Tag: family

Farewell Floor 5

Dear Ravi,

Daddy was talking to a former employee on Floor 5 at Masonic Children’s Hospital. Do you remember the hospital, or was that part of your life blissfully erased from your memory? We spent weeks, sometimes months there. Floor 5 was the oncology floor. If one had to be in the hospital, it was not a bad place. The corridors were wide and airy. There was a playroom and an exercise room. Nurses, aids, doctors, and therapists were always popping in and out. We could keep the door open and hear all the chatter in the hallways. Your door was adorned with stickers by the nurses and had a large window in it. When you were feeling up to it, we could take you and your IV pole and walk laps. 6 laps around the ward made one mile. You were usually good for 1 or 2 laps, passing the nurses at their stations who cheered you on. There were daily visits from therapy dogs and a family room with snacks and a coffee maker. Now, do you remember Floor 4? I hope that you do not. I wish that I could erase it from my memory. Floor 4 was the isolation ward. One could not keep the door open without an alarm going off after 2 minutes. There was not a window in the door. It was like being placed in solitary, or on the dark side of the moon. We were cut off from everything. We were only on that floor a few times, until they could find us a room on Floor 5, where you belonged. One could not even keep food in the room on Floor 4 and there as no family room, no sense of community.

Anyway, on to the gossip. The employee I mentioned earlier said that 2 of your favorite nurses had retired after 35 years of service and that the oncology floor had been moved down to Floor 4. This move had been loudly protested by all the nurses, doctors, and aids on Floor 5. No one wanted to move, and their reasons to stay put were good. Easier patient access, a strong and thriving team, patients were much happier there. Sadly, their protests were ignored by administration and the move went forward. Many nurses and several doctors resigned and found jobs elsewhere. The comradery and never say never spirit of the floor was killed off in one fell swoop. Sweetheart, I am so glad this did not happen when we were at Masonic. I will never say that a hospital is autism or sensory friendly, but Floor 5 was as close as I have ever seen. Even though your visits stretched to over a month at times, you never seemed to mind being there. You liked the doctors and adored the nurses. Floor 4 was sheer misery. You are a social creature, even under the harshest of chemotherapies, and you loved your interactions with the nurses. Without a doubt, they were some of the finest nurses that I have ever seen. On Floor 4 nurses only came in to check on you every few hours and never stayed. On Floor 5 nurses and aids popped in and out all day, sometimes to check on you, other times just to visit. We had a keyboard in our room and I could practice piano. The familiar music soothed you and people passing in the hallway often paused to listen.

Ravi, do you remember Masonic? It was 22 months of your short life. We met nurses that I will always admire and pray for. I hope you remember their love for you. I hope that you do not remember the harsh chemotherapies, the kidney failure, the nausea and the pain. Let Mommy hold those memories for you. You can put them down. You are free from hospitals, disease and any pain. The comradery and spirit of Floor 5 will always remain in my memory. The nursing staff there was extraordinary. I feel terribly sorry for the children who are cancer patients there now, isolated on Floor 4.

Honey, it is 3:30 am and I have no idea why I am even awake. As always, my muse has her own clock, and she usually wakes up at times where I would rather be asleep. In 4.5 hours, I have to be back at the endodontist office with my silly tooth. I am taking Tylenol and Ibuprofen around the clock, but the tooth is still throbbing. If the infection does not clear up, I may have to go inpatient for IV antibiotics. I would greatly like to avoid this. Home is where my heart is, with the dogs, cat, and hedgehog. With Daddy, my books and journal and laptop. Does heaven keep time, or is always a bright, shiny new morning, brimming with possibility? I pray that your possibilities are endless and you are experiencing nothing but joy. I miss you and love you, Mom.

A Heavenly Anniversary

Dear Ravi,

It is hard to believe that two years ago you left us. Our entire day, yesterday, was devoted to you. We went to church in the morning, where I had a made a memorial offering of altar flowers. They were beautiful. We sat with friends. Your name was mentioned during the prayers of the people. We tried to go downstairs to the columbarium, but someone was having a counseling session, and we did not want to interrupt them. Instead, we leaned against the outside wall and gave you our blessings. Outside, it was a beautiful, but unseasonably warm day. We decided to go to Gertens to look for a bird feeder. We found and a perfect feeder and also a small present for Penny. We took the long way home on River Road and past Bridge View and Focus Beyond, just to look at the beautiful foliage. It was stunning.

