If you are one of my faithful and beloved readers of The Zen you might have already read the comments attached to the last post from Lilli (BookBabie) and my response. In her comment she advises me to not overlook signs and coincidences as they pertain to Andrew.

She is right. Maria, my sister in this jouney, is right. Many have offered the same advice and they are also right.

Whether actual visits from my son or simply God's merciful signs I cannot say but I will tell you of a couple of interesting things.

On December 17th some time between 3:30 am when I had last looked at the clock and 5:45am when the alarm rang, I dreamed of Andrew. Okay, its true, I still can't bring myself to say he visited me in a dream but I know you will all understand and be patient with me.

We talked for a while and the dream ended with him sharing three things with me. First I asked what it was like "over there"? He said it was " _________ " and used a word I have never heard before nor can I relay it in any way. I can try to come close. I can try to substitute the word "awesome" but this is a pale and trembling version of what he said. As someone who collects words much like precious keepsakes I would give almost anything to be able to write this word - but it doesn't exist. Not over here at least.

Second I asked him if he would come back to us if he could. He was lightening fast with his answer of "No!" and seemed to chuckle just a little when he said it. And I could almost swear I detected a note of snobbery in his tone - as though I was a fool for asking.

But he did end the conversation by saying that he gets "a little sad sometimes" because he misses us.

When I woke up I immediately dismissed the dream as being of my own making but as I drove to work that morning immersed in a feeling I had never had before I reasoned that in the Bible there are references to people being given dreams by God for their edification or as a warning.

So maybe, just maybe... but then I thought about Andrew saying he was sad and I reasoned that there are no tears in heaven so it had to have been only in my own mind...and then I remembered that in Ephesians 4:30 tell me that the the Holy Spirit of God can be grieved , so maybe...just maybe...

Then this Saturday I met one of Andrew's very best high school friends who I had not seen since 1998. We met at a bar and sat and talked about Andrew for a very long time. It had been an unusually quiet night; I assume everyone was waiting to go out tonight instead of last weekend. Consequently we were able to talk undisturbed. In the middle of our visit a total stranger walked over to the jukebox and fed her dollar in the slot. She pushed a few buttons and walked away. I had to smile.

The song "RockStar" by Nickleback began to play. This is the song that Jamie picked out to play for Andrew at his funeral and it seemed so right that it was playing while Chad and I laughed and cried and remembered.

"...don't over look the signs or coincidences..." I won't, I promise.

So by way of wishing you all a Happy New Year I want to share something Andrew sent me back in November of 2004 when I was going through a very rough time. Andrew didn't include the authors name so I apologize to him or her but the wisdom is from Andrew all the same.

"We should never look back on the trials and tribulation of our life with regret or sadness for they are in some way, shape or form the things that make us immortal. These are the things that teach you about life and give you insight for the journey. Everything we experience whether it is a happy time or a sad time is a lesson on the path to being enlightened and knowledge we can pass on which makes us immortal."


Momma loves you Andrew -

May all your Christmas dreams come true ~

Check out those fancy cowboy boots....I still have them.

I love this picture so much - it shows how at a very young age Andrew was pure joy. Always ready to laugh and be merry. This is genuine Merry Christmas -

Hope all of your Christmas preparations are going well - take time to love each other and make the children laugh - that's what Christmas is all about.

P.S. I love you all very much - Cara

Andrew was four months old in this photo of his first visit to Santa Claus...I'm not real sure that Santa is much older....

Andrew's second Christmas. Notice the tree had to be moved up high? Guess why!

Andrew's first Christmas (1980) - The most precious gift under the tree!

I have this very dear friend named Louie. He's a treasured friend. The kind of guy who would do anything for anyone. And to date Louie has yet to give me his condolences.

About two weeks after Andrew died my best friend Jody spoke with Louie and asked him if he had talked to me. He said no and she asked why and Louie's
answer was that wonderful quirky pure "Louieism" that I know and love.

When Jody asked him why he hadn't called me he said "Because she will be sad."

The weekend ofter Thanksgiving Louie came up to visit and he and I spent a lot of time talking. Out of nowhere, after thirteen months, he mentions my son. Here's how the conversation went:

Louie: You know I remember the first time I met your son. It was when he and Jamie came to Willow Springs for John's party. I remember they drove up in their car and Andrew got out and he had a Mohawk.

