Yesterday I had to deal with a situation of child abuse. It impacted me on a huge scale and must have still been on my mind when I fell asleep last night.
I dreamed Andrew was about 5 years old and someone had decided to discipline him by making him sit on a shelf. ( You know how weird dreams can be sometimes.)
So I came into the room where there was this big metal cabinet (the kind you commonly see in a garage) and I opened the metal door and Andrew was sitting on a shelf looking almost identical to this photo. He was smiling and having the time of his life - not the least bit distressed. I held out my arms and he came to me and wrapped himself around me in a big hug. I held him and hugged him so tight, sort of knowing in the back of my mind that being able to touch him was unusual.
The thing is, it reminded me of times when I disciplined Andrew. It was always a challenge because he always enjoyed himself no matter what. I was wasting my time to send him to his room or make him stand in the corner. He would immediately started day dreaming and playing with his fingers or something equally non-removable and be having a great time. Although frustrating, I loved that about him.

This was an interior shot of Andrew's first apartment.

If ever I didn't know what was going on in my son's life - this was it.

It was his first place of his own and he very much didn't want his mom to be a part of it. He wanted to test his wings and fly solo. He would have been about 18 or 19 years old, I can't remember. I didn't know it was it would ever be important to remember - always thought I would be able to just ask him how old he had been...either way, I was not generally welcomed there.

He was working full time and had enough income to afford this place that as I mentioned earlier was "piece" of what had been a large house at one time. The front door opened into a room that was both his living room and bedroom. That room opened into the kitchen area and then there was a tiny dark frightening bathroom off of the kitchen. You could say the living room/bedroom and kitchen were pretty much one large room. When I look back it was a actually very roomy area.

Lots of light - the windows you see in the photo were high enough up that he didn't have to worry about any one pressing their face against the glass to look in. Consequently he put his twin size bed into the bay of the window where he could sit by day and lay by night and look out the window.

Andrew was a slob! There is no delicate way to describe his surroundings. He couldn't care less what anyone thought about it either. Despite years of training, arguing and tears he enjoyed living among piles of clothes, shoes, skateboards, guitars and books. Stacks and stacks of books. I have told you before that he was an avid reader and would have a book in every room that he was reading. Jamie tells me that it was nothing for him to be reading five books at the same time. Now in his own place he went from bad to worse. But as he reminded me often - he was the one paying the rent and it was none of my business....and he was right.

I believe this was a difficult time for him in several ways. He broke up with a long time girlfriend about this time and was probably more alone in that apartment than he realized when he rented it. He was quickly learning that some friends are not true friends - more like bums and moochers. I also remember a friend hanging out over there who had brought along another friend, a girl about 13 or 14 years old.

She thought Andrew hung the moon but Andrew was smart enough to not go near her. She would constantly call him and come over. He had to spend much of his time hiding from her. Many nights he would come home and park his car in our driveway and ask me to give him a ride back to his apartment so he could be home without her seeing his car and stopping by.

He became very restless and disillusioned about this time and decided he wanted to move back to New Mexico. (I'll write more about that later.) So sure enough he gave away all of his things and packed up his car and he and his cousin drove back and got an apartment together. I was so sad to see him go but I was also very excited for him.

I was always a terrible mother hen. Because of his illness I worried constantly about him. I drove him crazy checking on him to see that he was okay. I can remember waking up at 4am worried about him and getting in my car and driving by his house. I didn't stop because he wouldn't like it and I didn't want to admit how obsessed I was with his safety.

At the same time I knew I didn't want him to be smothered. I also knew I couldn't help but do it so in a very strange way I was glad that he left and went back to New Mexico. As much as I worried about him I also encouraged him to have adventures and never once tried to keep him "down on the farm". My life with him was a constant struggle to not be afraid and to encourage growth and independence in him. Ironic now that I think about it.

I remember two separate things about his place very clearly. One time I stopped by and he was there alone. He was riding his scooter (you remember they were all the rage about 8 years ago - these little scooters about the size of a skateboard with little motors on them) in this large loop through the living room/bedroom and into the kitchen. He never stopped while I was there. He was friendly and talkative but kept going round and round in circles until I gave up and left.

The other memory bothers me greatly. It was after his break up with the girlfriend and I stopped by to see how he was doing. He opened the door wide but told me that he didn't want me to come it. He wanted to be alone. I glanced in the apartment and he had sheets and sheets of notebook paper that he had completely filled from top to bottom with his writing. They were all taped up on the walls. The wall was covered with them. I asked about it and he said he was just doing some writing and that it was private. I worried a lot about him during that phase and watched him closer than usual (hence the 4am drive bys) but he came out on the other side just fine. Soon he pulled the writing off the walls -threw them away- and embarked on a new adventure in Las Vegas, NM.

