Tag: love

Ravi in a roller coaster

Good morning, Ravi! It is Memorial Day. Today we remember George Floyd who was taken from us too soon. His murder kicked off weeks of riots and turmoil in the Twin Cities. Thick black smoke covered the metro area. There were 8pm curfews. We still cringe at the sound of low flying helicopters. I hope that you and George are running free in heaven.

A few days ago, our friend Karen sent me a hilarious video. It was a male cardinal in a tree that was being buffeted by wind. No matter how hard the wind blew, that cardinal just hung on. In fact, it looked like he was having fun! It was a birdie roller coaster! I thought of how much you loved the roller coaster at Nickelodeon Universe. (Sorry, I still think of it as Camp Snoopy. Your mama is old.) You loved the roller coaster, and you loved the swings. I loved taking you on them. It was an out of body experience for both of us. It felt like flying, just like that cardinal. Are there roller coasters and swings in heaven?

Yesterday was a good day. We got to hang out with a very fun 4-year-old and went to a party with not one, but two, dogs! Your daddy played Bananagrams and I learned a new game with dominos. We spent hours just hanging out with our friends who have known and loved you since birth. There is not soaring today, so I think Daddy is going to mow the lawn. We will walk the dogs and play with the cat. This may not sound exciting to many people, but in our minds, it is the perfect kind of day.

I am 15 days out from my surgery unless something opens up first. I don’t want to take anyone’s surgery spot from them, but I would really like to get this spinal fusion out of the way. This will be a long summer of recovery, but that is better than sitting around being nervous about the fusion. You and Gloria thought I was really boring after my last surgery, all I wanted to do was sleep! After two weeks I perked up and was more fun, but healing takes time. I should only be in the hospital one night and I will take your prayer shawl and your courage blanket with me, so neither of us are ever alone. Right now, the kitty is asleep at my feet. Gloria is working on a bone. Jack Jack is trying to decide if it is worth the risk of trying to steal the bone. Raya is keeping a wide berth. She is definitely the smartest one of the bunch. She steers clear from drama, learns tricks super quickly, and adores Daddy. I know Rosie was our heart dog, but I think you would like Raya. She is a gentle soul. Guess what?! Alissa is coming to town in a few weeks! We get to see her and Alan. That is definitely something to look forward to after surgery. She is such a bright light in this world. You were so right when you chose her as your best friend. No word from Mercury, but we always pray for their safety and a reconciliation. I miss you and love you, sweet boy. Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Dear Ravi,

This is my second attempt at a blog. I was just about to post a letter to you an hour ago when I lost my WIFI connection and poof! the blog was gone. Right then, daddy came in from the airfield with a dozen red roses for me. I am feeling very loved. Mother’s Day hits a bit different when you have lost a child, when you are estranged from a child, or both. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the number of cards, letters, notes, and gifts that I have received today. It is a complete outpouring of love. I got to talk to Jenn, my bereavement peer who wished me a “Happy F’ing Mother’s Day”, and we talked about how weird it is that you and Zack are no longer here, but we are certain that you are having a much better time in heaven. We imagined the two of you running around, eating candy, crushing on pretty girls, going to favorite places, and causing good trouble with Cousin Joyce. She is one of the few moms I can really go deep with because she intimately knows what it is like to lose a child to osteosarcoma. This is the club that no parent wants to belong to.

I clearly remember my first mother’s day. We took you to church and all the moms got flowers and a special blessing. I was so happy to be your mom and nothing can ever take away that joy. Last year I planted lots of flowers in the garden. Planting is not in the cards for me right now, due to my neck instability and the neuropathy in my hands and feet. I am hiring Daniel’s nephew to come over, pull up weeds and spread out mulch for me later this week. I love to garden but I will have to let someone else do all the work this summer. I will continue to baby my indoor plants and water your trees.