Me: I remember. I was mortified. Here he was meeting my friends and he jumps out of the car with that haircut. I was so mad at him and I made him cover it up with a do-rag. And then later he took it off and Kevin had a fit over it and said it was cool and how he wanted one so then I lost that argument.

Louie: I gotta tell you, I didn't like him. I thought he was a freak. You know, based on the way he looked with his hair like that and his piercings and tattoos - I thought he was a freak.

Me: (smiling) ah...but that was Andrew.

Louie: ..but here's the thing...at first I didn't like him and then I heard them talking about how he had gone back to the nursing home where he used to work to visit all them old people and I thought, wow - I couldn't do that.

Me: Andrew was a really good CNA. He was good to those old people and took care of them but what I loved most was they way he made them laugh.

Louie: I know now that first impressions aren't always right because it takes someone special to do what he did.

.....this was worth waiting thirteen months for ......

Andrew took a class called Health Occupations his senior year and became a CNA. He went to work four days after graduation. He came home after his first night and I asked him how everything went and he said fine except for when he tried to remove this man's dentures in order to brush them. He pulled and pulled only to realize the man didn't have dentures.

Andrew loved to cut up and make people laugh - even his residents. He'd show up for work with his hair dyed green one week and blue the next. He'd run around wearing rubber gloves on his head so he looked like a rooster. He'd hide in the medicine cart and pretend to be a prisoner. He'd put a handful of denture cleanser tablets in his mouth so that he was foaming like a rabid dog and hide under the nurses station so he could scare the RN.

My all time favorite stunt was a running gag with one of his residents, Goldie. This little old lady was not really with us anymore. They would get her up and dress her and secure her into a wheel chair and wheel her out into the hallway. This little lady had a habit of yelling over and over what ever she heard last. For instance, if she heard some one say "Mary you have a phone call" she would yell that at the top of her lungs all day long. So Andrew would tell her riotous things that she would in turn yell all afternoon. One of the best was "I like malt liquor". So here's little tiny white haired Goldie, yelling at the top of her lungs

"I love malt liquor....I love malt liquor...."

Now before you think to yourself that this was mean, Andrew loved Goldie. He adored her and took care of her like she was his grandmother. After he moved to St. Louis he never failed to stop by and visit her when he came home for a visit. He took it hard when he went to visit and they told him she was gone...

Andrew hated his job but loved his residents. He was good at his job. He was loved in return.

I've often wondered how many of his residents he has run into since he left us...I hope he found Goldie in particular.

My grandmother, Rubye Lee Mosier-Jordan, holding my mother, Rubye Naoma. This photo was taken in 1925.

My mother, Rubye Naoma Jordan-Zinck, and me Chirstmas of 1957

Andrew and I at his paternal Grandmother's (Adelina Romero - Grandma Nini) home. Summer of 1981.

Thanksgiving 2001 - West Plains, MO.

The last time Andrew went hunting...West Plains, Missouri

Sorry, I can't remember the year but it was at least 5 years ago. I was always a nervous wreck when he was hunting, so afraid he's get hurt.

When he got old enough to understand his father told him that when he got to be a big boy he could go hunting with him. After that every single morning when Andrew woke up he would run to our bedroom and climb in bed between his dad and I and say the same exact thing. "Tell me about hunting Daddy." And his Robert would tell him the exact things he had told him the day before. This went on for a very, very long time.

Once when he was a freshman in high school in Santa Rosa, NM he and his father went hunting. They shot a deer right off the bat and brought it home. Robert hung it by its neck in the out building we had. The deer's back feet were about 4 or 5 inches from the ground and its head was cocked to the side. I was gone and Robert came to get me to tell me they had their deer, leaving Andrew home alone.

When we returned to the house Robert insisted I come out and see the deer. To this day I kick myself for not taking a picture of what awaited us. Robert unlocked the door and flipped the light switch and there was this deer who although still hanging from the rafter now had a blue paisley bandanna tied Cholo headband style around his head, sunglasses on, a cigarette in his mouth and a skateboard that fit perfectly under his back feet.

That was Andrew right there....he was absolutely the funniest person I have ever known in my life....

