Tag: family

Just Dreaming

Dear Ravi,

Last night I had the most amazing dream. In the dream I was in a space I had never seen before. It was definitely not earth, but I don’t know where it was. I was surrounded by happy throngs of people and dogs. Everyone was very at ease. I looked for my dogs and I looked for you. Nothing. Then it occurred to me that maybe I needed to speak a name to call them forth. I looked at all the dogs and called for Rosie. Suddenly, she and Raya showed up! I was not surprised to see Raya, as she is part of my every day life, but I have not seen Rosie since I lost her over 9 years ago. Both dogs appeared before me, in the peak of health. We played together and I showered them with kisses. I wondered if I called your name is you would appear. In a voice barely above a whisper, I called to you. “Ravi.” Just then a big yellow school bus pulled up and your hopped off! I ran to you and held you in my arms. You were real, alive, whole, and healthy. Interestingly, you did not have Sam. You did not speak with mouth words, but you did not need to. We just held each other and that was enough. The dream fades out about then, but I awoke both ecstatic and devastated. I guess that is how grief and dreams work.

Your daddy and I enjoying a very quiet day. We walked the dogs 5 miles before the incoming blizzard and have kept to ourselves. I have no need to interact with the outside world. It is too wild and busy and confusing. I feel safe at home and walking the blocks that I walked so often with you. I like looking at the Christmas decorations but have no urge to have any of my own. Our house looks like it always did. It is homey, full of books, music, pets, and a lot of fur. It looks comfortable and lived in. A place where people can relax and be their truest selves. All are welcome.

I am glad that you and Rosie are together. She was your best buddy from the time you were 4 until you were 16. I miss her. I love Jack Jack, Gloria, and Raya, but I miss Rosie. She was my heart dog, and she took excellent care of you. I am busy looking for part time employment since my last client turned out to be a certifiable nut case. I can put up with a lot, but I can’t put up with dishonesty. I finally got my paycheck for 55 hours of work, cut contacts and walked away. As you know, I do not know do well with extra time on my hands. I have to be busy and productive, hopefully helping others. In your memory, I want to make the world a better place. We are expecting a blizzard tomorrow. You never had much use for snow or cold weather, but we always had fun snuggling on the couch and hanging out with Sam.

I miss you Ravi. Today is one of those heavy grief days. I could tell as soon as I opened my eyes that today was going to be rough. Please look after your Uncle Rob and your Mercury. They are both having a tough time. We hope and pray for reconciliation with Mercury, but there are so many factors, many of them family, working against us. Someday, we hope that they will reach out.

I know you and Rosie are dancing in heaven, free of pain, fear, and cancer. I wish that I could dance with you. I will continue to work in your memory. Love you to the moon and back. You were a very good human. Mom.

Merry Christmas Boo

Dear Ravi,

From your most adoring mom, may I wish you a merry Christmas. I hope you are having a wonderful day in heaven, but I suppose every day in heaven is wonderful. As you know, Daddy and I have chosen to celebrate Christmas liturgically but not commercially. This means that we plunge ourselves deeper into our work at St. Clements, but we do not decorate, put up a tree, or exchange presents. You were never a huge fan of Christmas, anyway. You did not see the reason for upsetting your routine or bringing a tree or unnecessary boxes into the house. Though we never pushed the Santa myth on you or Mercury, we did put out stockings. You liked those because we stuffed them with your favorite kind of treats and sensory toys. You never had any interest in opening boxes or bags. If you found one thing you liked, you wandered off with it. We would let Mercury open boxes to their heart’s content but would let you go at your own pace. Sometimes, it took several days to open all your gifts and that is okay. Everyone can do Christmas in their own way.

Yesterday was busy. I had PT in the morning. Right after lunch Daddy and I went to St Clements. The first service of the day was the sensory friendly service led by Joy. We sat in a circle in the parish hall and built a creche scene out of blocks. We used the sand table as a base and as Joy read the Gospel, she invited the participants to use blocks, figures, feathers, and various paper animals to create the scene. This was greeted with much enthusiasm. We celebrated the Eucharist and sang a few songs. Everyone was engaged and happy. At the end, we chatted a bit and shared some snacks. An hour later nearly everyone left, and Daddy and I put things away. We went downstairs to visit you, and then Daddy went home to let the dogs out.

