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.