To my mom, March 14

Saturday, March 14, 1981

          Well, so far I've had 3 different people tell me that they believe I am going to have a girl. I don't feel I have the right to pray and ask for anything but a healthy, happy baby.
          My mother called tonite, said she'd be down whenever I needed her. I always feel better after we've talked.

Saturday, March 14, 2026

          Do you remember the time you asked me if I was gay? I was probably late teens or early twenties. Not because you thought I was girly per se (though my frame does take after yours), but more probably because I wasn't overtly interested in dating or girls in those days. Yume was and still is the only serious relationship I've ever pursued. And I'm glad you got to get to know her and develop a trusting relationship. You always wanted a daughter, and had your miscarriage before me gone to term maybe I would have had a big sis at home growing up.
          Trev's planning on calling tonight, and has plans to visit soon for the first time since you left us. I always look forward to his visits.

My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.

Kidding Around: Zoo News Edition

 

To my mom, March 9

Monday, March 9, 1981

          I wish I could say everything is going just fine, but it isn't. Well, physically I'm OK, but we're finding it difficult to get the rest of your room ready for you. There are still lots of things to get and not much time.
          Why doesn't the world just stop spinning and say, "Hey, Cyndi is having a baby"!? Having you is truly awe-inspiring ... from the first time I felt your heartbeat, since those first little kicks—God what a miracle. This is amazing. I love you, beautiful baby.

Monday, March 9, 2026

          It's something more than poetic how your words from decades ago line up with our own goings and doings today. Is this how God is choosing to speak to me in this season of my life? Physically, I guess I'm OK too (cholesterol higher than needed), but I'm finding it difficult—or I should say, challenging—to get the rest of our house ready for all that seems to loom closer day-by-day. There are still lots of wants and needs, and trying to separate out between them which should be considered next and how to muster the time, enthusiasm, and resources for them is more than enough. Add a thing or two more and it slides into overwhelming. It's a battle to stave off self-pity (or self-loathing) and sloth. Staying productive is truly my only choice, even if I have to drag others along with me.

          Why doesn't the world just stop swirling and say, "Hey Lance, here's your joy today"!? Having all this hurricane of emotions and activity swirl with me seeming at the center is anxiety-inducing ... from the moment your heart beat last, since those final bouts and fits on your hospital bed—God what a trial. Still it's amazing. I have hope, Mom.

My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.