To my mom, March 4

Wednesday, March 4, 1981

          …had a lot on my mind lately … of course, I have a lot of time to think, with Larry gone so much. I pray for you little baby, sometimes I think I haven't taken as good of care of myself as I should—to ensure your health & wellbeing.
          The countdown is on: 27 more days!!

Wednesday, March 4, 2026

          You too, huh? With Yume's and my own health, the kids' growth and constant need for engagement, and Dad living here these past few months (to say nothing of work and home labors), it's been what a lot of others have said when I relate a brief story about all this: "Oh wow. That's a lot." No kidding. And where you seem to have had Dad rarely around at that time to share these thoughts with, I can't help but be confronted with his situation daily. How's that for some striking symmetry!
          27, err, 17 days to go. I arrived 10 days early in '81. And in 17 more days I'll arrive at the exact midpoint of my life. 45 years. 90 feels earned without overstaying. Maybe I'm shortchanging myself, but I know it takes a near daily effort to stay fit enough in mind, body, and spirit to get there. I have your memory to remind me of what it will and won't take.

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

To my mom, February 24

Tuesday, February 24, 1981

          I still can hardly believe it! I'm going to be a mother! Oh Lord, help me to be all that I can be, all that You would want me to be.
          Little one, this is for you—

          That I may love you

          and comfort you,

          That I may hold you

          and nurture you,

          That we can hold you up before the Lord,

          In the same way he brought you to us…

          A gift of love.

Tuesday, February 24, 2026

          It's hard to believe how much life has changed in two months. Dad is still living here with us. It's not ideal, but I'm grateful we can provide each other support in this time.
          No spontaneous poem here, I'm afraid. Just a Psalm to balm a troubled soul.

          The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
          and his ears are attentive to their cry;
          but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil,
          to blot out their name from the earth.
          The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
          he delivers them from all their troubles.
          The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

          and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

          Psalm 34:15-18

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

To my mom, February 22

Sunday, February 22, 1981

          God smiled down upon me when he gave me you to nurture. Feeling you inside of me is such a beautiful feeling.
          I know … I've had several of the "pitfalls" of motherhood pointed out to me in the past several weeks. Still, I eagerly await the opportunity to test my maternal instincts, love, care for, and welcome you into our world. God bless you.

Sunday, February 22, 2026

          God has you in his eternal smile now. Feeling you smile down on me is a bittersweet feeling. I hope I'm giving you enough reasons to smile down. Sometimes, I'm not so sure anything I've done recently is deserving of a smile.
          No pitfalls here, I suppose. Just a dash of self-pity. Forgive me for that. And ask God to do the same, please. In fact, I'll ask Him right now.

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