After a quick rest at home, we hung the feeder full of seed above the back patio. The seed we chose is supposed to be a favorite among cardinals. I have not seen any birds yet, despite my best efforts. Yes, your mom was in the back yard, calling, “Here birdy, birdy, birdy, free food!” I am certain that in due time our feathered friends will show up. The kitty is very excited. He never goes outside, but he sits on my reading chair and watches what is going on out of doors. I call it his kitty TV.

As a quiet nod to you, we ordered dinner from Carbone’s pizza. We got a full topping pizza and cheesy bread, your favorite. Lauren, Andrew, and baby Cora came over to share the feast. Having a busy, happy 14-month-old in the house was the best therapy ever! Cora is walking, babbling, using baby sign, and loves to read books. Your daddy and I immediately volunteered to baby sit her if Lauren and Andrew ever want a date without a toddler along. They accepted! The dogs were a bit surprised. They had no idea that humans came in such small sizes. Jack Jack and Raya were very good with Cora. Gloria had many opinions and had to be banished to a back room for the evening. Nikki put in a brief appearance but decided to keep his distance from the roving toddler. All in all, it was a lovely evening. It was a lovely day. We remembered you in church, got hugs from dear friends, received a multitude of texts and emails, and got to hang out with a toddler! They only thing we could have asked for, obviously, was to have you here with us, enjoying the festivities and a pizza dinner.

Ravi, you were such a wonderful part of our lives for 22 years, so vibrant and alive. Now, you are in heaven with your Uncle Rob and Eric. All of us who are left behind miss you deeply. I never want you to be in pain or fear. Cancer and epilepsy are no longer a part of your reality. Fear and pain are gone forever. I give thanks to God for your life every day. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Good Omens

Dear Ravi,

We are two days away from your 2nd anniversary in heaven, but you are popping up all over the place! As you know, our friend Eric died last week. Janet just sent me a video of a male cardinal at her feeder. I told her that you were checking in on her. I was talking to Elizabeth earlier this week about you and reminded her that you often show up as a cardinal. She had forgotten that. Two hours later she was on a zoom call on her back deck when 2 cardinals showed up in a nearby tree and started raising a ruckus. She said that she got goosebumps. I am convinced that you and cousin Joyce were right there. I told her that you only show up for people that you really like. Paul also saw you earlier this week at his feeder in Connecticut.

Today, we were shopping at Costco and I realized that they now have Caroline Carts available. I remembered how much you loved riding in those carts. The night before you passed, we took you to Target, put you in a Caroline Cart and pushed you around. As always, we ended up in the candy aisle. Even though you could no longer eat, we bought you every kind of candy that you might have liked. I cherish that memory. Later, still at Costco I found a 30 lb bag of bird seed with a Cardinal on the front. We promptly purchased it. On Sunday, after church we will go to Menards and buy a bird feeder for the front yard. I just hope that the birds get to it before the squirrels.

It’s been a brutal 2 weeks. We helped bury your uncle Rob and comfort Cindy and the boys. We returned home and less than a week late we lost Eric. His death was not at all expected. He was an amazing man and will be deeply missed. Your 2nd anniversary in heaven is in less than 48 hours. This is a lot to digest. I am happy that you are free of cancer, pain, and fear, but dear Lord, I miss you. On the 17th, we are flying to Virginia for 6 days as a respite. The plan is to go to the farm and go completely off the grid. At most, I will check my phone once a day. I promised Jenn pictures of cows. Chris will be looking after the critters here, and they adore him.

A while back Kathy told me that eventually your death will just be woven into the fabric of my life. Jenn and I both refute this idea. My life goes on, but there are 2 gaping holes in the fabric of my life, one for you and the other for Mercury. I can’t tie up these loose ends or make it pretty. I think at our next session I will tell Kathy that I greatly dislike her analogy. Your death was an out of place death in the rhythm of life. Children are supposed to outlive their parents, but yet, you went first. We will honor you with flowers and prayers at church on Sunday. We will visit you in the columbarium, though Daddy and I both have the distinct feeling that you are no longer there. You are flying free. We love you forever, Mom and Daddy.

