Author: snort262

I am a wife, mom, long distance runner and fierce autism advocate. My background is in education. Currently, I am a PCA, an autism advocate, a fighter for kindness and social justice, and a fervent animal lover.

No rapture, no epidemic

Good morning from St Paul. We are pleased to announce that the rapture did not happen. We are also pleased to announce that no one is eating the pets. Remember that? “They are eating the dogs. They are eating the cats. They are eating the pets.” That did not age very well, did it? Currently, I have 3 dogs at my feet, a cat on the back of my chair and a hedgehog happily running on her wheel. No one is in any danger of being consumed. So, let’s go over what is not going on. Tylenol does not cause autism, nor do vaccines. The idea of the rapture is made up by people who want you to be scared of your own shadow and a wrathful deity. Nope, I don’t believe it. What else don’t I believe? I don’t believe that autism is a pandemic.

When Ravi was diagnosed in 2002, the current belief was that 1 child out of 181 children would be diagnosed autistic. Over the course of his life, these numbers fell. When he passed, last fall, I believe that the numbers were 1 in 36. So, before you start clutching your pearls, let’s dive into this. In 2004 autism was seen as something that only affected little boys. You know the stereotype, the “little professors” the ones who lined their toys up in a row, the ones who knew the name of every dinosaur that ever walked this earth. Funny, Ravi did not do any of those things. True, he was non speaking and until he got glasses had terrible eye contact. (By the way, eye contact is seriously over rated.) A lot of the time, it seemed that he lived in his own little world. Gradually, over the course of his life he world expanded greatly and he lived and loved deeply. But, he could not have cared less about dinosaurs or the time tables of trains in the EU. The “professionals” also told us that autism was very rare in females and that clearly Ravi was the only one in the family who was affected.

Ravi was diagnosed after an 11 month wait. During that time I called, wrote, begged any doctor or therapist who would listen to please take a look at my son. Again and again I was told that I was just an overly anxious first time mom and that some delays were “normal” with preemies and boys just generally talked later than girls. The first break through was when some teachers from St Paul Schools came to assess Ravi in his home environment. He completely tuned them out and 10 minutes later they told me that he was on the spectrum, and we could start Early Childhood Special Education immediately. Validation! He started school the next week and loved it. 11 months later he was seen by a psychologist at Gillette Children’s who also diagnosed him as on the spectrum. There were no levels of autism then or talk of higher or lower support needs. Basically, she assessed him, gave us a write up of her observations, said he was clearly autistic, asked if he liked puppets (?) and sent us on our merry way. She did not suggest PT, OT, or speech. I had to dig for those services on my own.

Fast forward to 8 years ago. At the suggestion of a good friend, who is also autistic, I got myself evaluated. I too, discovered that I was on the spectrum. In a way, it was a relief. For 46 years I had felt like an alien dumped on planet Earth without a how-to manual. I always felt that there must have been some sort of class or seminar that everyone else took on how to be a human being, and a female, that I had just missed. I don’t pick up on social nuances. I don’t read faces well at all. I have terrible facial blindness, meaning that even if I know you well and bump into you someplace new or unexpected, I won’t recognize you. I can recognize people by the sound of their voice or their gait, but not their faces. Faces to me are a mystery. At this point, I am told I make decent eye contact. Fun fact, I am actually looking at your ear or your eyebrows. Eyes and expressions confuse me. I can either look you in the eye, or I can avert my eyes and truly listen to you. For the life of me, I can’t really do both. Two weeks after I was diagnosed, Mercury, age 14 was diagnosed autistic. Their autism manifests in high anxiety, perfectionism, a huge startle reflex, depression and anxiety. Both of us flew under the radar for years because we did well in school, were voracious readers, had huge vocabularies at a very young age and were not hyperactive or fixated on one particular subject. We both would do deep dives into things that interested us but quickly realized that the rest of the female pack was not interested in the last tsar of Russia, 6 wives of King Henry VIII or different kinds of sharks!