Next up was the Christmas pageant. This was a much higher energy service. Half of the children who had originally wanted to be sheep decided that they would rather be angels. Many of the angels defected and became sheep. No problem, I just stuffed of many tiny bodies in the costume of their choice. Lots of adoring parents and grandparents attended this service. It was well contained chaos. The older children did well. The sheep, shepherds, and angels hung in there. It was late afternoon, they were all tired, in need of a snack, and totally hyped up about it being nearly Christmas. Joy led all of us through the Eucharist, dispatched us in record time and dismissed us with Christmas greetings. I helped all the children get out of their costumes and put the costumes and tinsel garlands away. I popped into the chapel to say hello to you and then went home and collapsed for two hours.

I was back at church by 7:15 and robed up to be an acolyte. There were three women acolytes, 3 women lay Eucharistic ministers, and Joy, George, and a supply priest as Elizabeth had finally succumbed to the bug she had been fighting for the previous nine days. Ravi, it was a beautiful service and the female energy at the altar was off the charts. There was beautiful music, candles, chanting, and best of all, no incense! Worshiping at the altar, surrounded by other women was exactly where I wanted to be at that moment. It was an amazing blessing. Post service, I went downstairs to put my robe away. I was going to stop in the chapel one more time to say hi, but there was a bunch of older teens and young adults in there, having a marvelous time! I figured that you are a 23-year-old male, you were surrounded by your peers and did not need your mother poking her nose in on your fun. So, I blew you a kiss and headed out into the night. I think we both had a great evening.

Something you may not know about Christmas, Ravi. Twenty-five years ago, on Christmas Eve, your daddy and I got engaged. It was not a terribly romantic proposal, but it suited us just fine. We knew that we were meant to be together. Soon after, we went to a Christmas party with our friends and announced our engagement. Penny had just found a diamond ring at an antique store and decided that this should by my loaner ring until Robert and I picked out one just for me. I happily wore that ring all winter and into the early spring until we chose the one that I wear now. Penny has always had a very special place in my heart, but she made a wonderful evening even better.

So, now it is Christmas morning, and the pets are dozing at my feet. It is still dark outside. As usual, my muse picks odd times to become active. I do my best writing between 3 and 5 am. In a few hours, Daddy and I will go to the Pagoda restaurant and pick up Chinese Dim Sum and bring it to Dan and Robin and a few friends. This is our new tradition that we began last year and we like it. Later in the day, I will walk the dogs and probably take a nap. We don’t need presents and a tree, we have each other and some dear friends. I wish that you and Mercury were joining us, but I carry both of you in my heart. Ravi, today is the day that the Word became incarnate. I know that you are celebrating in heaven. Someday, we will all be together again. Until then, I love you forever and always, Mom.

December 9, 2022

Dear Ravi,

I hope you do not remember this date, though it is thoroughly etched in my mind. It was the second week in Advent. The night before I was getting you ready to bed. Daddy and I noticed an odd lump on your left arm. We wondered it it was trauma from the seizure you had had the night before. I took you into the pediatrician the next morning. She too,was puzzled, but ran an X ray. She could not tell what it was, but said she would send the pictures to the University. I had meant to drop you off at school, but you did not seem to be feeling so well, so we headed home. You spent most of the day chatting with Sam and lounging with me. Hours passed. It was late on a Friday afternoon and I was not expecting the hear anything from the clinic until Monday. I went to take the trash out. As I was outside my phone rang. It was your pediatrician. She asked if I were home. I said that I was. Her next words took my breath away; she said that you had cancer. I dropped the bag of garbage at my feet and just tried to breathe. The world seemed to have tilted on its axis. I put the garbage in the can and headed into the house. She suggested that Daddy and I take you to the ER for some scans. She recommended Children’s Masonic Hospital on Riverside. She talked softly to me but her words did not make any sense. I went inside, gave you a hug and called Alissa and Daddy. She came over immediately. Daddy came soon after. We felt as if we had dropped into the Twilight Zone.

We did take you to the ER that night. The doctor confirmed that you indeed had cancer, but did not know what kind, but would be putting in orders that night. That weekend passed in a blur. I sent you to school on Monday because we had not heard anything. Tuesday afternoon my phone started ringing and things happened very quickly. Within 48 hours we met your oncologist Dr. Greengard and the your team. A biopsy was scheduled for later that week. Chemo was scheduled to begin December 26. Thus began our 22 month journey into osteosarcoma.

