Tag: love

55

Dear Ravi,

It is snowing today and the temperature is about to drop to between 20 and 30 degrees F below zero this weekend. The dogs have taken up permanent lodging under a heated throw with me. Today is my 55th birthday and I so wish that you were here to share it with me. Do you know why my 32nd birthday was so special? It was my first birthday as a new mom! Pictures show me 23 years younger, exhausted from little sleep, and utterly jubilant. You were the center of my world. In another year, Mercury would join us, and the two of you would become the center of my world. I dreaded my birthday last year. I did not want to move on from age 53 to 54. When I was 53, I could still hold you in my arms and tell you how much I loved you. Honestly, I can only remember bits and pieces of the last year. This is one of the many reasons I keep a journal. I look back at prior entries and marvel at the things that I wrote, things that I no longer remember. There were good times of travel and dear friends. There were also days of deep grief when I couldn’t even leave the house. I honor both of those memories.

Today was a good day. Daddy knows the way to my heart. He brought my roses, good coffee and new running shoes. I received cards from many dear friends. I feel loved, and not too completely wrecked. I am amazed how good the new running shoes feel! One is supposed to rotate out old shoes after about 400 miles. This poor pair of shoes has carried me for at least 625 miles. When I took them off and pulled on a new pair of Saucony Triumph my feet gave an audible gasp of relief. Perhaps I should rotate my shoes more regularly. Because of all the snow and ice, I am afraid to walk outside. I don’t want to fall and reinjure my back. I did get in about 2 miles just pacing around stores today. That helped. We are going to warmer climes next week and I look forward to daily walks and hikes. I miss moving my body. The treadmill helps, but I really want to feel warm air on my face and be able to work up a good sweat. I miss sunlight! It feels like we have not seen the sun in weeks.

Thank you for being a most beautiful part of my life. It is hard to pick up the pieces and keep on going. If there is cake or really good coffee in heaven, by all means, please have some for me. Gloria is being very snuggly these days and can often be found on my lap under a heated blanket. Jack Jack is his usual merry self. Raya is becoming much braver. She is learning sit and shake. She is Daddy’s velcro dog, which is exactly what I wanted to happen when we adopted her 13 months ago. You would like her. She is very sweet and silly. That’s all I have for right now. I hope you are dancing in heaven with Dave Coyne and Dave Evans. The three of you were dear, beautiful people. I love you forever. Mom.

Muted?

Dear Ravi,

The world is going nuts. There are ICE agents all over the metro area and beyond. Ordinary citizens are being dragged from the cars and disappeared. Our so called “president”, I will not say his name, thinks that our lovely Somali community is garbage and they should all be deported. The vast majority of them are US citizens. I think of the awesome nurses and aids who took such good care of you at Masonic Children’s Hospital, many of them were people of color. I fear for them. Minnesota is a place for everyone. Our diversity makes us stronger. The only thing we do not need is ICE.

Today, Daddy and I filled up the SUV with groceries and supplies and took it to your beloved Bridge View School. We have been a part of that community for nearly 19 years. As you know, most of the students there are children of immigrants and their parents are afraid to leave their homes to take them to school, to go to work, to get groceries, etc. BVS was oddly and eerily silent. The doors were locked. The once busy, bustling halls were devoid of students. A few staff with walkie talkies were near all the doors, ready to report any sign of danger. It broke my heart. We delivered our groceries, diapers, and wipes, promised to be back again with more supplies next week, and drove away. I felt like I left a piece of me behind. We love BVS and will always support them, as they supported and loved you from the time that you were 5 years old until you passed away at age 22. They are good people.

Much to my amusement and disgust, I found out that Facebook is muting all of my blog posts. Apparently, the algorithm does not like someone who writes about peace, loving one’s neighbor, autism, or God. Your daddy and I are pacifists! I do not see myself as a threat, but I hope to be a light bearer. I want you to be remembered. I want to talk about autism and osteosarcoma. I reached out to many of our friends and asked them to go to my website and subscribe to our blog. It’s free, I hope it is hope giving, and I want parents of autistic children to have a safe place to come.

It is very cold here. The sidewalks are extremely slippery. I have not walked the dogs in weeks. I am too afraid of falling and of someone possibly hurting our dogs. If Kristi Noem shot her own dog, what would stop an ICE agent from taking a pot shot at one of ours? The ordinary world is no longer ordinary.

Ravi, you were one of the bravest people I have ever known. Please help me to be brave. I want to keep reaching out, delivering groceries, helping people through our church. I told you how happy I was to see a church full of immigrants last Sunday. I hope they felt needed and loved and will keep coming back. God is love. St. Clement’s is love. I have checked in with all the people who helped me care for you and they are all safe right now. I will continue to do daily check ins. I know that Mercury is somewhere in the Metro area and I pray that they are safe, too. These are very strange and difficult times. I miss you profoundly but rejoice that you are safe in heaven with other dear friends and relatives who have gone before and after you. I will hold you in my heart until I can hold you in my arms. Love you forever, 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.