Saints of God

Dear Ravi,

It is good to be back in Minnesota. As you know, we were in Indiana for a week, supporting your aunt Cindy after the death of her husband, your uncle Rob. The funeral was beautiful and tragic. Rob liked all the “smells and bells” of a high church, so the service included incense and bells. Father Allan gave the homily and Doug, Rob’s brother, gave a beautiful eulogy. The recessional was the same as the processional at your service, I Sing a Song of the Saints of God. It seemed very fitting. Cindy said that she chose that on purpose. It is an odd time that follows the funeral of a loved one. Everything slows down and nothing seems quite real. Fortunately, your aunt is surrounded by friends and her parish. Aside from filling out paperwork, there is nothing pressing for her to do. The funeral is over. Rob is buried. Time grinds slowly and grief beats a tattoo on the heart. Please welcome your Uncle Rob to the afterlife and pray for Cindy, Robbie, and Aaron.

I am grateful to start a new month. September was the month for awareness of childhood cancers. Though I will never stop advocating about autism or osteosarcoma, I am glad that we are entering October. Having cancer on my social media feed for a month was exhausting. Your two trees are doing well. I think it is time to harvest the crab apple tree. We are coming up on your second anniversary in heaven. I have ordered altar flowers in your memory for October 11. After church, we plan to buy a bird feeder for the front yard and fill it full of seeds that will hopefully, attract cardinals. Speaking of cardinals, I just got a sweet present from Jenn, my bereavement peer. She sent me a candle in your memory and a crocheted red cardinal. They are sitting on the dining room table. On the windowsill next to me are two tiny dragons. Rob loved dragons and had been creating and hand painting them since the age of 12. There were over 2,000 dragons of all sizes in his house. Family members each picked out a dragon that spoke to them. I chose 2 baby dragons that reminded me of you and Rob. The green one speaks to me of Rob, and the red one reminds me of you. The rest of the dragons were carefully boxed up and taken to the church. At the reception following the funeral, people were invited to take home a dragon that reminded them of Rob. Many of the dragons have now found new homes. It is a beautiful tribute to their creator. Rob will live on in the hearts of those who knew and loved him.

I miss you so much, Boo. I wish that you and Rob were here, healthy and happy. You are my first thought when I wake up and my last thoughts as I drift off to sleep. I continue to submit my manuscript to agents, but I have not gotten any bites yet. I will continue to advocate about autism and osteosarcoma. I will continue to tell your story. Love you forever, Mom.

The Algorithm

Dear Ravi,

Sometimes I really hate social media. As soon as you were diagnosed, my feed was flooded with cancer information, some of it useful, most of it laughably inaccurate. Newsflash: coconuts do not cure osteosarcoma. If a clinic does not accept any insurance, they are bogus. Your autism and your cancer were not caused by vaccinations.

In the 6 days following your Uncle Rob’s death, Facebook has inundated me with hospice and grief videos. Some are fitting, some are outrageous. I am still mad at social media for sending me hospice videos a year before we ever considered it for you. I guess they figured a kid with stage IV osteosarcoma could not last forever, so I should take this as an omen. Instead, I snoozed these videos for 30 days, again and again and we fought harder. Gradually, over the past 2 years these videos have thinned out a bit. I see more things that I like; such as Aussies being silly, cats being snarky, and goats doing yoga. You know, the things that bring a smile to my face. I am tempted to either throw my phone out the window or sage the living room. I did snooze St. Jude’s today because I think they are a cult. They may not charge a cent for treatment, but their hospital only has 70 beds available, they cherry pick who they will treat, and they will not let patients or parents seek a second opinion. These are all deal breakers for me. You got excellent care at Masonic Children’s and Mayo and I have no regrets. I also have a lifetime supply of return address stickers because a family member sent them a donation over 4 years ago and they refuse to leave me alone. My money will always go to The Osteosarcoma Institute. Period.

It is a rainy day today. Between showers, Daddy and I walked all 3 dogs. I am slightly damp right now, but happy. Your baby trees are rejoicing in the rain and looking very lush and green. I am going to do some writing this afternoon and some cleaning. I am fully acknowledging my grief for both you and Uncle Rob, but I also feel the need to be productive. I got a very sweet text from a friend last night. She had donated to OSI and on the 2nd anniversary of your death will light a Yartzheit candle in your memory. I am deeply touched.

