Tag: writing

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.

What is your dream job?

Dear Ravi,

This was the writing prompt for today. I can answer this easily, caring for you was my dream job. You had PCAs since you were four years old. Some of them were wonderful and became a part of our family for years. Others I quickly fired, such as the one that emptied our liquor cabinet. Daddy drinks rarely and I do not drink at all. One day when reaching for some cooking sherry Daddy noticed that almost all of the bottles of alcohol in our cabinet were empty! We had three different PCAs at the time, and I trusted two of them with my life. The culprit was obvious to us and he was quickly dispatched.

When you were fifteen you developed epilepsy. The nurse in the ER warned me that I would never sleep the same again, that I would always sleep with one ear open. She was entirely correct. Even now, I still sleep with one ear open. It’s a special needs mommy thing. At this time, I realized that I could not work outside of the home, because I had to be ready at any moment to come get you from school or an activity in case you had a seizure. I dropped my tutoring obligations and my nanny job and became your full time PCA. As to your epilepsy, you were trialed on many different medications. At one point, you had a beautiful run of 18 months seizure free. That was amazing. Sadly, after that the seizures became much more common. After you were diagnosed with osteosarcoma your seizures became so much worse. My theory was that your stress level from being in the hospital was super high, your body was very fragile, and this caused you to have more frequent and severe seizures. Your doctors admitted that my theory might be correct, but they did not have a lot of data about treatment resistance epilepsy and chemotherapy.

Boo, I loved being your PCA. We could choose to do what we pleased with our days when you were not in school or when we were shut down during Covid. We had our own little bubble of friends and our own fun activities we could do on our own. You did not like online school so Alissa and I took over teaching you everything we could about the outside world. We followed your interests, and even when our world seemed very small, you were happy and thriving.

After your osteosarcoma diagnosis, carrying for you was a 24/7 kind of job, but I still loved it. Your daddy and I were perpetually exhausted, but it did not matter. You were the center of our existence. Never have you been more loved. I have had great jobs and terrible jobs since 1989, but I never had a job like I had when I was your caretaker. Though it is often painful to think back on the last 22 years of your life, you, me, and daddy were one connected unit. We laughed together and cried together. And, at the very end we said goodbye to you as your soul slipped away to freedom.

I am working part time at most right now. I don’t want to work full time. I tried it less than 8 weeks after we lost you and it nearly destroyed me. I still love being a PCA and caretaking, but it is much less of an emotional commitment. I can go home at the end of the day and turn my mind to other things. Ravi, you were my dream job, the best job ever. Please know that. You appear in my dreams often. Sometimes, I wake up smiling, other times I wake up in tears. You will never be forgotten. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to help you, love you, care for you. Love you to the moon and back. Mom.

Who Was a Good Leader?

Dear Ravi,

This was the WordPress prompt for the day. Now, some people may think I would select Obama, or as a best former president, Jimmy Carter. Goodness knows I will wax rhapsodic about both of these gentlemen. My choice, however, goes to a certain little red merle girl who was born into my hands and became your best friend forever, Rosie.

Rosie was Ravi’s Australian Shepherd service dog. Her mama, Zuli, decided to give birth while Myra and I were on a trip out to the country to do some dog training. We were having lunch and Zuli, who was very pregnant at the time, suddenly gave one woof and trotted off towards the van. A few minutes later Myra decided to follow her. A few minutes after that I followed Myra. Zuli had hopped into the back of the van and promptly popped out a puppy just as Myra walked up. Surprise! (We thought Zuli was not due for another 3 or 4 days.) Right after that Zuli pushed again and a tiny red merle female landed in my hands. At that point, we decided we were better off in the cabin, where Zuli promptly delivered another puppy. There was no running water in the cabin, so we headed for home. Halfway there I heard a new noise. Another puppy had joined the pack. When we got to Myra’s place, we put the proud mama and the three puppies in a whelping pen (a kiddie pool full of newspaper) and I ran home to take a quick shower. I realized I was covered in mud, dirt, amniotic fluid, and blood. In record time I took a shower and went speeding back over the Myra’s place to find not three but seven puppies happily nursing! We spent hours cooing over the puppies and telling Zuli what a good job that she did.

