Tag: love

July??

Dear Ravi,

How is it already July? I blinked and the calendar moved. We spent the 4th July very quietly, as we do not believe that our country has anything to celebrate while our citizens and our immigrants are being oppressed or disappeared. The afternoon of the 4th, I joined Women Against Military Madness on the corner of Summit and Snelling. We chanted and prayed for freedom for Palestine, freedom from war, and freedom for those who are oppressed. It felt good to join people of like minds and speak out freely. We had lots of honks and peace signs from passersby. Luckily, we were in the shade because the heat was oppressive. I will return to this group of peacekeepers every Friday from 4 to 5 pm.

I may have mentioned before, July is both Sarcoma awareness month and child loss month. I am on social media only sporadically and am trying not to doom scroll. It is a slippery slope. Last Sunday, I was happy to leave my phone at home and go to church. I went to the 10:30 service instead of the 8:15, as I was in the mood for music. What a great day to go, the choir sang all my favorite hymns. Despite all the windows being open, the church was stuffy and hot. It was a relief to go down and visit you in the chapel. I sat by niche and talked to you for a long time. We could hear the muffled conversations from coffee hour upstairs, people coming and going. The church is a lively place on Sunday, a good place to be. Your daddy and I will come over later this week, when the church is open and visit you. We walked by on Sunday evening, but it was all locked up.

Ravi, I am at a crossroads. I am feeling the urge to return to the working world. I don’t want to work full time, but 20 to 25 hours a week would be fine. I had a preliminary interview for a tutoring job this morning, and have an interview with Visiting Angels, as caretaking group tomorrow afternoon. What I really want to do is to sell my book and be an author, but I need something to pay the bills in the interim. We shall see what happens. I am not taking a job just to have a job, a job has to have meaning to me, and a decent rate of pay.

The exciting news is that Daddy and I are going to Virginia next week. We are flying into Richmond and spending 3 days with April and Rick and also seeing a childhood friend. Then, we will go see Etta and Denny and family in Fredericksburg for 4 days. It is summer on a farm, and we will be busy. I think Daddy has already been conscripted to drive a tractor. I will slather him with sunscreen, put a big floppy hat on his head and hope that he does not wilt. We will also see Nancy and Red and celebrate the end of her treatment for breast cancer. The visit would not be complete without a stop by my alma mater. Don’t worry about the pets, Chris will take good care of them and the house while we are away.

I suppose you heard about the tragedy in Texas. Your daddy and I are heartbroken. So many people were swept away in the flood. I know that they are now dancing with Jesus, but their families want them back. We pray for peace and closure for those left behind.

I miss you, Boo Bear. I miss your smile and your laugh. I know that you are flying free. Friends chime in almost daily to give me cardinal reports. Sometimes, I see you when I am out and about with the dogs. Last night I saw lightening bugs, something I have not seen since I was a child. Are there lightening bugs in heaven? We went to Taco Bell for you last week, the first time we have been back since we lost you. I had a freezie in your memory. I smiled through the tears. Sweet boy, know that your mama loves and misses you. The Cardinal is the state bird in Virginia, so I will look for your there. Forever and ever, your loving mama. Harriet.

Happy Birthday, Mercury

Dear Mercury,

Happy 21s birthday to you. We hope that you are well. Though we heard your voice as you facetimed goodbye to Ravi, we have not seen you since you were 18. We miss you. Though the house is full of animals, there is no longer any teen or young adult energy. We still have Jack Jack and Gloria. Shortly after you departed, we adopted Nikki, an orange tabby cat. In December we adopted Raya. a blue merle aussie. She is very sweet and shy but has decided that Dad and I are her safe people. Catherine, the hedgehog, is her usually sassy self. She loves bugs, her wheel, and snuggling in my bathrobe.

What can I say? I just want to talk to you. I never wanted you to leave, I just wanted time to talk to you without Eli chiming in. The last summer you were home, all I wanted was 30 minutes of your time, to go for a walk or to take you out to coffee. When you came home for spring break, I was hoping we could connect, but your brother was in the hospital. Though you visited him once, you did not even acknowledge him, you were too wrapped up in Eli. And, since you paid no attention to Ravi, he ignored you. He fought cancer for 22 months. You never called him or even sent him a card. It was like he did not even exist. Someday, I hope you are able to understand the depth of your loss.

I love you, Mercury, but we are also hurt and angry. You never told Dad your preferred name or pronouns but became furious if he called you by your birth name. We will happily pay for your education, and help you with FAFSA, but you have to talk to us first. We hope you are having a good birthday. We are always willing to talk to you and extend a hand. You have had our phone numbers memorized since you were six. You can call us, but we can’t call you as you changed your number. Give us a chance, we are not complete evil, regardless of what Eli is whispering in your ear. We did not kick you out of the house because you are trans. When I emailed you 2 Easters ago and sent you an Easter basket, you only replied in rage. We will only reach out to you in love. Take care of yourself. You know our phone numbers. Would it be too much to pick up the phone and call? Love, Mom and Dad.

Mother’s Day, 7 months, plants, and stuff

I have been dreading today for weeks. I did not know how to get through Mother’s Day when I don’t feel like a mom. I didn’t know how to function when it has been exactly 7 months since Ravi took his last breath. So, I laid a game plan. I would attend the Adult Forum and 10:30 service with a dear friend. Afterwards, I would go downstairs to the chapel/ columbarium and spend as much time as I needed with Ravi. Then, I would go buy flowers and plant them in the back yard. The day went as planned, with a few miracles thrown in for good measure.