Tuesday, October 23rd, will be the one year anniversary of my son’s death. I’m posting this today because I plan on being very still and quiet on Tuesday. I will scarcely move a muscle. I will barely breathe. I will sit and wait.

Wait as I have waited for the last 365 days for the earth to come to a screeching halt and stop turning. For gravity to finally let go. For the sun to stop rising and falling. For air to run out. How could it be that all of these things kept right on schedule when my world stopped?

No…that’s not true – my world didn’t stop, it reversed.

My world still turns but it goes backwards and gives me headaches and makes me have dizzy spells.

Gravity on my world is a hundred times heavier than it was one year ago. The act of opening my eyes takes monumental strength.

The sun rises and falls but everything stays a flat shade of gray.

….and there is never enough air to breath, never. And sometimes it feels like there is too much and I think my chest will explode.

My head aches because I think of him so much that there is little room for anything else and yet this life demands that I do. It crams little rubbery facts and trivia in where, if they only knew, there is no more room. Did you buy soap? The car needs gas, the light bill is over due…..what do you want for supper? One more syllable and my head will begin to rip at the seams.

I am screaming…I am screaming as loud as I can but no one hears it. I am screaming that I am gone. The very best of me is gone. I no longer exist but no one notices. I feel raw and exposed and yet those around me see nothing.

I was almost completely gone 365 days ago and what little was left has been lost to a quiet desperation. I am like twilight, slipping away at an undetectable rate until there’s only darkness.

My life has stalled. I sit and wait in the darkness. Listening, but I hear nothing but my own silent screams.

I think what hurts me the most is that my son didn't want to die.

I know that's an absurd statement. No one wants to die. I don't even believe that people who commit suicide "want" to die.

No one wants to stop being. Its true. Even if your life is terrible you don't want to stop being as much as you want to stop being in the state you're in.

Honestly, isn't the desire to believe in reincarnation not about getting to live more or longer but rather getting to live better.

I used to really stand on my soap box about how selfish people are who commit suicide and have no sympathy for them. I've decided to modify my beliefs. I still believe that about people who "threaten" to commit suicide whether they follow through or not.

But now I think there are those who quietly slip away and do what they think they must do. Not so much by choice as by lack of options. And there in lies the true flaw in the process. It is not the lack of options but rather the inability to recognize the options.

And this too is forgivable. If you care traveling down the road in the light of day and you come to an intersection you can survey your surroundings and choose the best path. But if is nightfall. If it is dark. If clouds cover the light of the moon and you can't see the stars and you honestly believe there is only one path are you in fact accountable?

I'll concede that it may or may not be your fault that your traveling in the dark, but you can't control the clouds that cover the stars and moon, your eyes are only human eyes and cannot make out the other paths. Seldom can we control all the factors in our quest for the best solution.

So what's the answer?

Sit down and wait. That's the only thing I can come up with. Wait for the clouds to drift on by and the light of the moon to help you find a safe place to ...wait. Then you wait patiently for the sun to come up and then reassess your options and try to make the best decision based on having all the information available. Then if you make your very best choice and you chose the wrong path and fall off a cliff...well then...you didn't do it - it was an accident.

And all this sitting and waiting in the dark...how long do I wait? I don't know, I can't see my watch in the dark. How do I know its not futile? How do I know that the sun will eventually come up? I don't. I have no guarantees, I only have faith.

One year ago today was the last day I spent in the company of my son.

The last day I heard his voice with my own ears, watched his eyes dance or listened to him laugh. Run my fingers through his thick, thick hair and suggest he get a hair cut, which he did, that very day. I remember telling how good he looked with his hair cut. I remember how proud he was of it.

It was the last day I put my arms around him and felt the warmth of his rough skin as I hugged him, felt him hug me back.

The last time I would say to him in person “Momma loves you” and hear his consistent response “I love you too, mom.”

In less than a month he would be gone.

Yes I had talked to him many times on the phone after that and we always told each other we loved each other. But September 27th was the very last time it would be done in person. I can still see him laughing and waving goodbye from the passenger seat as Jamie pulled the car out of the drive way.

I see that grin and wave every day of my life in my mind and heart. I want to badly to see it once again in reality, but I’ve not been favored with insanity so I know I won’t be seeing it again on this side of the river.