A few weeks later Myra had to go out of town, so the puppies moved into my kitchen, whelping pen and all. They were growing fast and furious and were curious about everything. Realizing they were outgrowing their first home, I bought an X pen and set it up in the kitchen. I put all the puppies inside and started to walk away to put Zuli outside. I looked back and the little red merle girl I had delivered was determinedly scaling the wall of the four-foot X pen. She got herself to the top, hesitated for a moment, then heaved herself into space. She hit the floor on all four paws and began toddling after me. That was when I knew that she had chosen me to be her dog and thus began over twelve years of an absolute love affair. I named her Rosie.

Out of the litter, Rosie chose me and Gracie chose Myra. The other puppies all went to families who wanted a good working dog for agility, service, or herding. Myra and I spent years training the two sisters side by side. Though they had identical training routines, ultimately, Gracie decided she wanted to be an agility dog and Rosie decided she wanted to be your service dog.

Rosie not only became your service dog, but she also became the household manager. She woke you up every morning. She told me when it was her mealtime and ours. She waited with you for the bus and alerted me when it came. When the bus returned seven hours later, she would once again alert me. She was an amazing tracking dog and could find you whenever you chose to wander off. When I took her running, she was fiercely protective of me. I could run at all hours of the day or night and knew that I was perfectly safe. If you were having a hard time, she would lie on top of you and give you deep pressure. You shared all your food with her. She was very good about never taking food when she was working and had her vest on, but at home she could never resist a treat or any fallout from your plate. For twelve years she was an integral part of your life and the entire household. Tragically, she died suddenly of liver cancer long before we were ready for her to go. She was born into my hands and passed from this life in my arms. I think that there is symmetry to that.

So, my best beloved, that is my choice for who was the best leader, and I think that you would agree with me. Rosie was your best buddy from the time you were four until you were sixteen. We both grieved her death immensely. She was the leader of the household pack, your best friend, and my wing woman. Though other aussies have come after her, she was truly our heart dog. I know that you and she are romping on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, sharing all the treats, and having a marvelous time. Love you forever, see you both someday, and we will all go for a long walk. Love, Mom.

If I Could Uninvent Something

Dear Ravi,

This was the writing prompt for this afternoon. Can WordPress make it any more easy? You and I both know what we would uninvent, number 47. I am not going to give him a title or a name. He does not deserve it. He is a pathetic man/child that is sending federal troops into Minnesota. Unlike the ICE agents who do not have a clue about how to handle the frigid conditions of our home state, these troops are trained in Alaska. Yes, Alaska, where it is so cold that they run the school buses all winter long because otherwise they will never start up again. Hmmm.

Fortunately, our governor has another plan up his sleeve. He has called up the MN national guard. These are homegrown Minnesotans who probably grew up playing pond hockey without pads or helmets and are thrilled when the temperatures fall off the thermometer. I wish to high heaven that this was not happening. I don’t want ICE, federal troops, or the national guard in our metro area. Minnesotans look after their own and like to be left alone. Sure, we may invite you to Twins or Vikings game, or to enjoy our symphony, but then we would like to you to go back where you came from.

The irony, Ravi, is that they are scooping up and deporting Natives. People who have lived on this land long before Caucasians ever showed up. Despite the fact that these people are carrying MN drivers’ licenses and tribal IDs, they have been disappeared anyway. Our church, St Clement’s, was built on tribal land. We are acutely aware of this and make certain that our doors are always open to everyone regardless of race, color, or creed.

So, though yesterday was a victory, chasing the white supremists out of Minneapolis, ICE just seems to have scattered into the suburbs. Right now I hear reports that they are in Rochester, stealing Mayo patients out of their cars. Mayo was set up by an order of peace-loving nuns. I am certain that this was not even in their most bizarre nightmares. Mayo saved your life on two occasions, and I have a very special place for them in my heart.

So, we both know what I want to uninvent. He has done nothing but harm our country. His first term was bad enough, but he came roaring back with a vengeance. He thinks he needs Greenland. He wants to terrify blue states. In short, he is a monster, and that is giving monsters a bad name. I miss you my son, I love you. I will go on resisting by alerting our neighbors of danger, buying groceries and supplies for your school and in any other small ways I can think of. I love you to the moon and back. Mom.

