We never met but have communicated for well over a decade. we shared moments of sometimes being the only other person we could talk to about the specter of how PD was ravaging our lives. we laughed and we cried together about our connection in misfortune. I am so sad that we must all go someday, but some people should never been dealt. The hand in life that they end up with.
such is our Lavender Lou . SHe loved life. And gave it her best shot with having very early onset pd. She was a valiant bearer of our cause for a cure. until the day that she started to give up, like we all will.
I love you and all who you were TEna, you just didn't make it.
RIP, my love, c'est la vie. Cs

I bet you were called by your full name a lot growing up. You were sooooo mischievous, but you were as cute as a button, so you got away with lots of stuff, and then you would laugh, because you knew that you got into trouble all by yourself without anybody elses help.

You always spelled my name Micheal, even though you knew it was spelled Michael, and I understood that it was the way that you chose to make me feel special. Thanks for that. I wonder how many others had that kind of relationship with you...probably practically everyone you met. I wonder if God is allowing you to read these messages. I think the answer to that is yes.

We never met in person, but we did talk on the telephone several times. I liked you . I did not understand you half the time, but I liked y ou . This photo that I took in my front yard reminds me of you...a dainty warrior. We will miss you. Micheal

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dear one's son,

as you surely know, you were and are so loved by your mom, who,
as i always imagined her doing, soars unencumbered amongst stars,

and so loved by me and everyone here who knew of you
through her and is sending you thoughts through the ether

she called us "dear one" but, as another traveler on this maddening,
painful, maddening, beautiful road with not one but two sons in tow,

i KNOW it was for you that she labored and for your losses
that she mourned, and that you were and are her ever-dearest

dear one, please forgive her, in time, should you hold any
big or little thing inside, as we almost always do, and instead

let every memory of every kiss and every kindness remind you
of the hundreds more kisses and kindnesses bestowed to you

in her heart if not through her body, ravaged as it was, by all
of this here -- this silliness of cells, this wiliness of cures and, yes,

this occasional poverty of hope, which her beauty seduced and
her generosity replenished -- let it help you imagine how much

she loved and adored you, let it help you feel her again, if only
for the blink of an eye, which just happens to be the time it will take

until she will hold you again with the strong yet steady arms
she always imagined she would hold you with, dearest one, forever

miss her you must; i am heartbroken with you,
rose