Health Insurance?

Dear Ravi,

I am on hold with MNsure. I have been on hold for 45 minutes. I applied for health insurance last week. Today I received a letter saying that my application was denied as I am deceased and already have different insurance. Pardon my language, but WTF? How can I be both dead and have other health insurance? This makes no sense at all. I have spent hours upon hours on hold with different health insurance agencies over the last 2 weeks, trying to prove that I will need health care in January, that I am not dead, and I have, in fact, paid the bills for my cobra on time and they can’t just take my insurance away. This is crazy. Are things less nuts in heaven, because things are bat guano crazy down here, and don’t even get me talking about all the trash coming out of Washington DC.

I do have good news. I start a new caretaking position tomorrow for a very nice lady. She is neuro spicy, like us, and seems like a lot of fun to be around. I will help keep her organized, help her with chores, and drive her to medical appointments. Thankfully, this job does not involve any heavy lifting. My back is still very grumpy, and it is another 16 days until I see the neurosurgeon who will hopefully take me seriously. I have not run in weeks, but I am walking the dogs and your dad, getting in about 35 miles per week. Like you, I was never very good at sitting still. To be happy, I have to have fresh air and movement in my day, and meaningful work. For me, caretaking is very meaningful work. I loved caring for you, and others as well.

Update Ravi, I got through to MNSure and they said that no, I am not dead, but I need to call Ramsey County. Of course, they are experiencing a high volume of calls so I am back on hold and writing to you. I wish I had something cheerier to write you about than the state of US health care. Thank God for Minnesota Assistance, or MA, which is what you had. Because of our wonderful state and governor, we never paid a dime for your 22 months of care. Cancer care often can bankrupt people. It is so wrong, and so cruel. We are also blessed with an outstanding social worker who dealt with the insurance company while your daddy and I cared for you.

Success! Ravi, I finally got a live person at the Ramsey County number. I told her I was very much alive and that I would not have any other insurance after the end of this year. She was really nice, and we both had a good laugh. I hope I am done with phone calls and dealing with people today. I just want to hang out with your daddy and our pets. Thank you, my love, for listening. Please keep an eye out for Mercury, they are in a really bad position. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

All There Is

Dear Ravi,

Our good friend Roberta came over last night with the candle she lit for you in Durham Cathedral, while on her trip to England and Scotland. Apparently, you have been quite the traveler! She lit the candle for you in Durham and said prayers for you. When the candle had burned down, she scooped it up and put it in her coat pocket. You went on wonderful walks all over England and Scotland. You had the best tour guide ever! It probably is a lot cooler there than when you were hanging out with Alissa in Hawaii, but you had a nice warm pocket to ride around in.

After Robert left, I got out your cardinal candle holder that Laurie gave me. I put your candle and a fresh one inside and lit the flame. For a while, I just held space for you. Later, I began listing to an Anderson Cooper podcast called All There Is that had been recommended to me. I generally do not like podcasts as I prefer to get my information via reading plain text. This, however, was different. Anderson Cooper is easy to listen to. He interviews various people on grief as he tries to figure out his own losses and his place in the world. Two of the people he interviewed were President Joe Biden and Stephen Colbert. I was very eager to hear their particular takes on grief. Grief is savage and feral but cannot be denied. Colbert sees it as a tiger. He did not want a tiger, but the tiger chose him. Grief/Tigers can do extraordinary amounts of damage, but “Damn it, it’s my tiger.” Grief cannot be stuffed away, but must be lived with, shared, talked about and walked beside. I will definitely listen to this podcast again, and other ones in the series. It is my way of making space for both you and for my grief of you. Eventually, the candle burned down, and I was just left with my memories. I remember the good times and the hard times. I remember how incredibly brave and strong you were. I remember the day you flew free. If I could go back in time with you, I would choose the year you were 19. Your seizures were under control. Cancer was nowhere on our radar. You had Sam and you were learning to truly communicate. Even though parts of that time were during Covid, you were surrounded by family and friends that loved you and wanted only the best for you. I hold onto that particular time frame in my mind. You were so alive, well, thriving. I felt that there was nothing that you could not do. You voted in a democratic president and we both whooped for joy when he won. All was good.

This Sunday is All Saints Day. We will have a requiem service at church that afternoon. Beautiful music will be played and memories shared. The pictures of all the saints who have passed on from St Clement’s will be hung on the walls. It may seem odd to be looking forward to such a somber service, but I truly am eagerly anticipating you. Ravi, you were so loved, and your memory lives on strong. As long as I draw breath, you will live in my heart forever. I rejoice in the thought of you tramping all over Scotland with Roberta. You always were peripatetic, not one to stay home. I sense you most when I am outside, when the sun dapples through the trees, when I certain chords on the church organ that reverberate through me. Fly free my son. Fly free and experience joy. I am cheering you on, for every and always.

