Dear Ravi,
Do you remember how we always used to wear yellow on scan days for good luck? You would wear your Boston Marathon t shirt, and we would both wear our yellow No One Fights Alone bracelets. I ordered a dozen of those bracelets when you were first diagnosed. You and I always had one on, and we gave the rest of them to those that we love. When you passed, I slipped the bracelet off your wrist and sent it to Mercury. It was battered and worn, much like your body, but it was also a symbol of your resilience. For the last 3 years I have worn the yellow bracelet for you and a pride bracelet for Mercury. I have never taken them off, until last weekend.
Last weekend was the annual White Elephant Party. I have not attended a Christmas party in years, but it was a lot of fun. As I was preparing for the party, I realized that though I was dressed up, my Ravi and Mercury bracelets looked rather sad and worn. I slipped them off for the night and wore a dressy bracelet I have not put on in over three years. When I returned from the party, I slipped my old bracelets back on and felt like I was returning home.
Yesterday, I got together with Penny and Laurie to make bread. We had a lovely time. I realized that in order to work the dough, I would have to take off my watch, bracelets, and rings. I have not taken my wedding bands off in years. As I was slipping these things off, the yellow bracelet fell to pieces in my hand. I have worn it night and day for three years and I guess it finally gave up. For a moment I was very sad. I felt that I had lost you. I sat with that feeling and then carefully put the bracelet in my pocket. Ravi, I have not lost you. You are my constant memory. When you were in my womb, our cells intermixed. You became a part of me, and I became a part of you. We cannot be separated. The yellow bracelet was just an outer symbol of your strength and resilience. It has now crumbled into dust, but your memory lives strong. I put the pieces of the bracelet in my jewelry box where I can keep it safe. I don’t need a plastic bracelet to remind me of you; you are firmly in my heart.
Christmas is coming and it is a strange time of year. Your daddy and I are starting new traditions. I baked bread with dear friends. We will attend the Blue Christmas service and the help at the sensory friendly service on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day, we will bring Dim Sum to Dan and Robin. I have no desire to put up a tree or to send cards. Our house is decorated with dog fur, not Christmas lights. In January, I plan to write lots of snail mail to dear friends, just to let them know how much we appreciate them. I have no season’s greetings to send, but I have a lot of love to share.
So, my love, though the bracelets that we wore together have crumbled into dust, my love for you will never fade. I carry you in my heart wherever I go. When I am doing something or going somewhere that I need to be brave, I wear a pair of your silly socks for courage. When I picked out a new pair of glasses last week, I chose blue frames because they reminded me of a pair of glasses that you once wore, and also the deep beautiful blue of your eyes. If there is an Advent or Christmas in heaven, I hope you are having the time of your life. Maybe every day in heaven is like Christmas, full of possibilities, like an unopened present. I miss you, Ravi. I love you. Please watch out for Mercury, I suspect that they are really struggling. Peace and joy. Mom.