My love, I hope you do not remember December 9. We will never forget it. I want you to know how incredibly strong and brave you were throughout the next 22 months. You never felt sorry for yourself. You never stopped fighting. I know you are in heaven with both Dave Coyne and Dave Evans, but Advent and Christmas will never be the same. It is cold today and about to snow. I am about to leave for work. I just wanted to drop you a note. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Just Checking In

Dear Rav,

Welcome to Advent, the Liturgical New Year! We missed church last Sunday as we were coming back from our Thanksgiving trip to the farm, but I am an acolyte at the festival of lessons and carols tomorrow afternoon. I have not been an acolyte in over 30 years, but Deacon George told me to come 45 minutes early and she could get me all ready. It will be a beautiful service.

The trip to see the Agan family and the farm was a wonderful reset and respite. We took long walks in the woods, ate tasty food, played games, counted cows, and met an hour old baby calf! That baby boy took one look at us and bolted! I had no idea that a one-hour old baby could run that fast. Mama cow looked just fine and was not worried about us. She was happily grazing and chewing her cud. She would make lowing noises at her calf, and he would bawl back. All the other mama cows and their babies would join in, and it was sheer, joyful, pandemonium. I can understand how Etta came to her love of cows and other large animals. She is one of the top equine reproductive veterinarians in the world, but her happy place is at home on the farm where she grew up.

We have snow on the ground now and the two baby trees that we planted for you have shed all their leaves and berries. I still have the rabbit bumpers up around their trunks to deter any hungry critters. I am determined that these trees will grow and flourish in the spring. The dogs and cat are not huge fans of the cold. They zip into the backyard and then come flying right back inside. Nikki, the cat, has not charged the back door in weeks. He hates getting his paws cold and wet.

I started PT for my back yesterday and am hopeful that it will help. My spinal fusion which I had done in 2019 is fine, but the spine above C4 and below C7 are starting to deteriorate. Eventually, I will need another surgery, but we are trying to kick that particular can down the road as far as we can. Right now, I am trying PT and muscle relaxants. I may also try injections, massage and acupuncture. I told my PT that my goal was to gain strength and energy, increase range of motion, be free of pain and resume running. She agreed that these were good goals. I am happy to be working with her twice a week for the month of December, or maybe longer. I will check back in the with neurosurgeon in 6 weeks to see how things are doing.

Boo, this time of year seems so empty without you and Mercury. We will celebrate Advent and Christmas by going to church but are not doing anything special otherwise. I trust that you and those that we love and miss are having a joyous celebration in heaven. Please look down on your Uncle Rob and Mercury with grace and pity. They need a lot of help and love. It feels good to be back home and talking to you. I am grateful that Roberta stopped by the chapel on Wednesday night to talk to you. She says that you are a very good listener. I will be at the church most of the day tomorrow and will touch base then. I am doing some autism advocacy today. I know you are flying free, but, oh my love, I miss you. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Moving Parts, lots of them

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday, after church I checked in with you in the chapel. When we spoke last week, I told you I was very worried about Mercury and the decisions that they were making. I asked if you to keep an eye on them and guide them as possible. At the time, I believed that they were still in Stillwater, OK. I left the chapel, and things began to happen super-fast.

Daddy was talking to his dad, your Grandpa Bob the next night. Turns out, he knew that Mercury and their partner had moved to the Twin Cities. He said he had commissioned them to do some art for a book, that he had their address but would not give it to us. He also said that they seemed very restricted and lacking a general purpose. We thanked him for the information and did not push him for more. Through other back channels we found out that they and Eli were staying with my sister, but after 2 weeks were asked to leave. If they treated her house like they treated our (in other words, as their own B and B) I can’t say that I blame her. So, to the best of my knowledge, Ravi, your nonbinary offspring has dropped out of school, lost their job, returned to the metro area and is homeless and couch surfing. We suspect that they are in an abusive situation. In no way, shape or form is Eli ever coming back in our house. Mercury is welcome, but we have a lot of work to do as a family. I will extend them grace, but I do not trust them at all. I feel that they need a lot of intense therapy as an individual, and with me and your daddy, to work out all of their feelings and get their life back on track. This is not something that I can cause to happen. Mercury has to make the first move, and that is often the scariest one.