I have spent the last eleven months carrying on as if its okay – but you know its not. It can’t be, never will be. I pretend to be both brave and polite and tell myself and others that it will be different once a full year has passed.

I am a liar.

Andrew was a groomsman in his cousin Joel's wedding about two and a half years ago. While in New Mexico Joel hooked me up with photo's fromt he wedding. Many I had seen but some I hadn't. It is so odd to sit and stare at the pictures of my son. Andrew had times when he was in good health and times when he wasn't. This was one of the latter. The more I looked at the photo's the more I could see how sick he was on this occassions.

This weekend we went camping and I was walking two of the grandchildren (by marriage) down a path under the moonlight when we saw the most beautiful brilliant green shooting star. It traveled across the sky for a ver long time. Green is Andrew's favorite color. I talked about Andrew and my grandson, Zachary, who is four years old said he wanted Andrew to come down from the sky.

So do I Zachary, so do I...

Sunday is August 12th. Sunday, August 12th , is the date for the Perseids Meteor Shower. Sunday, August the 12th is the day my son was born.

There are several events that come along in your lifetime that change you forever. The birth of my son was one of two major events that permanently changed me.

What I learned when my son was born was that I could do anything. Anything!

I had been told this all of my life by my parents but their perception of reality was suspect. Then after several miscarriages I managed to carry and give birth to this perfect little boy. I did it. I did it all by myself.

For twenty six years I had the honor of caring for and knowing this remarkable person.

God must have loved me very much to give me this opportunity.

So this Sunday take time to do two things. One, remember Andrew on his birthday. Second, enjoy the Perseids Meteor Shower - think of them as fireworks for Andrew’s birthday.

THIS IS MY SON WHEN HE WAS A BABY - WHAT YOU CAN'T TELL VERY WELL IN THIS PICTURE WAS THAT HE ALWAYS SUCKED HIS LEFT THUMB.....ALWAYS.....

You could never tell what Andrew was going to look like from one time to the next. This was my favorite hair color and style on him.

HAPPY 4th of JULY!

*Check out that "Kid n Play" hair!

I always loved this picture. Very "James Dean" like...



Andrew would have been 16 years old in this photo. He had just gotten his driver's license in time for the homecoming dance and was all dressed up and ready to go.

I intended to have this up by Father's Day but didn't make it. This photo was taken in about 1983 or 84. We were out at my mother in laws farm in Los Lunas, NM. Andrew loved it there. Jump over to my art blog to see a painting I did of this photo a couple of years later.

Now I'm no photographer but every now and then I can take a pretty good picture. Of all the photo's I've taken this has to be my absolute favorite.
This was taken of Andrew when he was about four years old. We were at his grandmother's place in Los Lunas, New Mexico. By the way. the adobe wall you see in that background was made by Andrew's Grandma Nini - adobes and construction.

When Andrew lived in St. Louis he was a base guitarist for a wicked little punk rock band called "This Strange Device". They played a few local clubs and eventually had the opportunity to open for The Urge. This gave them the opportunity to play for a couple of thousand people. Things didn't go as well as they had expected and they weren't well received.

Now this isn't my generations music so whether it was good or bad, I couldn't say. But what I can tell you is that he had the time of his life. Prior to the performance the band had set up a website and the majority of hits to the website came from girlfriends and family members. Andrew called me the next day after the concert. He was so excited about all the hits to their website that came in after the concert. I laughed and laughed as he proudly read me each of the comments. Comments like "You guys suck" - "You guys ought to die" - "Worst band I ever heard" and on and on.

He was so happy and I said something about the negative feedback and he said it didn't matter to him. What mattered to him was that those people took the time to locate the website and leave a comment.

That was Andrew...that was Paco. It was all good. Even when it was bad it was all good.

This photo of Andrew and Jamie was taken in June of 2005.

Yesterday Jamie emailed me and said she was having a very hard time. She said that she couldn't understand why God gave her someone so perfect for her and then took him away.

Missing him does seem to get any easier. I wonder if it ever will.

I dreamt about Andrew last night.

When Andrew first passed away I would beg God every night to let me dream about him but I never did.