Daddy spent today out at the airfield as FOO but did not get to fly. Hopefully, he can fly later this week. I definitely want to go up in a glider this summer, but it will have to wait until late July or early August, when I am recovered enough from surgery not to wear a brace. It sounds strange to be looking forward to surgery, but I am. Surgery will hopefully fix the instability and cure the neuropathy. After my last fusion there was some post-surgical discomfort, but it was outweighed tremendously by how much better I felt almost immediately. My first thought was that I could wiggle my toes and feel all my extremities, so I knew that the surgery was successful.

Please pray for your Uncle Rob. He is having 2 major surgeries in the next 2 days. Steady the surgeons’ hands, let them successfully embolize his tumor and then rebuild his femur and hip. He should be in the hospital for about a week, and then possibly in a rehab facility after that. My God’s holy presence sit with Cindy as she waits for news from the surgeon. May God be with your cousins Aaron and Robbie. I will be lighting lots of candles and praying without ceasing tomorrow. As always, April and Rick will be joining us in prayer. I am convinced that they have a direct pipeline to God.

I wonder what Mercury is doing today and if they miss you. They never showed up for you during your illness, so I have my doubts. The people in life that show up during hardships, illnesses, and crises as the ones that you always want around you. Blood does not make you family. People that hold you in prayer and hold you in their arms are the ones that truly matter. You were blessed by so many loving people in your short life, and these same people continue to show up for Daddy and for me. We will always be grateful.

The dogs are running around the backyard. Nikki is crashed out at my feet after playing with his new catnip mouse. Raya is hanging out with daddy. Both Jenn and I agree that we have to have a houseful of pets. We thrive on the noise and the furry chaos. This is going to be a short blog as my mind is thinking one thing to write and my hands are doing something completely different. I have the feeling I will not be doing a lot of letters of query this summer as I cannot coordinate my mind and my fingers. It is a beautiful day outside. I know that you and Zack are running free where there is no fear, pain or cancer. Someday, I will hold you in my arms again. In the meantime, I will keep telling your story. I will advocate for autism and osteosarcoma. I will fight for better outcomes. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Cardinals and fusions and walks, oh my!

Dear Ravi,

Thank you for stopping by yesterday. Daddy and I were out walking the dogs and you were sitting in a nearby tree. You fluffed out your feathers, sang a few notes, then did a few aerials maneuvers. Obviously, you were having a great day. Seeing you always lifts our hearts.

Lots going on here. Remember back in 2019 when I had a spinal fusion and was really boring for a while? Well, another one is on the docket. The previous fusion, C4 through C7 is still in good shape. The problem is that C3 and C4 are most unhappy. There is not disc in that space, bone is lying on bone, and this has caused a myriad of weird neurological problems. For months, the neurosurgeon I had been seeing kept telling me that there was nothing he could do to help me. I saw a new doctor yesterday who confirmed that something was really wrong and offered me a plan forward. He will fuse C3 and C4 together, thus getting rid of the nerve pain. Obviously, this won’t happen overnight, this is going to be the summer of recovery, but I feel better knowing that I have a plan in place. Right now, I cannot turn my head, my hands are numb, and my balance leaves something to be desired. In short, I would flunk a field sobriety test. So, until at least late July, I will not be driving. When I go for walks, I will use my trusty trekking poles. I am trying to convince the animals not to run under my feet as I have an absolute phobia about tripping and falling.

Please pray for your Uncle Rob. He has two surgeries coming up, next Monday and next Tuesday. The surgeon will embolize his tumor and then recreate his hip and femur. He is such a great guy and was a wonderful uncle to you. We pray that God will guide the surgeon’s hands and lead him into recovery.

Right now, all is quiet. The pets are asleep at my feet. I feel better knowing that I have a plan for my cervical spine. Daddy is still snoozing. Your trees outside are blooming. I love you forever, Mom.