Years later we joked about his "manifesto" plastered on the apartment walls. I will always wonder what it said... Irregardless, he was always able to overcome even the darkest hour and walk away laughing...I bet he's still laughing...

I dreamed about Andrew again last night. Do you know how unusual it is for me to dream about him at all let alone so close together to the last dream? But I'm not complaining.

The photo above is of the outside of Andrew's very first apartment. This old house in West Plains had been carved into several apartments. His was on the ground floor looking out at the street. It was old and dilapidated but still really cool for a young man's first place. In a couple of days I will post another photo and tell you some stories about the time he lived here, for now I want to tell you about my dream last night.

Last night I dreamed I had parked my brand new pickup truck in a very isolated (read: dumb) place to park and I went to check on it. There were a couple of people with me and when we got there sure enough someone had tried unsuccessfully to steal the battery. We managed to put it back in and I knew I had to move the truck. I think Andrew was one of the other's in the dream but I can't swear to it. That's the way it is sometimes - I wake up with a general feeling that I have seen him in my sleep.

But the next dream was very vivid and I woke up remembering it. I dreamed that after I got back from moving the truck I went into my own house and could see some of Andrew's knick - knacks were sitting on the table and I knew he had been there digging through his old stuff and retrieving things. You'd have to know Andrew - he was (like his mom) a collector of things, very sentimental and enjoyed being himself so much that regardless of how old he got he would still cherish the things he had as a child. He got a kick out of showing them off - they were his collectibles. He collected Mechanical Elmo's - you know - the ones that sing or dance. He always got one from me for Christmas - always, right up to his last Christmas.

Anyway, it was so normal to see these few things he had pulled out of storage and set aside. He wasn't in my house so I gathered them up and took the next door to a single wide trailer that I knew Andrew had recently moved into. I went in and there he was, sitting on the floor (no furniture) doing something on his laptop. The counters were completely covered with glasses of various kinds very neatly stacked. There was a dark haired woman - older than he cleaning the kitchen floor. Andrew told me that she was the former tenant and had just come to finish cleaning up and getting the last of her things so he could move in.

I remember thinking that for a single wide (and a rental no less) it was incredibly clean and really pretty cool inside. The carpet was purple..when Andrew was young that was his favorite color until someone told him it was a "girl color" then he switched to green. Which is why my Nautical Star tattoo is green and purple.

I told him that I thought this was a pretty nice place and that I would be tickled if he bought it and stayed here since it was right next door to me. He said he's think about it.

Now in real life there would be no way that he'd live near me. I worried about him too much and it drove him crazy. His favorite thing was to refer to me as "A Chihuahua on Crack" when talking about my lecturing. I think that's very funny -

That's pretty much the whole dream. One thing I can't seem to find the words for is how I feel when I wake up and know that I have seen him. The fact that it feels so real is very important to me. Its one of the things that helps me make it. Then there is the whole deal where I try to figure out the dream. I would like to think that this one means that he is very near me.

Last time I talked to Jamie (she's working 70 hours a week and hasn't had much free time to come for a visit) she said that she had recently dreamed that she and someone else were trying to climb up a very steep muddy slope. She kept sliding down and having to start over. She said that Andrew was with her the whole time and kept encouraging her. She finally made it to the top and the other person with her didn't. There were people waiting for her at the top and they asked her how she made it up such an impossible climb. She told them that she made it because Andrew was with her. (Although he had kind of disappeared by this time)

Now here's the neat part, she said that when she woke up she instantly knew she could make it. No matter what happened she was going to be okay because Andrew is with her, helping her. I love that.

I don't know what I believe about dreams. I believe they are important and not random. I don't think God would give us the ability to dream unless he meant for it to assist us in some way. We know from the stories in the Bible that God sent dreams to warn people or give them wisdom so I know they are important.

It goes against my personal beliefs to think that either dream, hers or mine means that Andrew is "Our Guardian Angel". Sorry folks - can't believe it. Based on what I understand about the nature of angels and the nature of our spirit I know that to believe that someone was an angle would imply a demotion of sorts. God created angles for a purpose and us for a higher purpose.