Fast forward to 2025. My friends who have babies tell me that pediatricians now begin autism screening at the 6 month checkup. No one has to ask for an assessment, they just happen. No one tells a mother of a little girl that autism doesn’t happen to females. Hello, Temple Grandin? For better or worse, there is also social media, which did not exist when my children were babies. There are autism moms and autism groups. There are people to bounce ideas off of if you are worried about your child’s development. There are online autism screening tests just for women. Soon after a friend recommended that I get an assessment I googled Autism in women. Pay dirt! I clicked nearly all of the boxes. For the first time in my life, all of my strange little quirks and mannerisms made sense. I wasn’t a bad person; I just saw the world from a different angle. It was a blessed relief.

So, that brings us to today. Voices in DC are screaming about autism, Tylenol, and vaccines. Using Tylenol during pregnancy will not cause autism. Autism was first diagnosed in 1911. Tylenol came on the market in 1955. Since that time, it is the only medicine a doctor will recommend to a pregnant woman. If a woman is pregnant and develops a fever, particularly in the first trimester, the fetus is at grave risk. Bringing the fever down will make mom feel better and the fetus is protected as well. Vaccines do not cause autism. They allow our children to grow up to be healthy adults without having to suffer through measles, mumps, rubella, chicken pox, polio, etc. All of these illnesses can be fatal, and even if the child lives, they will be miserable for weeks. Who wouldn’t want to spare their baby from that? The rates of autism are not “sky rocketing”. Assessments are getting better. Science is discovering that not just males, but females and particularly non-binary persons can be affected. This is not a pandemic. Pandemics are spread through germs. Autism is not spread. It cannot be caught. It cannot be cured because it does not need a cure. Autistics are not sick. They see the world through a different lens. Acceptance, accommodations, an equal playing field, better supports for those who age out of the system at 18, yes, all of these things are useful and highly necessary.

So, as I said in my last blog, let’s take a deep collective breath. Let’s stop clutching our pearls. The voices coming out of DC are just hot air. Kennedy does not even have a medical license. Why are we listening to a man who claims that he has a worm in his brain and a heroin addiction? The rapture did not happen. No one is going to eat your pets. Autism is a not an epidemic. This is not helpful. What would be helpful is to help those who have aged out of the system but cannot gain employment or acceptance. What would be helpful is knowing that all of our autistic brothers, sisters, and those who are non-binary are loved, accepted, challenged and allowed to feel that they have a place in society and that they have a voice. Rant over. Go touch grass, drink some cool water, walk your dog, get in touch with nature. I can’t promise that it will all be okay, but I can promise you and promise Ravi that I will never stop fighting anything autism related. Be good humans. Peace, Harriet.

It’s all about sex

So, today we are expected to believe that taking Tylenol during pregnancy causes autism. Really? Autism has been around since Noah lined his animals up two by two, probably by height and in alphabetical order as well, and put them on his ark. Autism has always existed. Tylenol entered the market in 1955. The use of Tylenol by pregnant women has remained about the same for the last 60 years. Have some women taken it? Sure, if they were battling a high fever and were truly miserable. Lots of women did not take it. I did not take anything but a multi-vitamin with folic acid while I was pregnant. Funny thing, both of my kids turned out to be autistic. I turned out to be autistic and so did Robert. When our mothers were expecting I know for a fact that they drank wine, ate tuna, and consumed brie cheese. My mom was a former smoker. Neither Robert nor I were harmed, though I would not recommend that pregnant women do these things. I firmly believe that autism is there in utero. I was autistic before I was born. Same for the rest of my family and anyone else who is on the spectrum. Autism does not need a cure because it is not an illness. It is simply another way of being, another way of seeing the world and interacting with it.