Got passed by a slow moving snail

Dear Ravi,

Your trees are blooming and very happy. Raya is doing a good job chasing the bunnies away from them. It is about 65 F and sunny outside. Great day for dog walking. More on that in a bit, it was a very slow walk. On Friday, the pain in my cervical spine reached intolerable levels and I called the nurse help line. She listened to my symptoms; inability to turn my head, numbness in my hands, loss of coordination and off the charts pain. She sent me directly to Urgent Care. For once, I got a female physician who actually listened to me, ran a bunch of tests, and did not dismiss my symptoms. She sent me off for an emergency MRI, even though I had had one back in early March. The MRI shows considerable changes. I have neck pain and head pain, bilateral hand numbness, a history of fusion, cervical myelopathy and stenosis, and hypereflexia. As she put it, “You have a lot going on.” She prescribed a course of steroids and Lyrica, which is a step up from Gabapentin. The only thing I really notice from the meds is that I feel really stupid. At least the Lyrica helps me sleep, and hopefully the steroids are reducing the inflammation. For obvious reasons, I did not make it to church yesterday. I was supposed to teach Sunday School and was very sad to miss it.

I convinced Daddy that I needed a slow dog walk today, just to get outside and feel the sun on my face. It was a super slow walk. I think I got lapped by a snail. The dogs and the kitty think that I am very boring. I feel very boring. My thoughts feel like molasses in January. I am really hoping that the surgical consult on Thursday will give me a road map forward. Dr Hutter, who saw me on Friday, looked at my past notes and said that she was going to make certain that my medical team would do better. It is always nice to feel validated.

On a brighter note, I got a haircut and left at least 6 inches of hair on the salon floor. I feel much lighter and freer. Previous to this, I was feeling like a mop wearing running shoes. I also went over to visit Pam and sit in the sun with her and her dog. Driving home I realized that I should not be on the road. My dear 2009 Ford Fusion does not have back up cameras, and I cannot turn my head to see where the traffic is. As of now, Daddy is the driver for the family. He is happy because he got out to the airfield yesterday and hopes to go t0morrow. It always lifts my spirits to know that he is doing something that he loves. Please pray for your Uncle Rob who is having major surgery next week. The surgeon will embolize the tumor in his hip and femur and then rebuild it. He will be in the hospital for about a week and then possibly in a rehabilitation facility after that. The major prayer right now is that the hip and femur to not collapse on their own, as the tumor has eaten away about 90 percent of them. He is using a walker to get around and just had a chair lift put in on the stairs.

I have not seen any cardinals lately, but Karen sent me pictures of one hanging out in her backyard for Hannah’s 30th birthday. Of course I did not see you, you were at the party! To know that you are flying free and having fun always lifts my spirits. Soar high my son, know that I love you forever. Mom.

Just a Saturday Post

Dear Ravi,

Daddy is out at the airfield playing with gliders today. I am slowly cleaning the house. Nikki is upset because I cleaned his litter box and recycled all the random boxes in the kitchen that he has been playing with. I put some catnip in a bag, but he is preferring to sulk. The dogs are happy as long as I am in their line of sight and the hedgehog is snoozing. Outside, your two trees are putting out buds and the daffodils and jonquils are flowering madly. It may be a grey day outside, but there are many pretty things to look at.

Earlier this week I had a come to Jesus moment. I realized that I can no longer work, even part time. Since you have left us, I have started and then had to stop 3 separate jobs just because my body failed me. This is a very hard decision because I love to work and to help people. On the other hand, I want to preserve what is left of my body. I want to be fully present for Daddy and my friends. I want to honor your memory. I have not been able to run since October and the back and neck pain is steadily getting worse, as are the blinding headaches. I would not be helping anyone if I were to just put my head down and try to muscle my way through. In two weeks, I am having a steroid injection into my cervical spine. I am hoping that this will bring some relief. My research shows me that steroid injections work about 40% to 80% of the time. Hopefully, I will fall into this range. I can’t do many injections as it weakens bone density, and I already have a problem with that. I would like to get the injection and then return to PT to better build up the muscles around my C spine. The dogs are hoping that I will continue to take the long walks with them that they so enjoy.