But I can believe that God sent a message in the form of a dream telling us that its all okay. That Andrew is close, he still knows us and cares for us and wants us to be comforted by that information. But just like him not hanging around Jamie once she was up the hill or the fact that he was working on his laptop or shopping (as in the most recent dream) is telling us that he isn't idle over there - he has things to do - he loves us but has to get back to what he doing.

And that's very cool.

I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamed I was headed somewhere and got detoured to a huge indoor swap meet. It had the best stuff I had ever seen at a swap meet. Really good stuff that was really cheap.

I found this set of mixing bowls that I have been eyeing on eBay. They are these wonderful pink (like the color on the old Teaberry Gum packages) Pyrex bowls in what was called the Gooseberry Pattern. They were mark $4.25 for the set. I only had to pay $3.50 for them. A total steal!

I was standing at the checkout table after having completed my purchase and was talking to the other people standing there. Suddenly the door opened and Andrew came in. I was so surprised and delighted. I said "Andrew, I'm so glad you're here. I was just thinking how much you would like this stuff they are selling." Then I grabbed him and hugged him as tight as I possibly could. He was friendly but didn't hug back - didn't say anything that I remember, just smiled and then went on to browse through the swap meet. I returned to the group of people I was talking to and pointed Andrew out to them. I said "That's my son. He died about six months ago but now he's back."

Isn't that odd? I have often wanted to make physical contact with him in past dreams but never did. It was like there was a veil I couldn't reach past. But last night I held on to him for a very long time.

I woke up so happy. I was elated to have had the chance to hold him again even if it was only in a dream. Then I headed to the shower to get ready for work. We have a radio on in the bathroom at all times (It's hooked up to the light switch) and as I began my shower this song came on.

What makes this interesting is that Andrew loved this song and had just discovered it at the time of his death. He was trying to learn it so Jamie said he played it over and over and over and over... She said he had gotten very good at the vocals.

She requested that it be played at his funeral. I hadn't heard it since I was a teenager and had almost forgotten about it. (Since then I have it on my IPod and hear it frequently.) But, I can't recall hearing it on the radio at all. I thought it was intriguing that it would play right after I dreamed about Andrew.

As I sang along with the radio I couldn't help but smile and say, yes - you really blew my mind.

Today is the day we set aside to celebrate our independence. One of the ways we do this is to shoot off wonderfully colorful fireworks. So, since Andrew was a real firecracker in his own way I thought I'd post some "Paco Fireworks" in the form of his various hair colors. Not really red, white and blue, more like red, yellow and green but totally Paco all the same.

Ironically, this is what happens when children celebrate their independence from the influence of their mother who would have never approved of him dying his gorgeous hair.

Hope you have a wonderful Fourth of July. Be safe -

Happy Fathers Day

Today on The Oprah Winfrey Show the topic was the grieving of family members who lost their children in very tragic circumstances...nightmare situations...

I sat and cried and shook my head "yes" as I listened to them tell their stories. There is an empathy that no one except those of us in this "group" (that no one ever wanted to join) has for other parents that no one can begin to comprehend.

The mother of the beautiful child killed in a car accident said that she can't believe she has continued to exist for two more years after this tragedy. I understand that. When Andrew's first anniversary rolled around I was devastated to reach a point where I would no longer refer to losing him in terms of months and now speak of years. How could that happen? How did I live past that very first sundown? I don't know.

But I do know.

I know that bad things happen. With no rhyme or reason bad things happen. As much as we hope they never happen to us there is no real reason why they shouldn't. I'm not special or magic. I, like everyone else, live in an imperfect world and tragedy is without prejudice, it follows no profiles when it seeks out a victim. It just happens.

And although my Andrew didn't leave this earth in such a traumatic way as the families on today's show, it doesn't mean that his untimely passing wasn't hard. I have spent my fair share of time second guessing decisions that were made in regards to his health from the time he was born and wondering if something could have been done differently that would have changed the outcome. I could drive myself crazy "what if-ing", and sometimes I do.

But what helps me...what keeps me from stepping in front of a train (because that's what you secretly want to do a lot of the time) is the assurance that even if I have to go on for another 20 or 30 years without him, it's still less than a blink of an eye in the scope of eternity. One day I will close my eyes and open them again on the other side of the river and it will be as though it never happened. He will be there along with my grand parents, my mother, maybe my dad ( I will be curious to see how that worked out), and all of the people I have loved in my lifetime and all the rest I will love for eternity.

Its not a pacifying tactic, not a coping mechanism. It is what it is.....the truth.

From "The Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam"

" Alike for those who for Today prepare,

And those that after a Tomorrow stare,

A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries

"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"

* * *

Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise to talk; one thing is certain, that life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies."