I had the oddest series of dreams last night. In the first one you and I were laughing, and you were eating your favorite dill pickle flavored popcorn. This was lovely. We were both so happy. The scene changed and I dreamed Eli had gotten Mercury hooked on meth and all their teeth had fallen out. The scene shifted again, and I was at an Osteosarcoma Special Olympics. Many young children were there; their ports were accessed to get chemo. Some were missing arms and legs and hope. Someone was trying to get them to exercise. I screamed and ran. The final dream was in a public bathroom. A random woman walked up to me and said, “Mercury has to make their own decisions”. Then she walked away. I woke up in a cold sweat.

I loved the part of the dream where you and I were laughing together. The parts about Mercury losing their teeth and the Osteosarcoma Special Olympics were terrifying. I absolutely trust the random lady in the public bathroom saying that Mercury has to make their own decisions. This lady was absolutely correct. Mercury is an adult and has to choose what type of life they want to lead. In order to really lead a true and fulfilling life, they have to break away from Eli. I can’t hurry this along, but I can pray fervently for their safety. Ravi, I believe that you know and understand what is going on. I thank you for listening and caring. I feel that things are starting to shift. They may shift rapidly, or this may take more time. In the interim, your daddy and I have our own lives to lead. There is work to be done, blogs and books to write, trips to be taken. It still is strange having an empty nest, but I am learning to lean into this strangeness. You are never far from us. You are just slightly out of sight, out of earshot.

Ravi, my love, I hope you are dancing in heaven and eating all your favorite foods. I wish you an eternity of joyfulness. I miss you. You are the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I close my eyes. Fly free my dear Boo Bear, and we will chat again soon. All my love, Mom.

Ravi Announces Himself

Dear Ravi,

Do you know that today is the 24th anniversary of you announcing your presence? It was one of the strangest days of my life, but leave it to you to throw in some drama and flair. It was November 13, 2001 and I had an early morning teacher meeting. I went upstairs to my study to pick up some notes and I remember standing at the top of the stairs. I remember my vision coning in and feeling odd. The next thing I knew I was at the bottom of the stairs, in a pile of papers, with a concerned Daddy peering at me. I crawled back into bed and lay there a few minutes. I knew that I had broken some ribs because I could feel them grinding against each other. We decided that the best option was to go to the Emergency Room.

It was still early in the morning and not many people were in the ER. We got seen by a rather bored nurse. She asked it there was any chance that I could be pregnant. I said yes, and I hoped so. She took some blood and vanished. We sat there for 2 hours, no one checking on us. Eventually, the same nurse reappered and handed me my clothes. “You can go now” she said. “What?” I said. “What about my rib?”. She assured us that there was nothing that she could do about the ribs. I asked her, “Can you at least tell me if I am pregnant”. “”Oh honey, you are definitely pregnant”. Then she vanished. Poof. Shaking our heads I put my clothes back on and limped out the door, utterly confused.

We went home. I was thrilled to be pregnant, but confused about the rest. Later I got a call from United Hospital to come in to see an OB/GYN. I showed up for the appointment and went in alone. She was very cold. She agreed that I was pregnant and said, “You probably killed the baby by falling on him, come back in 3 months for a follow up.” I left the exam room in tears, vowing to find a better provider. Daddy was horrified. I went home and called my regular GP for an appointment the next day. On Wednesday, I went in to see her. She was disgusted by the way that United had treated me and vowed to find me good help, if I could just sit tight and wait. I agreed. An hour later she came back. She had found me an OB/GYN clinic in my network who would see me the very next day. I thanked her profusely. The next day I went to the new clinic. The kind doctor assured me that I was pregnant and that you had a strong heartbeat. I had never heard such a beautiful sound in my entire life. Ravi, you were alive and kicking. I was so proud of you. I was given a thick booklet on what to expect for the rest of my pregnancy, how to make follow up appointments every 4 weeks, and who to call if I thought anything was awry. They could not give me any painkillers for my ribs, but I did not care. I was pregnant! I returned home joyfully and decided to avoid the stairs for a while

Ravi, most women miss their period and pee on a pregnancy stick to find out if they are expecting. My period was never in the least reliable and I had to faint and fall down a flight of stairs to realize that something was up. You always did have a flair for the dramatic! The rest of the pregnancy was textbook simple, until 34 weeks when you decided to announce your early arrival. Once again, you did not refer to a calendar or anyone’s plans, you just came, but that is a blog for another day.