Since the age of 13, I have been “Harriet the Runner”. Though I have other gifts to offer the world, I have always viewed myself as an endurance athlete. I am trying to reframe who I am, besides a person who lives in running shoes. First of all, I am a wife and a mom. You and Mercury may be far from me, but I still hold you both in my heart. I am a writer and an animal lover. I am an autism and osteosarcoma advocate. There is more to me than the miles measured by my Garmin. Your daddy did not marry me because I was an ultra-runner. I am still me, but my passions have shifted.

So, this is to say that I did a lot of thinking in the past week. There is both relief and sadness that I am no longer part of the work force. But I can rejoice when I see a cardinal. I can stop in awe and watch a beautiful sunrise. I can laugh at the antics of our pets. I can love your Daddy and our dear friends. Our work here on earth is ephemeral. Our chance to love each other in heaven is eternal. We will meet again, in pure love and happiness. I love you forever, Mom.

Happy Earth Day!

Dear Ravi,

Happy Earth Day! It is a beautiful sunny day outside. A good day to walk the dogs. On our walk yesterday we saw a beautiful male cardinal. I know it was you just dropping in to say hi. I greeted you. You sat in a tree near me, cocked your head and began to sing. Literally, I had goosebumps. It was good to see you. I miss you. Your trees are shyly putting forth buds, the daffodils are blooming and the jonquils are popping up to say hello. It has been a long dark winter, but spring in definitely here, and Minnesotans rejoice.

Lots going on here. I think I have the insurance snafu settled. Apparently, I have MA, just like you did. I have rescheduled all my doctor appointments. It feels good to be out of PHP, I was not meant to stay in one room all day long. It was very helpful, but one month was more than enough. I was planning on returning to work as a nanny until a few days ago. I came to the realization that my body is too tired and run down to be a nanny or a PCA anymore. I am talking to a lawyer tomorrow about possibly qualifying for SSDI. Besides the severe enduring anorexia, my back and neck are very unhappy with me. There are some days that I can walk for miles and get lots done. There are other days I can’t even drive myself to church. I have a steroid injection into my cervical spine in a few weeks, which I hope will help. This is only a short-term solution. Repeated use of steroids causes bone density to diminish, and I can’t run that risk. Sigh, I guess your mom is getting old. Still, I have many things to be grateful for. Since it is hard for me to drive, your daddy drove me to and from PHP for a month. We are surrounded by caring and loving friends. I rejoice in the days that I can get outside and move my body. I was blessed with 22 years of being able to love you. That is the greatest blessing of all.

Happy Earth Day in heaven, my love. I miss you more than words can express. I know that you are running free with Cousin Joyce. Please keep coming to me as a cardinal. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

On Hold, again

Dear Ravi,

The confusion with health care continues. As you know, my health insurance was cut off at the beginning of April, but no one can tell me why. I have appealed and written about my struggle to various politicians. Yesterday, I thought I was supposed to be on Minnesota Care, starting May 1. Today, I got another notice in the mail that said I qualified for Minnesota Assistance and eligibility began April 1. MA was what you had and kept up from going bankrupt during your last illness. I am not certain why I qualified for it, except that I have not garnered any income of note in the past year. Right now, I am on hold again with Ramsey County. I want to find out if I really am insured or not. I have no idea. It would be nice if I were insured from April 1 on as that would cover my days in the Partial Hospitalization Program from April 1 through April 8, when all of this nonsense started. I am so confused! So, I am writing to you which is always a dandy use of my time.