Then as a little time passed I would wake up with a feeling that he had been in a dream but I couldn’t remember. I would just wake up with a strange feeling that was heavy with his presence so I knew he was there I just couldn’t give you any details.

One time I did remember seeing him in the background moving equipment like an extra in a movie.

But it has never been in my nature to dream about people I know. When I first moved to my present home I would dream almost every night that my former husband had come and taken me home. These dreams were distressing and constant for about a month or so. But mostly I seldom dream about anyone I know.

Now I don’t mean to step on any toes here but I don’t believe in ghosts. Well I guess I need to clarify that. I specifically don’t believe that my dead uncle gets to come back from the other side and visit or play trick on me by moving my deodorant. I don’t think my dead grandma turns on lights and my dead dog doesn’t push the screen door open with his nose. Do those things sometimes happen, yes, is it anyone I know, no it isn’t. And trust me; I’m practically an expert on things that go bump in the night.

So I don’t believe my son will ever visit me in my dreams. But I do believe that my mind will visit him in my dreams and possibly on a very special and rare occasion God may send me a dream about my son.

Last night he showed up in a dream. Possibly because I have begun to work out a painting I want to do of him, but for what ever reason, he was there. And this time I asked him if he knew he had a bad asthma attack and he said yes. Then I asked him if he knew he had passed on and he looked so sad. He didn’t answer me. Then, in my dream, I told myself to gaze on his face because I knew I hadn’t seen it in a while and that this was a rare opportunity just to look at him again.

And that was that. The next thing I knew I was trying to catch a shuttle with too many packages and ended up losing my purse. Actually I had a purse but it wasn’t mine and my keys were in my purse which was apparently gone…..

Such are dreams…..

You remember that precious little baby boy I've been showing you pictures of? Well this is what happens when they grow up and leave home and you can't make them get a haircut.

Andrew was about 21 or 22 years old in this photo.

But that gorgeous smile was always the same.

My very first Mother's Day - 1981

This was my very first Mother's Day in which I was the mother. Andrew was nine months old and it was Dedication Sunday at our church, Del Norte Baptist Church in Albuquerque, NM.

For those of you unfamiliar with "Dedication Days" unlike Catholics who baptist infants we dedicate them to the Lord and make a promise to raise them with the knowledge of what God, through his son Jesus Christ, did for each one of us. Then when the child is old enough to make a decision on their own they can choose to be baptised.

I had made Andrew's outfit. Those who know me could tell you what a miracle that was because I don't sew. It was a precious powder blue with the sweetest Peter Rabbit buttons. I still have it....

I remember that Sunday service so well. His father had to work and could not attend but my grandmother, Nonnie, sat beaming from "her pew" (it's a Baptist thing) and I stood before the congregation and promised God that I would raise him in the love and fear of the Lord...and I did.

When Andrew was 10 years old he had his first seizure related to his asthma. We almost lost him that night. Shortly after that he came to me and asked to be Baptised. He made a very mature decision for such a little man based on his understanding of the seriousness of his illness and his comprehension of what it meant to believe...

On this Mother's Day some have tip-toed around me for fear of upsetting me. Yes, this is a tough day for me but...I am still his mother. That will never stop..ever.

And I am the most blessed woman in the world to be his mother for 26 years here on earth and for all eternity.

Bass Pro Museum in Springfield, Missouri 2000
Andrew being the joker he always was.

Here he is in his blue footie pajamas holding a rag doll I made. This would have been right before bedtime. There's that smile again....

It has been six months since Andrew passed away. Feels like it just happened six hours ago and at the same time it seems like 600 hundred years since I've seen him, heard his voice.

A friend of mine who lost her granddaughter recently asked me if it begins to get better. The answer is no.

The shock wears off but it never gets any better.

What does happen is that you become very skilled at incorporating it into your life. You become a master at holding back tears. You learn to lie without blinking when folks casually ask you how you are. You deliver an stellar performance worthy of an Oscar when people want to show you photos of their children. You can go to work and smile and do your job without any visible sign that for you the earth now rotates in the opposite direction and gravity is starting to disappear. You are the only one aware of the fact that at any moment you won't have the strength to keep the world from coming part at the seams.