Vaccines do not cause autism. Vaccines save us from deadly diseases. I am an autism mom, and I vaccinate. I most certainly did not want to watch my children suffer or die from measles, mumps, rubella, or whooping cough. Because most parents took the vaccine schedules very seriously, we had a high herd immunity, protecting those who could not or would not get the shots for their children. Are their children who cannot get their immunizations? Yes definitely, which makes it of paramount importance that the rest of us make certain that our children do get their shots on time. When we vaccinate, we protect not only ourselves, but others in the world who may be immune compromised and are vulnerable. After a person goes through cancer treatments, they often have to retake their childhood vaccines again because they have been wiped out and have no immunity. While they are undergoing treatment it is up to the rest of us to protect them and keep them disease free.

Andrew Wakefield did terrible harm in the 1990s when he said that the MMR vaccine caused autism. He faked his data and later lost his medical license. But, he set the scene. Mothers were encouraged to believe that they “caused” their child’s autism when they were merely keeping their children safe and allowing them the chance to live to adulthood. Kennedy is also doing terrific harm. He is not a medical professional but is telling other doctors what to do and how to think. Autism is not an epidemic. You can’t spread it or catch it. The reason we see more cases of autism is the medical community has gotten much better at identifying it. When my offspring were babies there were not screening tests for autism at standard checkups. I knew from early on that something was very different about Ravi but had to yell and scream and stomp my feet to even get our pediatrician to refer us to someone who might help. Thankfully, he retired a few months later and we never missed him. My friends who currently have babies say that doctors start screening babies for autism at their 6-month checkup. If a child presents with red flags, they can get help before they even turn one. Intervention gives these children a chance at a happier, fuller life. This is not to say that early intervention is the only key to success, autistic individuals need support and accommodations throughout their lives, but that is a blog for another day.

So, if Tylenol and vaccines do not cause autism, what does? Sex! Autism can only happen if parents have sex. If Robert and I had never had sex, we would not have had autistic children. As it was, we very happily had sex and very happily produced two quirky, wonderful kids. We have no regrets.

I suggest that the world take a collective deep breath. Don’t believe everything coming out of Washington because it changes from day to day and becomes even more outrageous. Stop pointing fingers and digging up old studies that have already been debunked. Smile at your neighbor. Hold open the door for a stranger. Seek and work for peace. Ravi was a peace-loving young person. He would not understand the hate and vitriol that has grasped our nation. I will never find a cure for osteosarcoma, but autism advocacy is a hill I will die upon. There is no need for a cure because autism is not a disease. There is no need to make mothers feel guilty for taking a Tylenol while they were pregnant. There is a definite need to get rid of Kennedy and get an actual board-certified physician to take his place. 14 years of heroin use has done him no favors. There is not one cause of autism, there may be thousands. Someone once asked me if I could wave a magic wand, would I get rid of Ravi’s autism. The answer is a hard no. If I got rid of Ravi’s autism, I would also get rid of Ravi’s core, his very soul. I would have done anything to give him relief from epilepsy, but I would never have changed who he fundamentally was as a person. That would be like playing God. I am not a deity, just a parent fighting very hard for more acceptance and accommodations for those who are non neuro typical.

To say the least, the news of the day has upset me. I can’t control what comes out of Washington, but I can control what I believe is true. Autism can be hell hard, but it also can be beautiful. Ravi lived his life unapologetically. I loved him and Mercury with my entire heart. I would do anything to have them back in our lives. For them, for all of us in this autistic community, keep fighting to make the playing field equal and autism accepting. Ravi will be proud of you. Peace, be good humans.

Brave Like Gabe

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday, I ran another 5km for you, and for a very brave lady named Gabe. Like you, she fought cancer bravely. She was an elite runner and ran for the University of Minnesota. In 2018 she set up the Brave Like Gabe 5km to promote exercise in the life of cancer patients and to raise funds for better outcomes for rare cancers, including osteosarcoma. Sadly, she passed away in 2019, but her race and legacy live on.