Today was a good day. Do you remember all the horrible but expensive clothes that Anabel has sent me over the years? Well, they have left the house! Most of them still had tags on them. None of the clothes fit me, my shape, or my coloring. I never wore them and have resided in the upstairs closet for over a decade. A therapist suggested to me that I would feel much better if I did not have these clothes in my house anymore. I realized that she was correct. These clothes do not represent me; they only represent what Anabel expects me to be. I have not talked to her since your funeral and her behavior that day and the days leading up to your death are unforgiveable. I have cut all contact with her and plan to never see her again. Anyway, today a friend and I gathered up all the unwanted clothes and took them to Turn Style, the consignment shop that you once liked. I don’t ever care if I get money for these clothes. They are gone from the house for good. If Anabel had ever really understood me, she would have gotten me clothes from LL Bean or REI.

Oh, wow, now I am off hold and actually got an agent on the phone. It turns out that I do have MA, and it started at the beginning of this month. Who knew? I am not going to drown in debt from my last few days of PHP. I am suddenly limp with relief. It is sad commentary on our government that it took 2 weeks for me to get all of this straightened out. Our medical system is such a mess. Our country is such a mess. Right now, I can’t tell you if the Strait of Hormuz is open or shut. I don’t know if gas prices will go down or continue to spiral upwards. There are a lot of uncertainties right now. Though I miss you deeply, I am glad you are not surrounded by this chaos.

The rain has stopped falling and the world is green and budding. I am about to go for a walk with a good friend and her dog. I have health insurance. I am no longer in a state of panic. Run free in heaven with your cousin Joyce and know that Daddy and I love you forever. Mom.

Stories, Dreams, and Memories

Dear Ravi,

I found this quote yesterday and thought of you.

“Do you have a magic spell to return someone to life?” she said.

“No” the witch said, “I am sorry.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t you tell me about them?”

“Will that bring them back?”

“For us. For a little while. Stories are a different kind of magic.”

Ravi, stories are magical. You know that. I read to you before you were even born, weaving a nest of words to bring you safely into my arms. Today, I am a weaver of words to hold your memory alive. Stories and dreams are richly intertwined. There was a dream specialist named John Sanford with whom I am greatly enamored. He was a priest, a doctor of sorts, and a Jungian. He had a daily practice of writing down his dreams as soon as he awoke for the day. For the past 6 months I have diligently taken up this practice and the results are amazing. Did you know that God speaks to us through our dreams, via all sorts of symbolism, memories and mystery? This is not just the stuff of the Old Testament but is true even today. Follow me below the jump.

For the last 4 years of your life, I had the same dream, over and over. I was swimming in a deep blue peaceful ocean. The waves gently rocked and cradled me. Suddenly, I realized that something was amiss with my left arm. It was crooked and bent at an odd angle. I could not use it to pull me through the water. The waves were no longer gentle but rough, and I struggled to make any forward motion. I was in deep water and very afraid. At this point I always woke up. After you died, I never had this dream again. I was looking through my notes and the symbolism of the dream suddenly hit me. You were an avid swimmer. You loved the water. The cancer first began in your left humerus and spread. After your second surgery, which added 6 months to your life, your left arm was bent at an odd angle, and you could no longer swim. The ocean was the waters of your baptism. The struggle was the cancer within you. The water, in itself, was not evil, but the cancer deep withing your bones was. The two together were wrestling for your soul, for your life. I have not been studying dreams very long, so this is my vague stab at an interpretation. Others may see it differently. Last night I had another dream. You were in a school program that was not right for you, and you were very unhappy. You could speak, but only through echolalia. You were worried about bad things happening and were trying frantically to tell me. Suddenly, teacher Sonia show up. She said that this was the wrong setting for you, but she would take you into her class immediately after Christmas. I agreed that this was a good idea and said that I would pull you out of your current program immediately as the current class was not serving you. I sent you home on the bus and stayed to fill out some paperwork. On the way home I saw an airplane overhead. Suddenly, it was engulfed in a bright light, it burst into flames, hit the ground and exploded in a ball of fire. I knew that we were being attacked by Iran. I left my car and started running to a school. I did not know what school it was, but I knew that it was safe. In the school I huddled in a stairwell with many of my former coworkers from Risen Christ School, where I had taught when I was pregnant with you. Anna Marie and I hugged each other, the same as we had done on 9/11. Students began streaming into the building. They were not my Risen Christ students, but my students from Our Lady of Lourdes School, my first teaching position in 1997. Some of the students were uninjured, others were gravely hurt. 5 of my 8th grade girls were packed into a container marked Biohazard. They had been contaminated by a toxic substance and were about to be shipped to a hospital to be decontaminated. I could wave at them through the portal, but I could not touch them. Their limbs were broken and twisted. I woke up with a start.