We will leave for Indiana next Wednesday. Rob’s memorial service is next Saturday. We will remain in Clarksville a few days to give Cindy, Robbie, and Aaron our company and support. Tomorrow is our first day of Youth Formation at St. Clement’s and I am excited to be back in the classroom. I hope that you enjoy the noise and happiness emanating from our classroom down the hall to the chapel. Please give your Uncle Rob a huge hug from all of us. May light eternal shine upon you both. Love, Mom.

Good night, sweet prince

Dear Ravi,

At 8:21 this morning your Uncle Rob ascended into glory and joined you in heaven. “Good night, sweet prince. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” He fought a long hard fight against cancer. I refuse to say that he lost that battle, but that medicine failed him. The tumors came fast and furious in the last 18 months, particularly in the past few weeks. When we saw him in August, he was in the hospital, but still sharp and working remotely. He was bright, engaging and interested in the world around him.

Do you remember the axolotl that sits on the back of our living room sofa? Your Uncle Rob sent that to you because he believed in the healing power of stuffed animals. One day, shortly after you were diagnosed, a small package showed up on our doorstep. It was addressed to you. We opened it the box up and a 3-foot-long axolotl sprang forth from the box. There was no note, nothing to explain where it came from. We were charmed but dumbfounded. I sent a picture to your Aunt Mags, a wildlife biologist, and she concurred that it was, indeed, and axolotl. I sent a picture to my cousin Paul, a veterinarian. We often send each other silly gifts. Nope, not him. Still completely perplexed, I put a picture of it on social media and asked if anyone knew where it came from. A bit later, your Aunt Cindy remarked that Rob had seen it online and thought it was cute. She had no idea that he was actually going to buy it! Mystery solved. The axolotl was promptly dubbed Rob and spent much of its time either lounging on the back of the sofa or on your bed. You loved it. After you passed, I worried that the stuffed Rob would become lonely, so he has inhabited the back of the sofa ever since. When I look at it, it never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Ravi, I want you to know this. Your Uncle Rob fought cancer with a tenacity that I have never seen before. Even in the last weeks of his life, he was still looking for another treatment or potential cure. He never gave up. He worked up until almost the very end. He leaves behind scores of bereaved people; his family, his friends, his coworkers and members of St. Albans. He will not be forgotten, he lives on in our hearts, just like you do. Please welcome him to heaven and give him a giant hug. We are traveling to Indiana early next week to comfort Cindy, Robbie, and Aaron. I believe that the funeral is next weekend. We will stay for a few days after that, just to lend support. The best things that our friends ever did for us after we lost you was just to show up. We were deep in mourning, but we never once felt alone. We want to give that support to Cindy.

It is a grey, blustery, windy day here which rather matches my mood. The day after you died was blue and beautiful. I could not comprehend how that sun continued to rise and set when you were no longer in our world. Today, it feels like heaven is crying, even though Rob is being greeted with a grand reception at the heavenly gates. My love, I miss you and I miss your Uncle Rob. Take care of each other. Until we meet again, love, Mom.

Hi Ravi!

Good afternoon! Daddy and I were out walking Gloria when we saw you flitting from tree to tree in your perky red cardinal form. You seemed to be enjoying the cooler weather. Today, Daddy and I are in recovery mode. Last night we went to the State Fair for the first time in over 2 decades. I think the last time we attended Daddy had you in a backpack and I had your sibling in a front carrier. You thought that the goats were funny. After you were able to walk, we never went back. Huge crowds of people overwhelmed you, and I was terrified of losing you. I did take Mercury to the fair when she was 5. I put them in the jogger and pushed them around the grounds. We rode the sky needle and checked out the baby animals. After an hour, they were done. Going to the fair without kids was a new experience. We rather liked it. I was not worried about anyone overheating, melting down, getting lost, throwing up, etc. We parked about as mile away and walked in. We viewed the arts and crafts and textiles building. We roamed the 4H building and looked at the kid’s crafts. Daddy found his favorite strawberries and cream and devoured them. We split a coke. We sat on a bench and watched the crowds go by, leaning up against each other. As it got later, we wended our way to the grandstand.