There was quite the party going when your daddy and I arrived at Como Park. Tents and balloons, streamers, signs one could make in honor of their loved one with cancer. Runners who had survived cancer wore Survivor tags on their bibs. I made a sign for you and hung it on the wall of honor and wrote #TeamRavi on my race number. There were 330 and runners in this race, most of them women. Some were fast, some were slow, but all were determined to finish this run. People ran with dogs, kids, strollers, etc. It was a moving festival which ran out into the park and around the lake. It was humid and I was wearing your Fight Like a Kid cancer shirt, which is cotton, and it very soon was drenched. I didn’t care, I was out there running for you and for everyone who is fighting or has fought this demon called cancer. I was pretty happy with my time, 32:42, with an average pace of 10:28 a mile. I was in the top third overall and 8th in my age group. I did not see any cardinals or monarch butterflies on my run, but I felt your presence. I ran into an old club member during the race and after the race the race director came out and gave me a huge hug. She has followed your story for years. There were tears on both sides. Your daddy met me right after that and we chatted with people for a few minutes, got some treats and headed home. Ravi, I was so proud to run this race both for Gabe and for you. This will become an annual tradition.

We got home mid-morning and had a snack. The dogs were anxious to go for walks, so I took them out. I had a lot of feelings to work through, and I think best on my feet. The dogs and I walked at least 5 miles. I call this grief walking. There was a huge pit of emptiness inside of me. I just kept walking. If I run and walk far enough, will I find you?

On a cheerier note, I am on the Gather committee, making St. Clement’s and other churches more autism and sensory friendly. We will begin meeting next month. There are two part time positions open to help our committee do our work. This week Elizabeth asked me to sit on the hiring committee to help choose these two people. I immediately answered in the affirmative. The only hiring I have ever done was in finding PCAs to help you and I let you guide the hiring process. You knew who you liked and trusted. Jessie, Peter, Alissa, I am looking at you. Anyway, it will be a different view being on the other end of the hiring process. I will let you know how it goes, though this will not be until early November.

Ravi, please pray for your nonbinary sibling, Mercury. They have made some bad decisions and published an essay about our family that is completely untrue. They used you for a ploy for sympathy but did not even get the part about your cancer right. They misspelled your grandmother’s name and said that we had disowned them and threw all their possessions out on the front lawn. As you know, this is patently untrue. They called a domestic on us and 4 armed policemen raided our house on what had been a quiet Sunday afternoon. That trauma still hangs with me. I did not see Mercury that day and we have not seen them since. Three years have passed. Anyway, it has been a very strange and week. I feel like we have suffered a death and a very messy divorce in less than one year. I hope and pray for reconciliation, but this is a lot for Mercury to walk back from. If they ever reach out, I will gladly answer them, but this wound will take many years to heal, on both sides.

Ravi, my love, I was so proud to run for you and to raise research funds to fight osteosarcoma and other rare cancers. You and Gabe did not die in vain. We wish you were still here with us, but please know that your name and your story still carry an impact. I am still working on getting a publisher for your first book. I look for you in cardinals and monarch butterflies. I carry you forever in my heart. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

Dear Ravi,

I have to admit, I am tapped out. It is only halfway through the month, and I am exhausted. Running the race 2 weekend ago for you was wonderful. I am looking forward to running another 5km, Brave Like Gabe, this weekend. Together, lots of runners are raising money for better outcomes for rare cancers, including osteosarcoma. But more and more people want to hear the story of your cancer journey. Ravi my love, I can happily talk about your life all day long, but I really don’t want to write or chat about the end of your life. We are coming up on the one-year anniversary of your passing and I am too raw, too tired, to share. I am digging deep and doing something unusual for me. I am telling people no. Not forever, but no for right now. Maybe in another year or two I can share your cancer story, but right now I am just trying to put one foot in front of the other.

