For anyone who was not around eight years ago, it may seem like a new sensation to feel the venom and vile negativity surrounding the Democratic primary election. This is not, however, a new feeling for those of us who battled fiercely for Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama in 2008. Things got nasty back then, just like they are now. And when it was over, much like it will be tonight, we started the healing with a very classy concession speech from Hillary to Barack. I hope we can do that again.

She thanked her supporters for their hard work. She urged them to unite behind Obama. (She even managed a "Yes we can!" without gritting her teeth.) She painted her candidacy as a world-historic successor to the suffragists, the abolitionists, and the civil rights movement: "From now on, it will be unremarkable for a woman to win primary state victories, unremarkable to have a woman in a close race to be our nominee, unremarkable to think that a woman can be the President of the United States," she said to cheers. "And that is truly remarkable." And why not? She wanted a party, not a funeral.

Of course it was not as easy as snapping fingers. The battle scars were fresh and throbbing.

"The people who volunteered for her and gave to her need time to heal," she said. "These people count. She validated our support of her." Brown hasn’t decided whether to vote for Obama yet, but was turned off by the glee with which the media rushed to coronate Obama. "Some of us may come around, just give us time," she said.

Was the healing instant? No way. Were there bitter Hillary supporters that vowed to NEVER EVER vote for Obama? Yes there were.

Indeed, a small but vocal minority of the audience made clear they’d rather eat glass than vote for Obama. Linda Mahoney from Silver Spring had a computer print-out sign taped to her back saying "Remember in November, vote present"—a riff on Obama’s "present" votes in the Illinois senate. It was her partner’s idea, she said, pointing to the woman behind her. Mahoney was visibly sickened by the notion of an Obama presidency. "He’s a do-nothing." But would she really prefer a McCain administration? "It bothers me a lot, but at least we can unelect him in four years." Later, when Clinton endorsed Obama, Mahoney and her partner stormed out. Clinton anticipated this sort of reaction. "[W]hen you hear people saying – or think to yourself – 'if only’ or 'what if,’ I say, 'please don’t go there,’ " she told the audience. "Every moment wasted looking back keeps us from moving forward."

Sounds familiar. Sounds current.

"I don’t care," he said. "I’m one of those angry voters." His distaste for Obama was matched only by his revulsion toward the media, on whom he blamed Clinton’s loss. He wasn’t alone. When I approached a Clinton supporter named Gretchen, she nearly threw holy water on me. "You’re part of the problem," she said. But I hadn’t even asked her a question yet, I pointed out. "It’s what you represent," she said.

Yep. Back to square one, when the boardgame is done. But. Those horrible hurts heal. Time fades the anger, the bitterness, and the pain. Especially when the defeated candidate helps unite the party.

Clinton left her supporters with the message that her candidacy and Obama’s are both historic—but that this moment is his. "I will work my heart out to make sure that Senator Obama is our next President and I hope and pray that all of you will join me in that effort," she said. The cheers drowned out the boos.

May we all join together, as human beings, to defeat Donald Trump or whatever monster comes out of the Republican convention in Cleveland. We can do it, I know we can. We have done it before.