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.
Harriet's Hedgehogs and Autism Advocacy 