<Update: Ramara just joined ePm. Originally published 2009-03-18 09:25:35 -0500This is now being posted under her name, but as I originally edited it I am leaving the intro as was. Welcome Ramar! carol>

Ramara will be posting with us directly in future, but this time she asked me to post this for her. Here are two posts which appeared first on Daily Kos (the most recent on Mar. 15, 2005, with a link to the earlier one. With her permission I am posting the first one which is linked in the most recent commentary so that our readers can be fully tuned in.

Health Series:  Fetal Alcohol Syndrome

Saturday my son will turn 24.  He lives in a group setting here in Tucson, receives SSI, and I don't know if I will hear from him so we can do something to celebrate.  He receives case management through the mental health network, and that treatment is court ordered.  The court order expires next month, and I worry that his treatment providers will not seek to have it renewed for another year.  Last time he was not committed, he spent most of his time living on the streets.  Occasionally he was in jail because he missed court dates or violated the restraining order I have.  When he was in jail I breathed easier because he was off the streets.  He needs the structure of the court commitment and the restraining order in order to function at all.

Sometimes as we putter through life, we come across something that triggers an avalanche of memories. Such was the case last Sunday, January 18th, as I worked with Wifey to get a few things done around the house. We still have gobs of things left to be done since Mumsie's passing; we hadn't gone through what appeared to be the nearly infinite piles of things that were left behind, sometimes hiding bits and pieces of our own lives intermingled with bits and baubles that Mumsie had collected, stacked, sorted, unsorted, re-sorted and reassigned as her dementia grew and worsened.

As Wifey and I tried to get an old sewing machine to work so that we could finish a project hanging curtains in the living room, Wifey handed me an envelope with my name on it.

I hadn't seen it in nearly two years, but recognized it instantly. It was from early summer 2007, from one of the editors at ePluribus Media: badges (plastic name badges that looked like stylish credit cards).

The badges had been intended for use at DemocracyFest 2007, where luaptifer and I were slated to give a presentation. The badges had disappeared from my perpetually cluttered office within a day of receiving them, forcing me to question my sanity as I tore apart the office for several days -- backwards, forwards and sideways -- trying to locate them.

Crossposted to DailyKos.

A year has passed now -- has it already been a year?

Mumsie passed away as midnight rolled the calendar from December 18th to 19th last year. It was only recently that we started to gather her things and put them away; some donated (lots of clothing), some to the trash (old mattresses and old furniture)...some things, of course, staying where they'd been for years.

The roses in the window box
Have tilted to one side
Everything about this house
Was born to grow and die

Oh it doesn't seem a year ago
To this very day
You said I'm sorry honey
If I don't change the pace
I can't face another day
        -- "Love Lies Bleeding" lyrics by Bernie Taupin

Some things just seem to need to stay a bit longer.

I posted the following as a comment in the recent DailyKos diary You Are Not Alone by noweasels, but thought it was thoughtful enough to also post as a separate piece -- please also read the piece by noweasels, and thank her for the inspiration.

The rest of what follows below the fold is essentially the entire comment -- two personal submissions for remembrance today that I submitted, plus a parting thought.

...if you're still with me, then jump...

Music and memory are both powerful influences on life; it's not surprising, therefore, that we can often find music and memories mixed throughout human history. In Part I: Stir of Echoes, I reflected upon the passing of my mother-in-law in light of several strange happenings around our house that suggest to us her continued presence and apparent intention to watch over us. I ended by describing how I'd assembled a playlist of music that helped me keep my memories of Mumsie alive by evoking that special stir of echoes that manifest within my heart whenever I hear certain music and melodies. This piece delves into the elements of the playlist and the memories each one embodies. By sharing it, I hope to further share the unique experience of knowing Mumsie as I had come to know her during the twilight of her years.

Sometimes within the brain's old
ghostly house,
I hear, far off, at some forgotten
door,
A music and an eerie faint carouse
And stir of echoes down the
creaking floor.
      --   Archibald Macleish, "Chambers of Imagery"¹

Hawkwife's mother -- my mother-in-law -- passed away December 19th, 2007, at the nursing home where she had lived for less than a year. I affectionately referred to her as "Mumsie" and had served as her primary caretaker from the day Wifey and I married until the time we moved her into the nursing home. Truth to tell, I continued the role even afterward, working to ensure due diligence in her care and facilitate understanding and communications between Mumsie, the staff and us.

The house felt quiet, somewhat empty, when we moved Mumsie to the nursing home. I felt somewhat empty, somewhat relieved, and a little as though I had betrayed not just a friend but a person who had grown to depend upon me to be there to help her.

There are so many ways to second guess the decisions one makes in life, regardless of whether it pertains to something major or minor. With major decisions -- those which impact not just your life but the lives of others -- the tendency to second-guess can explode exponentially into a multitude of "what-ifs" and "if onlys" until the mind and spirit strain under the weight.

We were spared some of this.

Some of it.

We missed Mumsie, but were no longer able to care for her at home without assistance, and we didn't qualify for the assistance we needed.² It was the best thing we could do to ensure the high level of care we'd established for her, albeit at a cost of a level of interaction that I still regret today.

In the aftermath of her passing, as days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, we've come to believe that she gently lingers with us in both memories unbidden and incidents of awkward recognition -- her life spirit, echoing through the halls of body, mind and abode. It is a reassuring feeling, comforting on several levels even while a touch spooky and otherworldly.

Today, my nephew "TJ" would have celebrated his seventh birthday, surrounded by his family, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. He would be seven -- a lucky number -- if he had lived.

He died on February 20, 2003, two days before his second birthday.

After several years of uncertainty about how to post a story I'd written in his memory, I finally posted it last June.¹

Now, as the anniversary of TJ's death passed two days ago and the anniversary of his birth dawns today, I feel that it is only right and fitting to repost the piece here, on the newly redesigned ePluribus Media community page, to both honor my nephew and to further remind folks just how precious the young ones are in our lives. They are the hope for our future; we are their best, last hope that there will be a future for them to inherit. The legacy we have left so far, within the first decade of a new century, is not exactly promising.

The significance of this was driven home, ironically, by Melody Townsel's scary encounter which she originally posted on DailyKos on February 20th.² Her 8 year old child, playing in front of their home, was asked by a stranger to help look for his lost dog. The person could have been innocent, might have really been looking for a dog, and the flyers he claimed to have put up -- which were never found by the police checking into the matter -- may have been pulled down. The person may have shown bad judgement. However, the "lost dog" ruse has become popular of late, and it is also quite possible that the man intended harm.

It wasn't up to Melody to decide that -- it was up to her to respond to the situation in a manner that she felt was appropriate. She did, and then posted about it in order to remind parents of a very important lesson that parents should pass along to their children. It wasn't a cry out for a legacy of fear and distrust but a call for parents to ensure that they've instilled an important lesson for their children's safety.

No matter the reason, the loss of a child is as tragic and terrible as the birth of a child is wonderful and miraculous. We have, through our children, the direct potential for imparting our wisdom (such as it is) and hope for the future through sharing of our experiences, informing them about our past and educating them to the best of our ability to provide them with the tools they'll need to navigate through life's challenges successfully.

The story of my nephew's passing is sad, but the hope, love and laughter he still inspires is wonderful.

Please keep that in mind as you read the piece that follows.

Namaste.