Happy Mother’s Day!

Dear Ravi,

This is my second attempt at a blog. I was just about to post a letter to you an hour ago when I lost my WIFI connection and poof! the blog was gone. Right then, daddy came in from the airfield with a dozen red roses for me. I am feeling very loved. Mother’s Day hits a bit different when you have lost a child, when you are estranged from a child, or both. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the number of cards, letters, notes, and gifts that I have received today. It is a complete outpouring of love. I got to talk to Jenn, my bereavement peer who wished me a “Happy F’ing Mother’s Day”, and we talked about how weird it is that you and Zack are no longer here, but we are certain that you are having a much better time in heaven. We imagined the two of you running around, eating candy, crushing on pretty girls, going to favorite places, and causing good trouble with Cousin Joyce. She is one of the few moms I can really go deep with because she intimately knows what it is like to lose a child to osteosarcoma. This is the club that no parent wants to belong to.

I clearly remember my first mother’s day. We took you to church and all the moms got flowers and a special blessing. I was so happy to be your mom and nothing can ever take away that joy. Last year I planted lots of flowers in the garden. Planting is not in the cards for me right now, due to my neck instability and the neuropathy in my hands and feet. I am hiring Daniel’s nephew to come over, pull up weeds and spread out mulch for me later this week. I love to garden but I will have to let someone else do all the work this summer. I will continue to baby my indoor plants and water your trees.

Daddy spent today out at the airfield as FOO but did not get to fly. Hopefully, he can fly later this week. I definitely want to go up in a glider this summer, but it will have to wait until late July or early August, when I am recovered enough from surgery not to wear a brace. It sounds strange to be looking forward to surgery, but I am. Surgery will hopefully fix the instability and cure the neuropathy. After my last fusion there was some post-surgical discomfort, but it was outweighed tremendously by how much better I felt almost immediately. My first thought was that I could wiggle my toes and feel all my extremities, so I knew that the surgery was successful.

Please pray for your Uncle Rob. He is having 2 major surgeries in the next 2 days. Steady the surgeons’ hands, let them successfully embolize his tumor and then rebuild his femur and hip. He should be in the hospital for about a week, and then possibly in a rehab facility after that. My God’s holy presence sit with Cindy as she waits for news from the surgeon. May God be with your cousins Aaron and Robbie. I will be lighting lots of candles and praying without ceasing tomorrow. As always, April and Rick will be joining us in prayer. I am convinced that they have a direct pipeline to God.

I wonder what Mercury is doing today and if they miss you. They never showed up for you during your illness, so I have my doubts. The people in life that show up during hardships, illnesses, and crises as the ones that you always want around you. Blood does not make you family. People that hold you in prayer and hold you in their arms are the ones that truly matter. You were blessed by so many loving people in your short life, and these same people continue to show up for Daddy and for me. We will always be grateful.

The dogs are running around the backyard. Nikki is crashed out at my feet after playing with his new catnip mouse. Raya is hanging out with daddy. Both Jenn and I agree that we have to have a houseful of pets. We thrive on the noise and the furry chaos. This is going to be a short blog as my mind is thinking one thing to write and my hands are doing something completely different. I have the feeling I will not be doing a lot of letters of query this summer as I cannot coordinate my mind and my fingers. It is a beautiful day outside. I know that you and Zack are running free where there is no fear, pain or cancer. Someday, I will hold you in my arms again. In the meantime, I will keep telling your story. I will advocate for autism and osteosarcoma. I will fight for better outcomes. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.