Some parts of this dream make sense. Ravi, your safety and the safety of Mercury has always been my top priority. The safety of my students came next. The threat of an Iran invasion is very real right now. I do not know why I was surrounded by teachers and staff from nearly 3 decades ago, but I knew that they were important to me and that I had to protect them. Safety is paramount to any parent or teacher. The parents who sent their little girls to school on that fateful Saturday in Iran thought that they were keeping their children safe. The teachers in the school tried to keep their 178 students safe. When one alarm went off, they vacated the building for what they thought was a safer place. Tragically, they died as they lived, protecting the children in their care. All that is left is 200 graves, where mourning parents met every evening of Ramadan, to weep, to pray, to remember, to wonder why such evil had to attack such innocence. Ravi, I have no good answers. The question of theodicy is older than the story of Job. Those of us who are left behind weep, we mourn, we remember.

Yesterday was an amazing day at church. I helped teach Sunday School. We talked about Lazarus and Jesus calling him forth from the dead. We did an art activity, using salt and watercolors to make a tear. At church I sat with some friends and soaked in the beauty of the music and the liturgy. Afterwards, I slipped downstairs to visit you. I want to leave you with one final thought. Recently, I read an essay by an Episcopal sister who was also a head nurse. One of the younger nurses came to her in great distress. She said that she had been praying fervently that one of her patients would be healed. Despite her prayers and ministrations, he passed away. She asked her superior why God had let this happen. The elderly nun replied that her prayers for her patient had indeed been answered. God had gifted her patient with eternal life. He had been risen from his body into the full Communion of saints, martyrs, and all who had died. He could never die or be ill again. This was God’s greatest blessing to him. Ravi, you too received this blessing. When you took your final breath, I knew that you were gone. I opened the front door to let your spirit fly free. You no longer inhabited your frail, sick body, you were born anew. This does not mean that I do not greatly grieve your passing. You are my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. Your name is always on my lips and in my heart. I live to tell your story as a weaver of words.

Stories, dreams and memories. These are things that we carry with us on our journey. These are all that I have left of you. I wish that I had you here with me, but I know that you are someplace far better than we can ever imagine. Ravi, I miss you more than words can tell. I will continue to share your story by being a weaver of words. I love you to the moon and back. Yours forever, Mom.

Amazing Grace

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday, your daddy and I were walking down Summit Avenue towards the river. Suddenly, we heard a familiar noise that we had not heard all winter; it was Jim playing the bagpipes! Surely, this is a sign of spring. You loved to listen to Jim play the pipes. We would sit on a bench near the war memorial and just soak in the music. You never wanted to get too close to him because bagpipes, even outdoors, are loud! Remember, they were an instrument of war, meant to heard above the hue and cry of battle. Jim does not play battle music; he plays wonderful music that remind me of the moors of Scotland. Whenever we heard Jim playing, we always had to stop and listen.

Shortly after you passed, Jim volunteered to play the pipes at your funeral. We gladly accepted and I asked him to play Amazing Grace. At the beginning of the service, he stood on the parish green and played his heart out. Following the final note the church bell tolled 22 times, once for each year of your life. It’s odd, I have only fleeting memories of daddy’s and my wedding, but your final service is forever etched in my mind and my heart. The church was full of friends, yours and ours, jugglers, runners, nurses, teachers, athletes from The Magic. All of these people stopped what they were doing on a beautiful Saturday afternoon and bore witness to your life. Even in the depths of our grief, we felt the power of their love.