On a different note, if the church seemed more lively than usual yesterday, there was a good reason! It was the first day of Sunday School. I am happily co-teaching a class of 8 girls, ages 5 through 10. They have amazing enthusiasm and energy. Being around them is a joy. You loved school so I imagine that the noise and clamor of young learners made your heart expand several sizes. St Clement’s is very much alive. After I taught Sunday School I went upstairs for the 10:30 service. Joy preached, using one of your favorite children’s stories, The Runaway Bunny, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. You cannot outrun my love, on either side of the grave, and we cannot outrun the love of God. After the service I retreated downstairs to visit you. Sunday school and the service had taken all of my spoons. It was a relief just to sit in the chapel, relax, and talk to you. Eventually, I emerged and made my way home. Dad and I took several long dog walks. We are thinking of planting a tree in your honor next month. I don’t know what type of tree yet; I will go to the nursery and see which tree calls to me.

Ravi, you visit me so often in my dreams. Interestingly, you do not have Sam, or any other AAC, nor do you need mouth words. You seem perfectly content and happy. There must be other ways of communicating in heaven that we folk on earth cannot even fathom. Please look out for our friends who are going through chemo. You know how hard that journey is. We can both support them in prayer. Sometimes, prayer is all I have to give.

So, this week and the rest of the month is going to be one step at a time. I will run a race for you. I will blog about you. I will spend time with people who knew and loved you. I will try to take care of myself and your dad. I will pray that Mercury will one day reach out. Time is weird. Sometimes, it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever, other times, the months pass in the blink of an eye. Maybe that makes more sense in heaven, too. Not a lot in the world makes sense right now, but my love for you continues forever. Love, Mom.

11 months, 24 years

Dear Ravi,

It has been 11 months since I last held you in my arms. It has been 24 years since I stood in my middle school classroom watching the second tower fall. Both of these days are etched in my brain forever. I miss your funny laugh and your goofy smile. I miss how you talked to me through Sam. I miss waking you up in the morning, putting you to bed at night, and all the good times in between. I miss a time when our country was more innocent. I even miss being able to walk to the gate to meet someone getting off of an airplane.

The world is a chaotic and violent place right now. Much as I love and miss you, I am glad you are not here to see it. I have no idea how I would explain it to you. Your world was full of good, caring people who loved you. You had never seen a gun, you had never been attacked, and for all of this I give praise to God.

I wasn’t even pregnant with you on 9/11/2001. Your daddy and I had been married less than 5 weeks. It was the start of a new school year for me as a teacher and a new school year for me as a graduate student. Your daddy was working at Sun. We had so much to look forward to. I remember little of that day, just fragments and snippets. I do remember I banned the portable TV from my classroom, in a vain attempt to make the horror go away. I remember a few weeks later I was at the start of the Twin Cities Marathon when someone announced that the US had just attacked Afghanistan. A few weeks after that, on November 13, I fainted, fell down a flight of stairs, broke 2 ribs, and discovered that I was pregnant with you. You always did have a certain way of making your presence known.

Since that time, wars and presidents and shootings have gone on. Our society seems numb to it all. I am not numb. I feel like I am caught in a horrible nightmare from which I cannot wake up. I sense you in my dreams and right when I wake up, and my heart leaps. Then, reality sets in and I realize that all I can do is hold your memory in my heart and the great love I have for you in my actions with others.

Ravi, you lived a life of love. In your memory I try to carry that on. Your daddy tries to carry that on. Maybe from where you are now you can make sense of this crazy world or at least have that Perfect Peace that Jesus spoke of. Please know you are always in my heart. I feel you when I run, or I see a monarch butterfly or a cardinal. The veil between you and I is very thin. One day, we will meet again. In the meant time, I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Finish the Run

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday, I ran a 5km race for you. Finish the Run 5km was set up in memory of a local elite runner who passed away on a run in his neighborhood 10 years ago. The first year was just a gathering of his family and his running friends. Over the years, the numbers grew and it turned into something much bigger. Everyone was given a bib with a number and a space to write the name of the person for whom they were running. I chose a bright red Sharpie and wrote Ravi, #TeamRavi, in big letters. It was a very happy race. Strollers and dogs were welcome.