A Quick Note to Ravi

Dear Ravi,

Yesterday was a day that would make you proud to be a Minnesotan. As you probably know, there was going to be a white supremist rally in the Cedar Riverside neighborhood, blocks from Masonic Children’s Hospital. I am very familiar with that neighborhood. I often took runs and walks through there while Daddy was keeping you company. As you also know, this is a Somali neighborhood and a place of peace. Anyway, some stupid white men with more testosterone than sense and drunk on power decided they would march through the neighborhood and burn the Qur’an on the steps of city hall. To our everlasting delight, the march crashed and fizzled. First of all, the weather was in our favor. It was bone chilling, sub zero temperatures, typical of Minnesota in January. Less than a dozen supremists turned out. A few stepped out of their hotel, got slapped in the face by the bitter cold, saw the hordes of peaceful protesters and retreated back into the hotel. This left one white dude with a megaphone, all by himself. The crowd mocked him and jeered at him. They threw snowballs and water balloons. They literally chased him down the street. He was trying to get back to his hotel. Out of nowhere came a young African American man. He took his enemy by the arm and directed him to safety, while getting pelted by snowballs and water balloons that were aimed at his foe. This young brother guided his enemy to safety. Ravi, he did not have to do this. The person he helped believed that he should “go back where he came from”. Sweetheart, this is true agape, selfless love.

Things are very uncertain and uncomfortable here right now, and it is stretching across the country. I heard today that the orange maggot is sending ICE to Disney in Florida. This is a chance for the Mouse to stand up and roar. If they want to continue being the most magical place on earth, then they need to fight back. If they don’t, no one will want to go there. One of Florida’s premier vacation destinations will be vacant. We never took you to Disney Land or Disney World. Honestly, I have never been there either. You and Mercury never showed the slightest interest in anything Disney related, so for your Zak’s wish trip, we went north to Duluth. Not seeking crowds, but solitude and a beautiful Great Lake that stretches farther than the eye can see. We rode around on a modified bike, we walked on the beach, we ate lots of great food, and we enjoyed each other’s company. That was one of the best weeks of my life. I wish that serenity for the world today. Our country does not need Greenland. We do not need mall cops heady with power in our streets. We are better than this.

As I write, I hear helicopters overhead. Like during the George Floyd riots, they have become a steady backdrop of noise. Things are peaceful for a while, then are disrupted by honking horns, whistles, and sirens. Peace is very fragile. I am proud to be a Minnesotan. I am proud that you were born, lived, and died in this beautiful state. It is up to us to stand on the right side of justice. Peace to you my son, 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.

Just Dreaming

Dear Ravi,

Last night I had the most amazing dream. In the dream I was in a space I had never seen before. It was definitely not earth, but I don’t know where it was. I was surrounded by happy throngs of people and dogs. Everyone was very at ease. I looked for my dogs and I looked for you. Nothing. Then it occurred to me that maybe I needed to speak a name to call them forth. I looked at all the dogs and called for Rosie. Suddenly, she and Raya showed up! I was not surprised to see Raya, as she is part of my every day life, but I have not seen Rosie since I lost her over 9 years ago. Both dogs appeared before me, in the peak of health. We played together and I showered them with kisses. I wondered if I called your name is you would appear. In a voice barely above a whisper, I called to you. “Ravi.” Just then a big yellow school bus pulled up and your hopped off! I ran to you and held you in my arms. You were real, alive, whole, and healthy. Interestingly, you did not have Sam. You did not speak with mouth words, but you did not need to. We just held each other and that was enough. The dream fades out about then, but I awoke both ecstatic and devastated. I guess that is how grief and dreams work.

Your daddy and I enjoying a very quiet day. We walked the dogs 5 miles before the incoming blizzard and have kept to ourselves. I have no need to interact with the outside world. It is too wild and busy and confusing. I feel safe at home and walking the blocks that I walked so often with you. I like looking at the Christmas decorations but have no urge to have any of my own. Our house looks like it always did. It is homey, full of books, music, pets, and a lot of fur. It looks comfortable and lived in. A place where people can relax and be their truest selves. All are welcome.

I am glad that you and Rosie are together. She was your best buddy from the time you were 4 until you were 16. I miss her. I love Jack Jack, Gloria, and Raya, but I miss Rosie. She was my heart dog, and she took excellent care of you. I am busy looking for part time employment since my last client turned out to be a certifiable nut case. I can put up with a lot, but I can’t put up with dishonesty. I finally got my paycheck for 55 hours of work, cut contacts and walked away. As you know, I do not know do well with extra time on my hands. I have to be busy and productive, hopefully helping others. In your memory, I want to make the world a better place. We are expecting a blizzard tomorrow. You never had much use for snow or cold weather, but we always had fun snuggling on the couch and hanging out with Sam.