I did not hear Jim today when I took Rosie for a walk. It was very windy and a storm is moving in. Most activities for the weekend have been cancelled. If this storm blows right by us and all we get is a sprinkle of rain, I will laugh. I continue to plead with your baby trees and my bulbs to stay under cover and not come out yet. There will be plenty of time to play in the sun, but not yet. Spring in Minnesota is notoriously fickle. You know that.

So, I am sitting here with the dogs. Daddy is making curry. The kitchen smells amazing. On the other side of the ocean, war rages, but I am trying not to focus on that right now. Dr Kardell gave me a new mantra. She told me to keep doing the next right thing. I think about that a lot. I think about how I can do the next right thing in your memory, in the life of your daddy, and in all the people I come across. I want to do the next right thing by turning this blog into a book so you will live forever in the hearts of your readers.

So, these are just my thoughts on a cold, windy Friday night. I wish that you were with us, but I know that you are someplace much better. Fly free, Ravi. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

17 months

Dear Ravi,

It has been 17 months since I held you in my arms and said goodbye. I miss you deeply and so does Daddy. I dreamed of you last night. I was holding you and then you slipped away. I tried to follow you but was unable to do so. I awoke from this dream and realized that it was March 11, 2026. You left us on October 11, 2024. My subconscious often remembers dates before my conscious mind does. The alert either comes in a dream, a migraine, or a crushing day of grief. I read a book once called The Body Keeps the Score. It certainly does. You are so deeply embedded in my body that my heart and soul long for you before my mind has time to catch up. Grief is a wild, untamed beast. I wish that grief and I could come to some sort of amicable agreement, but that does not seem possible right now.

I hope you are romping about heaven, free of cancer, epilepsy, pain, and fear. I hope you are hanging out with Rosie, Joyce, and your great aunt Dorothy. I know that they will all take good care of you. Life on earth is rather grim. For some reason our country attacked Iran. Then, Israel jumped into the fray. The Straight of Hormuz is shut down and lined with mines. Our president, who shall remain nameless, is claiming victory. Iran claims that this war will end when they say it will end. There is a warning of drone attacks off the coast of California. To say the least, things are tense.

Over the last week Daddy and I have been watching a mini-series on the Cold War. The series start with the bombing of Pearl Harbor and run up through Vietnam. Over and over again our country has deposed democratic countries and put tyrants and dictators in place. The United States has not learned from our past, we just continue to repeat it. There are tons of mini revolutions that never made it into American history textbooks, but they are all intertwined and have shaped the present day. Maybe if our current president was a history buff and could read above a third-grade level, things would be different. Alas, they are not. History continues to repeat itself and the drum beat of war is loud.

Judging by the way my head feels, there is a major storm moving in. The wind is picking up and the temperature is dropping. I am begging my crocus and your trees that they hunker down and wait to bloom for at least another 6 weeks. Our dear friend April sent me some peonies and bulbs to plant. I have put them in pots around the house to have something blooming inside before things can bloom outside. Your amaryllis bulb has peeked out and looks like it is thinking of blooming. I have babied this bulb since April sent it to me shortly after you passed. It gives me a great deal of hope in the resurrection. Green things and life will come again. We will journey through Holy Week together. We will struggle through Good Friday and be risen again on Easter Sunday.

I miss you, Ravi. You come to me in my dreams and then drift away again. Your spirit is free and I cannot hold on to you. You have gone to a better place where someday Daddy and I will join you. Please continue to pray for your sister. I fear that she is in a very bad place. Currently, I am under a heated blanket and a pile of pets. Daddy is out for lunch with Daniel. I will get up in a while and walk the dogs before it gets too much colder. Go fly free, my child. Love you to the moon and back, Mom.