Weird Al was the featured performer last night. I have loved him since the 1980s when he was on Dr. Demento. If we do not own all of his albums, I am shocked. Daddy and I have wanted to see him live for decades and last night we got our wish. Al sang, danced, played the accordion and parodied other artists for well over 2 hours. The man was literally nonstop! At 10 pm he wrapped up his performance with some incredible encores and then the fireworks started. I don’t think I have been to a fireworks show since 1998. Daddy and I spent the entire evening smiling and laughing. I don’t think we have done that in years either. I guess it just goes to show you that we all have the capacity for deep grief and for deep joy. I never stop missing you, but last night showed us that it is okay to feel happiness. You were never a homebody, and you would not expect us to wither up at home either. The world is made to be explored!

After the fireworks we drifted off the grounds with thousands of other fairgoers and walked back to the car, gabbing about what a great concert it had been. This morning, we slept late. Daddy and I are introverts. Being around throngs of people takes all of our energy. Today is just a quiet day to look for you flying about while we walk the dogs. Today is a day for laundry and cleaning. Today is a time to be quiet.

Tomorrow, I have a Sunday School meeting before church and then Daddy and I are heading back to the fair with Laurie. There is an exhibition of draft horses doing barrel racing. That sounds so incredibly goofy that we just have to see it. I also want to go to the barns and see all the 4H kids showing their animals. I am not really interested in fair food as everything seems to center around dairy, but I am very curious how many fair foods can be served deep fried and on a stick. One of our friends highly recommends the key lime pie on a stick. In a world that feels like it is crashing into madness, there is something deeply human and affirming about just being at the fair. We were not ready to do it last year, but this year I count it as a blessing.

Keep flying high my son. I see you in the cardinals and the monarch butterflies. I miss you but I delight that you were part of our lives for 22 years. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Ravi Dive Bombed Me!

Dear Ravi,

Truly you were feeling your oats today! I had not seen you in several days. A friend asked me if cardinals migrate, but I said that I don’t think all of them, as I have seen them hanging around in the winter. Anyway, this morning started off quietly enough. I took Jack Jack and Gloria on a 5 mile walk along the river with a friend. We walked to Dave’s bench and then took a little trail that carried us along a creek. It is so dry here there was scarcely any water to be seen or hears. On my return home Raya seemed to have a serious case of FOMO. She wanted to go for a walk with Daddy and me. Daddy suggested that I slip out the back door and he would take her out the front. We are working on getting her more used to going places with Dad. So, I walked around the house and was waiting on the top steps for them to emerge. Suddenly, a male juvenile cardinal flew out of the tree next to our bedroom and was aimed straight at my knees! At the last possible moment, he shot upwards into my face, so we were seeing eye to eye. Clearly, this cardinal was living his best life. After giving me the hairy eyeball he swooped into the neighbors’ tree. As he bopped off, I could swear I heard him laughing. I firmly believe that it was you, just popping in the say hello, checking out your home, and jubilantly flying off again. It was so good to see you. You often come to me in my dreams, but I have had fewer face to face encounters. Hello!

As you know, we were in Indiana 2 weeks ago helping your Aunt Cindy as Rob was once again in the hospital. Shortly after we left, he was transferred to an acute care rehabilitation facility. He stayed there for 2 weeks, Cindy was trained in his cares, and he came home. Sadly, he lasted at home less than 15 hours. He became spastic and non-responsive and Cindy once again called 911. He spent much of the day in the ER. CT scans showed a brain bleed and numerous lesions on his brain, including one on the parietal lobe. After a long day he was transferred into the ICU. Today he is much more alert and cheerful and should be moved into the regular neurology ward. He is adamantly in favor of doing whole brain radiation, though it may only garner him a month or more left to live. Being your uncle Rob, he is still fighting, still looking forward. I ask you to join in Cindy’s prayer that Rob can remain being Rob, with little pain, until he feels that it is time to leave. Please hold him, Cindy, and your cousins Aaron and Robbie in your prayers. We are leaving town soon to help them, returning at the very end of August. Chris, our amazing pet and house sitter will be holding the helm here. No need to dive bomb him, he is a lovely person and speaks fluent Australian Shepherd.

Thank you so much for surprising me today. I was a wee bit startled, but more delighted than everything else. I will continue to look for you. Jen says that there is a Democrat running for office in her town and that his name is Ravi! She voted for him. Truly you are famous. I keep receiving refusals from agents, but one was actually really nice. She said that your story was compelling and it did not quite fit her needs, but that there are tons of other agents who might like it and to keep trying. Ravi, I will keep trying.