I miss you Ravi. Today is one of those heavy grief days. I could tell as soon as I opened my eyes that today was going to be rough. Please look after your Uncle Rob and your Mercury. They are both having a tough time. We hope and pray for reconciliation with Mercury, but there are so many factors, many of them family, working against us. Someday, we hope that they will reach out.

I know you and Rosie are dancing in heaven, free of pain, fear, and cancer. I wish that I could dance with you. I will continue to work in your memory. Love you to the moon and back. You were a very good human. Mom.

Merry Christmas Boo

Dear Ravi,

From your most adoring mom, may I wish you a merry Christmas. I hope you are having a wonderful day in heaven, but I suppose every day in heaven is wonderful. As you know, Daddy and I have chosen to celebrate Christmas liturgically but not commercially. This means that we plunge ourselves deeper into our work at St. Clements, but we do not decorate, put up a tree, or exchange presents. You were never a huge fan of Christmas, anyway. You did not see the reason for upsetting your routine or bringing a tree or unnecessary boxes into the house. Though we never pushed the Santa myth on you or Mercury, we did put out stockings. You liked those because we stuffed them with your favorite kind of treats and sensory toys. You never had any interest in opening boxes or bags. If you found one thing you liked, you wandered off with it. We would let Mercury open boxes to their heart’s content but would let you go at your own pace. Sometimes, it took several days to open all your gifts and that is okay. Everyone can do Christmas in their own way.

Yesterday was busy. I had PT in the morning. Right after lunch Daddy and I went to St Clements. The first service of the day was the sensory friendly service led by Joy. We sat in a circle in the parish hall and built a creche scene out of blocks. We used the sand table as a base and as Joy read the Gospel, she invited the participants to use blocks, figures, feathers, and various paper animals to create the scene. This was greeted with much enthusiasm. We celebrated the Eucharist and sang a few songs. Everyone was engaged and happy. At the end, we chatted a bit and shared some snacks. An hour later nearly everyone left, and Daddy and I put things away. We went downstairs to visit you, and then Daddy went home to let the dogs out.

Next up was the Christmas pageant. This was a much higher energy service. Half of the children who had originally wanted to be sheep decided that they would rather be angels. Many of the angels defected and became sheep. No problem, I just stuffed of many tiny bodies in the costume of their choice. Lots of adoring parents and grandparents attended this service. It was well contained chaos. The older children did well. The sheep, shepherds, and angels hung in there. It was late afternoon, they were all tired, in need of a snack, and totally hyped up about it being nearly Christmas. Joy led all of us through the Eucharist, dispatched us in record time and dismissed us with Christmas greetings. I helped all the children get out of their costumes and put the costumes and tinsel garlands away. I popped into the chapel to say hello to you and then went home and collapsed for two hours.

I was back at church by 7:15 and robed up to be an acolyte. There were three women acolytes, 3 women lay Eucharistic ministers, and Joy, George, and a supply priest as Elizabeth had finally succumbed to the bug she had been fighting for the previous nine days. Ravi, it was a beautiful service and the female energy at the altar was off the charts. There was beautiful music, candles, chanting, and best of all, no incense! Worshiping at the altar, surrounded by other women was exactly where I wanted to be at that moment. It was an amazing blessing. Post service, I went downstairs to put my robe away. I was going to stop in the chapel one more time to say hi, but there was a bunch of older teens and young adults in there, having a marvelous time! I figured that you are a 23-year-old male, you were surrounded by your peers and did not need your mother poking her nose in on your fun. So, I blew you a kiss and headed out into the night. I think we both had a great evening.

Something you may not know about Christmas, Ravi. Twenty-five years ago, on Christmas Eve, your daddy and I got engaged. It was not a terribly romantic proposal, but it suited us just fine. We knew that we were meant to be together. Soon after, we went to a Christmas party with our friends and announced our engagement. Penny had just found a diamond ring at an antique store and decided that this should by my loaner ring until Robert and I picked out one just for me. I happily wore that ring all winter and into the early spring until we chose the one that I wear now. Penny has always had a very special place in my heart, but she made a wonderful evening even better.

So, now it is Christmas morning, and the pets are dozing at my feet. It is still dark outside. As usual, my muse picks odd times to become active. I do my best writing between 3 and 5 am. In a few hours, Daddy and I will go to the Pagoda restaurant and pick up Chinese Dim Sum and bring it to Dan and Robin and a few friends. This is our new tradition that we began last year and we like it. Later in the day, I will walk the dogs and probably take a nap. We don’t need presents and a tree, we have each other and some dear friends. I wish that you and Mercury were joining us, but I carry both of you in my heart. Ravi, today is the day that the Word became incarnate. I know that you are celebrating in heaven. Someday, we will all be together again. Until then, I love you forever and always, Mom.