My training runs with the dogs have been slow. Generally, I putter along at about an 11:30 minute mile. I also mix in walking sections to keep my heart rate at a good level. My hope was to run the race between 35 and 40 minutes. Breaking 35 minutes was a reach plan. The day of the race surprised me. It was a beautiful fall day. I felt good. I decided not to look at my Garmin but just run by feel. If I looked at my watch at all, it would be when it beeped every mile. I set off towards the rear of the pack, but ahead of the walkers. The sun was shining, and we ran over Stone Arch Bridge. I looked at my watch at the one-mile mark. To my surprise, my time was 10:23. At that point I fell into a wonderful state of flow. I could feel the miles passing beneath my feet but had no real sense of the passage of time. The next thing I knew was the finish line was in sight. I picked up my pace a bit and dodged some walkers with strollers and dogs. Your dad, Margaret, and Shawn were waiting for me at the finish line. I stopped my watch and looked down. Final time, 30:57. I was stunned. We all shared hugs and pictures and eventually headed home. The veil between the living and those who have passed was very thin at that race. Ravi, I could feel your presence, and you kept me strong. Thank you.

Last night I discovered another 5km race in 2 weeks. It is called Brave Like Gabe. She was a local runner with a rare form of cancer who passed in 2019. Her race has been run every year since 2018. As you know, funding for rare cancers is my jam, so I promptly signed up and gave a generous donation. It just felt like the right thing to do.

Ravi, my love, I feel you when I run. Your spirit races free with me. You are soaring. I was proud to run with you. More races to come. Love you to the moon and back. Mom. #TeamRavi.

292 is 292 too many

Dear Ravi,

Please forgive my tardiness. You are never far from my thoughts and my heart, but my muse has gone mute with grief in the last week. As you know, there was a shooting at Annunciation School, during mass last week. Sweetie, I was a Cath0lic School educator for over 20 years, starting before you were even born, or your daddy and I had gotten together. I have taught in rich neighborhoods; I have taught in neighborhoods riddled with poverty. As school shootings became more common, I would always tell my students that if they were in any danger, to run to the church, they would be safe there. Again, and again the gun lovers in our country send school shooting victims thoughts and prayers. But Ravi, faith without works are dead. The 2 children who were killed and the 21 who were injured were literally in church, praying, when they were attacked. After Columbine, the gun lovers should have said that enough is enough. Then, I thought that Sandy Hook was be the end point. But school shootings continue, and society has become mostly numb, except for those who have directly suffered unspeakable loss. It is too easy for young people to get their hands on firearms. The background checks are not stringent enough. I am not saying that gun ownership is wrong, I grew up in a household of guns. I respect them and know how to handle them. But the regular person on the street does not need a military grade firearm. Switzerland has more guns per capita than humans but has never had a school shooting. They have firm gun regulations which are country does not. America does not need thoughts and prayers. We need change at a federal level, and we need it now.

The day of the shooting I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee. I heard about the horror at Annunciation, and we pivoted and decided to meet on the church green. Soon after, daddy joined us. An hour later Joy and Elizabeth came out and sat and prayed with us. In our own small way, we were keeping vigil. At church on Sunday Joy announced that after the Tuesday Compline service we would ring the chimes 292 times, for all the souls lost in school shootings in 2025. I had every intention of going, but fate had other plans. I got home from a 9-hour work shift, had a quick bite to eat and headed back to my car. To my surprise, the garage door would not go up and let me out! I was stuck at home. So, I prayed Compline on my own, as I do every evening. I hope that the neighborhood heart the bells and wondered who they were run 292 times. Did they hear, or was it just more background noise to our busy world? I don’t know.