Last night, Daddy and I went to a state park to see the aurora. The Northern Lights were dim, but we saw them! I have been waiting almost 55 years to see them. There were also some beautiful clear stars, a herd of startled deer, and lots of coyotes singing the song of their people. I imagined you dancing in the stars and the aurora, free from your earthly bonds and this made me very happy. My dear, you are dancing with the starts with your Creator. You are free from all pain, fear, cancer, epilepsy. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

12 months

Dear Ravi,

“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts to heaven ne’er shall go.” Macbeth. I have no idea what to write, so I will invite the Holy to prompt me.

Ravi, it has been a beautiful yet heartbreaking weekend. I have felt your presence in all who have reached out to us. The people who sent cards or gifts, those who prayed for you and lit candles. Those who offered the altar flowers in your memory. My son, you have not been forgotten, and we are not alone. But, in the midst of this beauty, I am heartbroken. I miss you. I miss your infectious grin and your inane cackle when you found something to be particularly funny or absurd. I miss your hand in mine. I miss talking to you with Sam. I miss our treks to Taco Bell and Target. I have been able to get carry out at Taco Bell, but I have not been able to return to Target. That was the last outing that we took with you. You were so weak. We put you in your wheelchair and pushed you to the car. We drove you to Target and I ran inside to get a Caroline Cart. You loved those carts. We spent half an hour just roaming up and down the aisles, like we always did. This made you happy. That was the last time you left the house.

As I mentioned in an earlier epistle, your daddy and I have purchased two trees to plant in your honor. They arrive tomorrow and will make their new home in our backyard. One is a north star cherry. The other is a prairie fire crabapple. They will provide shade to the house and solace to our hearts.

After church today your daddy and I went to visit you in the chapel. Daddy said he could imagine your atoms and molecules running all over the universe. I reminded him that energy is neither created nor destroyed. You have simply moved on to a different form that we cannot see. On the day of your burial, Joy reminded us that Ravi is not here. No, you are not there in that chapel, even if that is where I continually return to visit you. You are running wild and free in the universe. Nothing can slow you down or harm you. Cancer, epilepsy, fear pain, are gone. You, my love, are free.

To all who are reading this blog, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reaching out this weekend. We can feel your love. I wish I could spread this love to all the corners of the earth and truly bring forth the Kingdom of God. It is a blustery day outside, but I have a happy cat purring at my feet. The dogs are romping around in the wind, except for Raya who is snuggled up with Robert. And all will be well, and all manner of things will be well. Be good humans. Ravi, I love you forever and always. 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.

24 years!

Dear Ravi,

Today, August 5th, 2025, is your daddy’s and my 24th wedding anniversary. That was a day of record-breaking heat. It was 103 F outside and the unairconditioned chapel at Fort Snelling was not much cooler! The wedding dress that I thought was so beautiful in February was not made for an August wedding. In all of our wedding pictures we look rather shiny. Some people said that we looked radiant. Actually, we were sweating copiously. But the vows were said, the rings were exchanged, and we agreed to be partners until death do we part. It was the beginning of the rest of our lives together. Fortunately, the wedding reception venue had AC. The cake tried to melt, but we got it cut and served just in time. No one fainted. One of my students sang for us, and being jugglers, many clubs were passed. My favorite wedding photo is not a staged photo, but one of me and your daddy passing clubs together. He was in a tuxedo, I was in veil and gown, and we were having the time of our lives.

Today is an odd day. This is our first wedding anniversary without you. You were only 6 weeks old at our first anniversary, about the size of a football with a great mop of dark curly hair. Everyone said that your hair would fall out, but it never did. Today, your daddy and I will walk over to St Clement’s to sit on the lawn and talk about you. Later we will go to Shish, one of our favorite restaurants. You always had a penchant for their fries. I have to admit, they are very good.

Tomorrow, I begin my first day of work as a PCA. I miss being a caretaker and I think this will be a good fit. I am only working about 20 hours a week, which leaves me plenty of time for other endeavors. Your daddy is also looking around for part time work. Nikki, the cat, has a 22 hour a day job, sleeping. The rest of the time he begs for snacks and chases bugs. Right now, he is on the back of my chair and the dogs are crashed at my feet. You would like our newest dog, Raya. She is very sweet. Dear Boo, I am holding you in my heart today and every day. Love you forever. Mom.