What binds us

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.

The Frog In The Pot

Dear Ravi,

It is very cold outside, but I am wearing my fuzzy bathrobe and Gloria is sitting on my feet. Nikki went outside, decided that this was a bad idea and came rocketing back indoors. With windchills, the temperatures are supposed to be around minus 35 this weekend. I don’t really plan on going out.

I have had a very strange couple of weeks. Right before Thanksgiving I started a new caretaking job for a lady with multiple health problems. She needed someone to help her around her house, drive her to appointments, and organize her day. I had two interviews with her that went very well, and she offered me the job. The first few days went well. I drove her to doctor appointments and helped her clean her apartment. She was very complimentary of my work, and I felt we were a good fit. The job was 24 hours a week, 10 am to 4pm Monday through Thursday. I came back from Thanksgiving ready to work hard and that was when things started to get really weird. She kept wanting me to redo tasks that I had already completed. She would give me a list of things to do, and while I was doing them, completely change the list. She would “forget” to give me instructions and then claim that she had brain damage and could not be expected to remember everything. Nothing was good enough for her. She wanted at least 12 hours worth of work packed into a 6 hour work day. I began to feel like the frog in the pan of boiling water. Do you remember that story, Ravi? A frog was in a pot of water. He was happy and was able to live his life. Slowly, the heat of the water was turned up. The frog became uncomfortable. “This water is too hot!” he cried. The voice outside the pot told him that the water was just fine, and he was imagining things. The water began to boil. “Let me out!” begged the frog. “No”, said the voice, “You have to stay in the pot.” With the last of his energy the frog leaped out of the pot and hopped away.

Ravi, I felt like that frog. My employer tried to control every aspect of my life. She insisted that I work on her car, outside, in frigid temperatures. She said that the detergent that I used gave her a headache and I had to change detergents to a brand that she specified. Until I could to this, she insisted that I get my clothes damp and leave them outside over night to get rid of the smell. Though I did change detergents, I certainly did not leave me clothes out overnight. She continually lost my time sheets, and then got mad because I did not realize that she hid them in the Tupperware drawer. Honestly, Ravi, I am not making this up. The final straw came yesterday. She wanted me to come in an hour early. I arrived at 9am sharp, determined to have a good day. She had me work a 9 hour shift without any breaks, some of it outdoors. At the end of the day she did not want to sign my time sheets and said that my hours for yesterday had to go on a different time sheet for a different company. I then realized that she was using 3 different companies to log my hours. Things just did not add up. When I texted her at 6pm to say that I was logging out, she replied that I needed to wait, she might have “another plan”. I wanted 5 minutes, logged out and went home. Once I was home I had a long talk with Daddy and a good friend. They said either I needed to set really good boundaries with my employer or leave my position. I wrote a letter of grievance and resignation to the company who pays me, detailed everything that had happened and asked for advice on next steps. I do not want to work for her anymore. I do not want any contact with her. I want to get paid for the hours that I worked and move on with my life.

Ravi, I was tricked by this woman. She acted nice at first and I thought that she was a good person. I thought that if I just worked hard enough I would be able to please her. My friend pointed out to me that it sounds like she had deep rooted psychological issues. She may also have medical issues, but she is a master at gaslighting her employees. I remember after we asked Eli to move out, a good friend told me me, “Harriet, no more sad puppies.” What he meant was that I should not be taken in by people who supposedly had hard lives and then would take advantage of me. This woman was another Eli type who played on my desire to be helpful and be a change for good.

Anyway Ravi, that is the long story of my very weird 3 weeks. I am walking away. I can find a better employer who treats and pays me fairly and does not continually keep changing the rules and expectations of the job. Mommy may have felt like a frog in boiling water, but she used the last of her strength to jump out of the pan. My next step is to talk to HR and hopefully keep this woman from hiring anyone else.

I hope you are warm in heaven. It is frigid here, but I don’t have to work on a crazy lady’s car today without gloves. I don’t have to wash dishes and then be told that I washed them all wrong and to do it again. Who the heck washes dishes without soap, anyway? I am going to PT today to strengthen my back, play with the pets, walk on the treadmill and take lots of breaks. Your mommy may mean well, but she was not born yesterday. I am walking away from this job. All my love to you, my son, forever and ever. Mom.