There have been many tears this week, Ravi. I have not felt so raw since the month that you left us. There are 2 new angels in heaven, and I know that you have made them feel welcome. I also know that the only thing in the world that their grieving parents want is to have them safely back in their arms. All bereaved parents desire this. It is the thing that we want most, and this wish will not be granted until we have all passed away. From dust we are made and to dust we shall return.

I miss you more than words can say. So many people have reached out to me at the start of school, sharing favorite memories of you. I see the yellow busses going down the block and remember how much you loved to ride the bus. It is a very bittersweet feeling. I am running a memorial race for you this Sunday, September 7. The race is called Finish the Run, and the logo is to Run with Intention. Ravi, I will always love you and I will always run for you. For me, running is the highest form of prayer. Be safe dear one dear. I see you in the cardinals and the monarch butterflies. Love you to the moon and back, Mom.

Good morning, Ravi

Dear Ravi,

I woke up missing you today. This is nothing unusual. You and your sibling are the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of when I fall asleep. Ravi, you often come to me in my dreams, but your sibling, Mercury, is much more elusive.

It is a quiet Sunday. Daddy is off at the airfield with a friend. I am slowly taking care of the pets and cleaning the house. I did not make it to church this morning as today is one of those days when it is challenging to even leave the house. I will walk the dogs, but I am not feeling up to engaging with the world at large. I continue to like my new job, but by the end of a 9-hour shift, I am tired. It feels good to work for someone who uses AAC and has similar social justice views that your daddy and I have.

I saw a tattoo today that horrified me. It was a heart, made out of the autism puzzle piece. In the middle of it, the tattoo read, ” I am his voice, he is my heart.” Ravi, you have your own voice, loud and clear. You could say so much by using Sam, through a roll of your eyes, a gesture, your body language. I am your mom, your biggest fan and advocate, but I am not your voice. God gave you a voice, my son, and mouth words are not superior to other types of communication. I am certain that the wearer of this tattoo means no harm, but it seems to me that she is claiming ownership of her child. I did not own you, Ravi. I was deeply blessed by you, I adore you, but I never once owned you. You are your own person, always were, always will be. One should be careful what one gets as a tattoo, because once one gets it, it is there for life. Currently, I have tattoos for you and Mercury. I am proud of them. It generally takes me about 10 years to come up with the perfect tattoo design. At some point, I will get another tattoo for you. It might be your name or your initials. It might be a cardinal. It might be something completely different. Time will tell. I do know that I will have it put on my right leg so I can always take you running and walking with me. I am running and walking here on earth for you, and I can only assume that you are your usual peripatetic self in heaven!

The dogs are schooling around my legs like a hungry sharks having a feeding frenzy. They are ready for me to stop blogging and take them for a walk. The temps are lovely and cool today with a gentle breeze. Perfect weather for dog walking and working in the yard. I know that you are dancing in heaven, but the selfish part of me wants you here, safe and whole and healthy. I miss you, son. The first anniversary of your passing is fast approaching, and I am seeking a way to celebrate your life. I invite you to visit me in a dream and drop some good ideas. Love you forever, Mom.

Ends and Beginnings

Dear Ravi,

August is winding to a close. Today is the first day of the Minnesota State Fair. Like you, I am an introvert and have no urge at all to go hang out with a million sweaty Minnesotans. For the next 10 days, I will be avoiding Snelling Avenue. The places that we used to haunt are on the other side of the fairgrounds, and I have no need to go there.

I met Laurie for a walk this morning. I brought Raya and she brought Luka. We rambled about, looked at plants and animals and let our dogs get in some good sniffs and pee breaks. Later, I returned home and took Jack Jack and Gloria for a run through the neighborhood. On our run we came across two male cardinals having an intense discussion up in a tree. I think it was you and Dave Evans, hanging out and shooting the breeze. You are both incredible people and I am glad you got to meet each other. If you bump into another Dave, Dave Coyne, give him a shoutout from me. Twin Cities Running is still going strong, but we miss him, a lot.