Love,
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.

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.

I missed you, Ravi

Dear Ravi,

Your dad and I spent a wonderful week in Virginia. We flew into Richmond and stayed a few days with April and Rick, who are the husband and wife team who married us. I have known April since infancy and when she was 15 and my very first babysitter. I firmly believe that without April and Aunt Pidge, I would not have had a female to bond with. I am forever thankful. After a few days with the April and Rick we went to Fredericksburg to see Etta, Denny, Mom Sue, and Celia. Etta and I have been friends and running partners since 1991. We were roommates the year of 1992-1993. Years have gone by but we still keep in touch. We spent Thanksgiving with them last year, right after losing you, and the whole family gave us a soft place to land. This was a happier trip.

It is haying season in Virginia and all farmers are busy. Etta quickly taught your daddy how to drive a tractor. Red, who had come over to help said when he saw Robert driving the tractor solo, he looked “proud as a peacock”. Farming definitely is good for your daddy. He said he saw a cardinal in the back part of the field and knew it was you checking in to say “hi”. He also saw a 6 foot black snake, tons of bunnies and some hawks. I saw dozens of dragon flies which told me that Jonathon was nearby. The next day was time to bale hay. We got several turns of the 200 acres done before the baler decided to up and quit. We all spent a lot of time pulling hay out of the gears and trying to convince it to go again. No luck. Red and Etta went back to Red’s farm to get his baler and got some more of the field done before it got dark. When Mom Sue was not baling hay she was kicking my rear end in Scrabble. It was so fun to tag after her, doing farm wife chores and listening to her stories. After a competitive game of Scrabble, we went back out in the field to rake hay. She is a very spry 78-year-old who can rake twice as much hay as I can without missing a beat. Truly amazing.

That night your daddy and I took Denny and Etta out for Mexican. All of us were too tired to even think about preparing a meal. By 10 pm we were all sound asleep in bed. Farming will do that to you. Two of the three mornings we were there, Etta and I got up at 6am and ran trails. Sweet boy, I have not trail run since 2023 and it was awesome. I can still run! I am not fast, I am not pretty, but I can chug right along. Running trails with my best friend gave me such unspeakable joy.

We returned yesterday and the pets were very happy to see us. I immediately reserved Chris, our house sitter, for Thanksgiving week so we can return to Virginia. Last night I heard from Celia that Red’s baler had caught on fire. Luckily, they were able to move the tractor away in time, a fire truck came, and no one was hurt. All good things. Oh, I forgot to tell you, the other morning on the way to work, Denny got hit by a buck. It dented in the driver side door and made the front fender look most unhappy, but he is okay. They have a rental car as his car will be in the shop for a couple or weeks.

So, my dear boy, that is the summary of our last week. I am glad you and Jonathon made it to Virginia. Apparently, my southern accent has come back. People keep commenting on my “cute accent”. I guess that they are not used to people who say y’all, or ma’am. Oh well, we will see how long my accent stays. I rather like it. Ravi, I love you tons and miss you. I know that you are flying free. I will look for you with the cardinals. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Nine months

Dear Ravi,

It has been nine months since I held you in my arms, kissed you goodbye and let you fly free. Sometimes, nine months seems like forever, other times it seems like it was just yesterday. Time and grief are peculiar that way. Today we are going to celebration of life ceremony for our friend Dave. He was another person whom your Daddy and I held in our arms, along with his loving niece Laurie, until he took his last breath. I have to admit, Boo, Daddy and I think that we have said enough goodbyes and done enough end-of-life care for a good long time. I know that you and Dave are dancing in heaven, but those of us on earth miss you deeply.

I am slowly easing back into the work world. I have had interviews this week for both a tutoring job and a care taking job. I don’t want to work more than 25 hours a week, and I won’t do end of life care. I need to get out of the house a bit and engage with the outside world.

The exciting news is that your daddy, a dear friend of mine, and I are planning a trip to Spain in 2027. We want to hike El Camino. There are several people at St. Clement’s who have done this pilgrimage, and I am eager to talk to them about their adventures. I have never been to Spain, and I love to hike. I would love to do a pilgrimage for you, Boo Bear. I have no idea if cardinals live in Spain, but I am positive that you will check in while we are on our journey.

I need to get ready for Dave’s celebration of life. I hope that you and he are having grand adventures in heaven. The dogs are happily curled up at my feet. The cat is purring. For the moment, life is peaceful. I miss you tons.

Love, Mom.