* * *

I can't move forward much less fly if my life is weighed down with grief and sorrow, and I want to fly..in more ways than one. And Andrew would want me to.

As I have struggled with my own health issues I have thought so much about Andrew. I have a renewed appreciation for how hard it must have been for Andrew to be so sick all of his life. I miss him so much, he really was the neatest kid in the world. So damn funny - I miss that.

I wish I could say that I saw him and spoke to him and came away with a nugget of wisdom but its just not there.

This life is such a mystery. And I think that's cool - I don't know why I didn't follow him through that gate, I feel very confident that staying was the right thing -

Please hop over to The Capricious Painter for an update on my recent absence.

Andrew was only five years old when this song was released. Believe it or not he was already developing his own taste in music. This was the first contemporary music cassette tape I can remember buying him. He loved this song.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears For Fears

I seldom cry when I post something to The Zen, but this picture makes me cry.

When Andrew was 3 years old I quit my job to stay home with him. I was fortunate enough to stay home for the first 8 years that Andrew was in school. I still needed to have some income so I babysat. Andrew wasn't much over 5 years old in this picture. He decided to put on a puppet show for the kids I watched. He set it up and used his toys as the puppets. He did all the characters and thier voices. This was Andrew.

This picture makes me cry.

Crying...its one of those things that creeps people out. They don't know what to do with me when I cry, so I try not to do it too often in front of people. But I'm crying all the time on the inside. No that's not quite true, its more like alternating between crying and screaming. But I do it real quiet, on the inside.

I'm falling apart, not really getting much better, maybe even worse. This is a hard thing, the hardest ever. Last week my husband and his cousin planted a tree in the front yard for Andrew. A Mimosa...Andrew would have like this very much...and they are ordering a plaque and asked what I wanted inscribed on it. I knew immediately..it will say

"Be Still and know that I am God" Psalms 46:10
In Memory of Andrew "Paco" Romero
1980-2006

The 46th Psalm reminds us that God is our strength and our refuge. I remember this every moment of every day. When Andrew first died I said to myself, "I don't understand why but I know that God knows more about this than I do." I trust God completely in this tragedy, it doesn't stop the pain, but it makes it bearable to get through one more day.

Nautical Star

The sun comes up each morning
Feel your hand reach out for mine
Hear your whistling in the songbirds
As the sundial marks the time

I always seem to just miss you
Thought I heard you in the breeze
Caught a quick glimpse of you moving
In a canopy of trees

Heard your laughter in thunder
When your joking rain was done
Saw your eyes dance in the lightening
Always teasing just for fun

You ran too fast to catch you
You left me without goodbye
I look for you all day long now
Come and find me, tell me why

Late night moon says he knows you
The stars spell out your sweet name
Wishing you would come back home now
Come back home from where you came.

Dance me in the darkness
Play me music I can’t hear
Feel the rhythm of your heartbeat
Whisper low and draw me near

Come home now starlight strider
Return my nautical star
Searching for that galaxy rider
Bring me home to where you are

Just for fun I created a new constellation - Its called "Paco" and its sign is the Joker - many are born under other signs but choose this one. Those who identify themselves as "Paco's" are loving and much loved, talented, intelligent, funny, entertaining, joyful, passionate, prone to great depths of emotions, extremely witty, sensitive, caring, impatient and most uniquely the ability to see beyond the day to day.

I was born a Gemini - I changing to a Paco... anybody else?

Jamie requested this song be played for Andrew at his funeral.

Its so Andrew -

In past posts you have heard me talk about this is the song always being played when I'm out. Its like he always right there with me -

A wonderful surprise and touching tribute by Sandy. Sandy is an incredibly talented artist and photographer and I am so honored by her post today.

Please visit the link below:


http://sandy-everydayart.blogspot.com/

Doesn't this just make you smile all over?

..just because he's so darn cute!

Or at least something to give you a warm feeling in the middle of winter. Andrew took karate lessons when he was about five years old. He got up to an orange belt before deciding he wasn't interested anymore. Then when he was a senior in high school he decided to go back into training. He did very well and then one day, poof, just like that he decided he was done with it. His instructor came to see me and told me that he had never seen anyone with the natural talent that Andrew had for the sport. We all begged him to reconsider but Andrew was Andrew - and on to something else.

Over the next couple of days I will post some of the photos of Andrew in his karate outfit (yes I know it has a name, I just don't know how to spell it - ha!) These were taken when he was five or six years old by the Kim Jew Studio in Albuquerque -

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.