I have just over 2 weeks until your memorial run. I love the name of this race, Finish the Run, and I love the slogan, Run with Intention. Ravi, I run with intention for you every time I lace up my running shoes. I am not fast, but I still love the sensation that running gives me. It brings me closer to you. There is another race coming up called Brave like Gabe. She was a local runner who passed of brain cancer a few years ago. Her run is designed to raise money for rare cancers. I may run this race as well. Races have gotten expensive, but I am happy to run them when they are used to raise money for good causes. I can’t think of a better cause than fighting cancer.

Your daddy is out at the airfield today and the clouds look perfect for soaring. He is starting to study so he can become a glider instructor. He is also taking two classes at the community college, just for fun. Slowly, we are finding ways to leave the house. I am working 2 or 3 days a week and am enjoying it. The person I care for uses an AAC, just like you, and she is smart, funny, and sassy. You would enjoy her. Not much else is going on, but we really miss you. Cardinals make us smile. Keep soaring high and know that those of us left behind will never stop talking about you. We are keeping your memory and your legacy alive. Love you forever. Mom.

Ten Months

Dear Ravi,

It has been ten months since you left us. We miss you always and forever. Your daddy and I have taken to walking over to St Clement’s in the evening and sitting on the green. This makes us feel close to you. Before we leave, we always tie a ribbon on the prayer trellis for you and Mercury. Neither of you are ever far from our hearts. The prayer trellis began during Covid. Joy strung up clothes lines around the green, left out a box of ribbons, and invited passersby to offer up a prayer and tie a ribbon on the line. By the end of the pandemic, the green was completely surrounded in a wreath of ribbons. Prayer is a powerful thing. It brings us together when we are feeling lost and alone.

I went to church yesterday and since then have been reflecting on the many different Greek words for love. Love that parents and children have for one another is called storge. Philos is brotherly love. Yesterday in church, I saw a beautiful example of agape, selfless love. I will explain. There is an older woman in a parish who is suffering either from dementia or Alzheimer’s. She is brought to church every Sunday by another elderly woman, maybe a sister or a close friend? She sits near the front of the church and Joy brings the Eucharist to her pew as she is too feeble to walk very far. I was sitting a few rows behind her with Roberta and some choir friends. Joy was offering up the post-Communion prayer. Suddenly, this woman stood up and approached Joy at the altar. Joy did not skip a beat. She continued the prayer and held out her arms to the woman. She embraced her in a caring hug. Elizabeth seamlessly picked up the service where Joy had left off as Joy led this woman back to her pew. Gently, the two of them sat down together and the woman leaned against Joy, trusting as a child, and Joy put her arm over her shoulders and talked softly to her. The rest of the clergy recessed to the back of the church, singing a final hymn. Joy continued to sit there, holding this woman in a soft embrace. They sat there through the organ postlude and as others left the church, talking softly. Truly, Joy was a shepherd, ministering to her flock, and this one sweet lamb in particular who needed pastoral care and the knowledge that she too was loved, included, and accepted. The world must be a very scary place for her, but to her, Joy was a safe person to turn to. This, Ravi, is agape, in it’s truest form. There are many other Greek words for love, but agape and storge are the ones that are foremost in my mind.

I am starting my new job as a direct care support worker tomorrow and I think it will be a really good fit. The young woman whom I will be helping is also a graduate of St. Kate’s, just like Alissa and Lauren. Speaking of St. Kate’s, I had a great dream about you the other night. You were hanging out with the St. Kate’s basketball team, as was one of your preferred activities when Alissa was in school. In the dream you were laughing and having a wonderful time. I woke up smiling. I hope that there are basketball games in heaven. Right now, Nikik is perched on the back of my chair and the dogs are at my feet. They had good walks and runs this morning. I will run over to the church tomorrow, to say hi to you and place two more ribbons in the trellis, sealed with kisses. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.