To my mom, February 1

Sunday, February 1, 1981

          I will begin work on the curtains for your room soon, don't have a whole lot of time left, ya know! My! but you've been active today, I've got this awful ache in my right side. Oh well, a little pain for a lot of joy—I guess I can endure.

Sunday, February 1, 2026

          And endure you did. But only so much as was reasonable in the end. Ten or twenty more years of life in that state would have hardly been a life at all. That awful ache in your side born of a rolled ankle, imbalance issues, what your doctors termed "spinal stenosis," and ultimately your failing psyche made it hard to stay active.

          My God! Ya know, it wasn't until the final month that we realized how little time you had left. And as the curtain closes on that stage of our lives, we're all—me, Yume, Ewan, Paige, and not least of all Dad—now working on the next stage. A stage we explore now without you.

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

To my mom, January 29

Thursday, January 29, 1981

          You are very special you know that!?? God has created another of His many miracles in creating you—you are so loved … just wanted you to know. :D

Thursday, January 29, 2026

          It's a special thing you did to write all this to your then unborn baby. God created us to share opportunities and experiences with each other. I don't know if we shared all the ones that we could have if things had been different, but I feel grateful and blessed for the ones we did share.

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

To my mom, January 26

Monday, January 26, 1981

          Well, things keep trickling in…. Today we got a box in the mail from my mother chock-full of nice little baby things I’m sure you’ll enjoy – oh! By the way, we found your crib! I just can’t wait to start dressing up your room—making it all nice and bright—a happy place for you to grow. Thinking about you really puts the sunshine in my life … I love you.

Monday, January 26, 2026

          Well, things keep progressing as you and Dad planned. We should be making a decision soon on an assisted living facility nearby for him to take residence in, chock-full of nice old people and planned meals and smaller, quieter quarters. I'm sure Dad "just can't wait" to start dressing up his new place—filling it with what remains from 740 Linda Vista—a fine little abode for him to grow old in alongside your memory. Thinking about you evokes a mood that matches the cloudy, foggy days this time of year somewhat—and then the sun burns it all away. You always loved the sun. And we love you.

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