deserves dignity, safety, and the freedom to live openly and fully as themselves. Because of his work, doors opened. Laws changed. Lives were saved. And hope became more tangible for countless people who may never know his name, but will forever benefit from their courage.

As a boss, Butch led with kindness and trust. He challenged us to be better, but never made us feel small. He listened. He mentored. He believed in people—often before we believed in ourselves. Working for Butch meant being part of something bigger, something meaningful, something rooted in purpose.

As a friend, Butch was generous in the ways that matter most. He showed up. He remembered. He cared deeply and without pretense. Butch's compassion wasn’t performative—it was instinctive. You felt it in his presence. You felt safer, stronger, and more hopeful just by being near him.

It’s hard to accept a world without his voice, his laugh, his guidance. The loss feels unfair—because someone who gave so much deserved so much more time. But even in our grief, we can carry his legacy forward.

We carry it every time we choose empathy over indifference.

Every time we stand up when it would be easier to stay silent.

Every time we fight for a world where health care, equality, and dignity are not privileges, but rights.

Butch taught us that change is possible—because he made it happen.

We will miss them more than words can hold.

We will honor Butch by continuing the work.

And we will remember him always—with love, with gratitude, and with the determination to build the future he so fiercely believed in.

Thank you Butch for everything.

You mattered.

You still do.

You always will.

May we all find shoulders to cry on and arms to fall into during this time of such grief. May comfort and peace soon find us in the midst our shock. Let's rely on those we love to hold us tight until happy memories once again overtake our feelings of loss and sadness.

-Doug Landreth