I went to adult forum with my friend. At the end of it, a woman from the vestry approached me. I had never talked to her before. “You are Ravi’s mom, aren’t you?” How had she known that I was praying that someone would just say his name? Turns out, she is the aunt of one of the young men on Ravi’s Special Olympic team, The Saint Paul Magic. We exchanged pleasantries and moved on to church. Once in the church, an astounding wave of grief hit me. I silently sobbed through most of the service. It was a lovely service, but I was completely flooded by grief. My friend just held my hand. After the service I went downstairs to the chapel/columbarium. I pulled a chair as close as I could to Ravi’s niche and just sobbed. I have no idea how long I sat there. Eventually, I gained a bit of composure and staggered out into the sunlight.

On returning home, I checked my phone. The first two texts were from the two people who have always stood by us, my sister-in-law, Cindy, and my cousin Paul. These two reached out every day during Ravi’s illness and every day since then. They are very dear to my heart. There were also texts and emails from friends, teachers at Ravi’s school, and other bereaved moms. I took a while to sit with this, then Robert and I went to Menards. We slowly wandered the garden section, and I picked out flowers and herbs that called to me. Once home, I spent several glorious hours digging in the dirt, planting and watering. Getting dirt on my hands and under my nails was good therapy. Later, we got Greek takeout.

So, this was the day that I had dreaded. I will be honest, parts of it were brutally hard. Other parts, goodness and mercy flowed into me. I want to thank everyone who said Ravi’s name to me, to everyone who reached out with pictures or spoke of sweet memories. I am proud to call you friends. I am wrapping up today by writing and listening to Glenn Gould play Bach. Music speaks to my soul. Gardening feeds my soul. My friends prop me up when I feel that I can no longer stand. I thank all of you. Be good humans. Say Ravi’s name and smile. Peace, Harriet.

Dear Ravi

My dear son, I have been silent these last few weeks as my laptop was in the shop, and I can’t compose anything of note on my phone. I am happy to have my computer back. I was mostly silent during April, which is Autism Awareness Month. It was the good, the bad, the ugly, and the absurd. I will spare you most of the details. I want you to know that RFK is wrong with a capital W. He said you would never write a poem. Ravi, your entire life and the way you lived it was a poem. He said you would never go on a date or have friends. Ravi, you had a bevy of female friends who loved to scoop you up and go have fun with you. These friends love and miss you. I will spare you the rest of the garbage that this man spews because you know, and I know, that whatever he has to say is complete rubbish.

Ravi, your life was a song, and I loved the way that you sang it. I treasure every moment that your father and I were able to spend with you. I just wish there were more moments. Your father recently drove to MS to pick up a glider from his dad. To the relief of many, at age almost 90, your grandfather finally hung up his wings. The glider that Dad now owns is a very perky shade of yellow. It is called a Duck Hawk, but I have dubbed it The Canary. Dad also brought back lots of pictures, both of you and Mercury, and many of family members I never had the chance to meet. I am not certain what to do with your baby and toddler pictures. They bring me such joy and such sorrow. I will hang some of them on the wall. I will put others into albums. For right now, I feel somewhat frozen, and they will just have to sit in a box on the dining room table. Ravi, you had the greatest smile.

I am dreading Mother’s Day. I have never had a Mother’s Day without you. I will go visit you in the chapel and then your dad and I will do something to honor you. If you have any way of getting in touch with Mercury, please tell them that they are loved and missed.

Right now, it is cold, grey day. I am snuggling with the animals. It should feel more like spring this weekend. I will plant some flowers in your memory. In the meantime, I love you. Fly high, sweet boy.

Time Passes

Ravi, it has been nearly 4 months since we lost you. Time and space are funny things. Sometimes, I feel so close to you. Other times, all I can feel is grief. As a bus aid, I pass St. Clements Church twice a day. When the bus goes by, I give you a little wave, a thumbs up, and blow you a kiss. This is my twice a day ritual. Somehow, you keep me grounded as I head into the happy chaos of work. I feel your presence most strongly when I am on the playground at Bridge View School. Years ago, Principal Lisa and I poured concrete for a handicapped accessible playground. Since then, over a decade of students have enjoyed this play space. Like y0u, many of my students love to swing. Some can pump themselves into the air on their own. Others are happiest when I I push them high into the sky. It is then and there that I feel your presence. Often, while I am pushing a student, the sun peaks out from behind a cloud, and I know that you are saying hi.

The world is crazy right now. Basic human rights are being taken away. You would not understand this scary new world, and if you were here, I would do my best to shield you from it. You and I were so proud when you cast your vote for President Biden 4 years ago. We rejoiced when he won. Immediately after his administration ended, the world became a much darker place. The Medicaid that paid all your bills the last 22 months of your life is in danger of being taken away. The cancer research that prolonged your short life is frozen. I miss you deeply, but in a way, I am glad you are not part of this terrifying new world, but rather, hanging out with Jesus, and all those who have gone before.

Remember Mr. Rogers? His mother once told him that when things were scary to look for the helpers. There are helpers, Ravi. There are brave men, women, and transpeople who are standing up for what it is right and good. The Right Rev. Budde preached love and acceptance from the pulpit of the National Cathedral. She was the same person that offered the body of Matthew Shepherd sanctuary. There was no safe place for his body to rest until she had him interred at the Cathedral. I hope that you and Matthew and all the saints are dancing in heaven.

Boo Bear, I miss you more than mere words can express. Our house misses your energy. True, we have dogs and a cat and a hedgehog, but we miss your vibrant autistic energy. When I wake up in the morning, first thing, when I am in that state between dreams and reality, I believe, for a fleeting second that you are still here. Then, reality hits me like a freight train. Though life is hard and scary right now, I will continue to show up for you. Your daddy and I will be two of the helpers. Ravi, you were a good human. It is now the job of the rest of us to be good humans. I love you to the moon and back. Peace