The dogs are at my feet, Daddy is making dinner, and all is peaceful. The only thing missing is your and Mercury. I miss and love you both. Mom.

Cardinals sing for me

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday was a lovely yet bittersweet day at church. There was beautiful music and a light breeze wafting through the open windows. There were only women serving at the altar. The organ swelled and billowed amazing music. In the midst of this beauty, I realized once again that I can no longer sing. I have not sung since you left us. I have not played the piano since you slipped away. My musical muse is gone. I am grateful that my writing muse has stayed the course, but I can no longer sing or practice piano. Both have been a huge part of my life since I was a little kid. Suddenly I am thinking of the song The Day the Music Died. Ravi, my musical muse died with you. When I am joined with you again, I will sing. Until then, I listen to and enjoy the choir and the organ. Daddy still plays the piano occasionally, and I enjoy listening to him. I am afraid if I touch the keyboard I will crack into one thousand little pieces.

After church I slipped down to see you. The chapel was cool and inviting. I spent a long time with my hand on your niche, talking to you and praying for you. My love, I miss you.

The highlight of the weekend was a visit from Karen, Hannah’s mom. We spent a wonderful day together. She gifted the dogs with toys and us with a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle that she said reminded her of you. The puzzle is a clothes line full of goofy socks, surrounded by birds and flowers. We are absolutely charmed. Daddy and I got it out last night and got most of the edge pieces sorted out. We figure it will take about a week to finish, and it is time very well spent as it reminds us of you. The major battle is keeping Nikki off the table and not letting him bat the puzzle pieces. The dogs are not much interested.

I found out that Shirley was the one who sent us the fuzzy cardinal blanket. Thank you, Shirley. It was so good to talk to you the other evening. The blanket is the perfect weight to curl up under while I am writing. Adding to the cardinal motif, I heard a pair of cardinals singing yesterday. Cardinals have now become my voice. I can’t sing, but they certainly can!

All of this is to say that I love you and miss you. Our friends remember you fondly. Your legacy lives on in the hearts of those who love you. You are never alone. I am still trying to find an agent to represent your book. Mostly what I am getting is agents that say I have an interesting concept but they are not looking for memoirs at this time. Sigh. I will keep trying. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Democracy, Ravi!

Dear Ravi,

Tuesday was a great day for democracy in Minnesota, and other states that had primary elections. To our delight, Peggy Flanagan beat out Angie Craig and will run for MN senator in the fall, hopefully replacing Tina Smith who is stepping down. Amy Klobachar handily won the Democratic vote for Senator. Mike Lindell, the pillow guy, is crying into this pillow and claiming fraud. He is blaming everyone from immigrants to people in Venezuela. Whatever, dude. It was a great day for progressive democracy in our state. I know that you would be proud. After a few victory parties, it is time to focus our attentions on the midterm elections in November. You know as well as the rest of us how important those are. Once again, I will cast my ballot with you and Mercury firmly in mind. I certainly hope that they have enough sense to get out and vote. Whether they know it or not, their future well -being is on the line.

Yesterday was a good day. I got together with Robin for coffee and Pam for a dog walk. She is still trying to find a home for her foster puppy, Callaway. He is super cute and smart. If you know of anyone in the universe who needs a lovely puppy, please send them to Pam or to Safe Hands Rescue. Today, all three of our dogs have dates. I am walking Jack Jack and Gloria with Lucia at 8am and then Raya with Laurie at 10 am. Laurie and I will meet at the nature preserve. Do you remember when we used to walk there and check out the baby owlets? To me, that seems both like yesterday and a lifetime ago. I hope that there are owlets in heaven.

I talked to Jenn on Monday about being a peer bereavement mentor. I will do the training in November. I want other bereaved parents to know that they do not have to walk this path alone. You and Zach will always be remembered. Other parents who have suffered a loss should know that their precious child is remembered as well. I remember you when I see something funny and I laugh. I remember you when I cry out in anguish because you are so missed. You are my first thought when I awaken and my last thought as I drift off to sleep. Ravi, as we fight for a more progressive democracy, know that I always carry you with me. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.