How do you become so adept at all of this? Well, you have been practicing for 24 hours a day, seven days a week. And you trust, and you pray and most of all your ability to see beyond this world becomes amazingly clear. For the first time you realize how fleeting this life is and that nothing you do in this life, outside of getting ready for what comes next, matters.

I loved and raised a wonderful boy. His life was fleeting. I look forward to what comes next. My only job is to run the good race until then.

Andrew's incredible smile and dancing eyes - priceless.

Five years ago today Andrew and Jamie became a couple.

Just to let you all know. Andrew’s girlfriend Jamie had an emergency appendectomy last night but she is back home tonight and doing well.

Although this isn't the most flattering photo of Andrew I decided to post it because its a great picture of him with his Grandma Nini (Adelina Romero).

First Easter 1981
Second Easter at my Grandmother's house in Albuquerque, NM
Andrew's cousin Joel and Andrew
Andrew, my grandmother Nonnie, Joel and Joel's big brother Ted with his arm around Nonnie
Third Easter -
Wishing you all a blessed and happy Easter.

Below I have posted an exerpt from an email I sent my nephew Joel when asked how I was doing.

You asked me how I was and like I said, its a complicated answer. I laughingly answer when someone asks how I am, "I'm a hostile witness but that's okay." Folks who have the time to listen will stop to ask what in the world I mean. Then my story unfolds. I tell them that I have had the unpleasant privilege of knowing without any shadow of a doubt that I do in fact believe in Jesus and trust God. I tell them what happened and then I add that throughout my life I've always been a believer but its easy to have faith when it costs you nothing. Its easy to go to church, raise your hands, sing your hymns and drop your tarnished silver in the plate but it counts for little while things are going good. We can say we trust God and have faith and when he heals our loved ones or helps us out of a tough spot we can give him the credit but it means nothing without a standard by which to compare it to. Mercifully most of us never have to experience the standard of measurement. We get to keep going only imagining how devastating things could actually be. And I would never wish this reality on anyone I love but.... There is a rare blessing in having to turn over your greatest earthly treasure and still being able to say to God, I trust you. Joel, there is no way for me to explain this. I always knew I believed but it was never tested. Few people get the verification of their personal faith...it is a privilege, I didn't want it, but it is something of rare value. In addition there is a level of fellowship that I would have never experienced outside of this tragedy. The grace and blessings from family and friends have been amazing. People say all the time "Have you gotten mad at God yet for taking Andrew?" I say no, I trust his timing and his wisdom. Most people don't believe me and try to talk me into being mad but I'm not. The strangest thing I hadn't counted on has been God's silence. I have see him moving through others and the fact that I haven't jumped off a bridge is also due to him but I have to admit that I really expected something more direct. He remains quiet but loving and I accept that. I think for the most part what I want to talk about is probably none of my business right now. You know, things like "why?". I was feeling pretty sorry for myself about all this until I heard a preacher on the radio say that sometimes God is silent and we don't know why and he illustrated that by reminding us that even Jesus in his hour of need at the cross found his own father silent. The preacher said that this is one of the mysteries of God. I heard a preacher about 20 years ago talking about the error of "predestination". He used the example that God doesn't preordain that we will do this or that but he does know in advance what we will do. Then he explained it this way, for us time on earth moves horizontally. From beginning to end in a line. But for God sitting high on his throne time on earth moved vertically. He can see it all at once. Our birth, life and death is all able to be seen from his vantage point. Much like if we were on a hill that overlooks a town, we would be able to see a car leave is garage on one side and drive>west toward a washed out bridge. We don't make it go off the bridge but we know whats gonna happen (does that make sense?) Anyway, I kinda molded that notion to my own use. If there is anything to the theory that time moves vertically then the space between Andrews death and my own departure doesn't exist. I know, this isn't biblical but its interesting to ponder. Also, just for fun, one of my coworkers who was a math major in college helped me do a reverse calculation using the verse a day with the Lord is as a thousand years and a thousand years is as a day. Now keep in mind we took it completely out of context just for the sake of entertainment. He worked to fast for me to get it all but he figured that if the two time spans were interchangeable (and reversed) I could live another 30-40 years and it would be only about an hour in heaven. So sometimes when I'm really down I let myself think of it that way. I just keep telling myself, I'll be there in an hour.....

Oh well, you win some and you lose some.....