Seventeen years ago he took his life

Sometime between 2:00 AM and time to head for work in the morning of April 9, 2008, Leif ended his life. We only know that because he was with a friend until around 2:00 AM, and he didn't show up for work. His supervisor called me to see if I knew whether he was all right, because Leif was a dependable employee. We tried to reach him all day, hoping he was either off somewhere (since it originally had been planned for a day off for him), sleeping, ill, or something. No one could reach him. The next morning we drove to Tampa to his apartment. The manager let us into his locked apartment, and we found him dead on his kitchen floor.

I've never written, or even told, all the details of that morning, and I probably never will. It was devastating. The man who lived only until the age of 33 grew from this darling child. This photo was taken in Sachsen bei Ansbach, Germany, in October 1979 when he was four years old. I have to smile at the boy almost perpetually needing a haircut. I was the one who cut his hair, and he resisted it until I insisted. But, I loved his soft brown hair, which became a much darker brown when he was an adult, and in high school, when he didn't have Mommy trying to give him a haircut, he let it grow long and luxurious. Unfortunately, as he grew through his twenties, he started to get bald and then decided to shave his head. He was a handsome man with or without hair. 

This is the first year since his death that the years have crossed the threshold; he has now been dead for more than half the years he lived. Seventeen years doesn't seem like such a long time. I can still see him sitting in the kitchen, or at the dining room table, or driving up to the house in his RX7 with the stereo system blaring. I can still hear his chuckle, and his teasing about my driving, "Mom, you've always driven like an old lady."

I miss him, every day of my life. 

 

Sometimes it hits without warning

 

It's been almost 17 years. In two days. Life goes on, and while we talk about Leif every day, and memories are always with us, grief and tears hide behind the closed door most of the time. But we never know what will open it. It's usually a surprise. 

Like today, while we were listening to the audiobook of Isaacson's biography of Elon Musk, and they were making a robot they called Optimus Prime, after a toy robot/truck, I started crying. No warning. Just the sudden memory of a little boy who loved that toy long ago when we lived in Japan. How much he played with it, and all the other fantastic shape-changing robot toys the boys had. 

I miss that little boy. I miss the man. We have so many photos of him, but none that I can find that show him with the robots or Optimus. Maybe there's one that hasn't been scanned yet. But not for today. 

So, instead here's a photo of him in Atami, Japan among the blooming plum trees, February 1981. He had just celebrated his sixth birthday. What he has in his mouth is a handmade bird whistle. We were on a family day trip. He needed a haircut, as my boys often did. I cut their hair, and they resisted getting it cut, whether I did it or not. It was funny, later, when they saw photos as adults and remarked on why I "let" that happen 

Ah, Leif, we miss you so!

He would have been 50 years old today

He would have been 50 years old today. He was 29 in this photo (one of my favorites), happy and "going places" until shortly after this when the woman he loved suddenly left him. He only made it to 33. He has now been gone from us for half as long as he lived, and still, everyday, he is a part of our lives. What would he look like at 50? What would his life have been like if he had been able to get past the horrible years he had in 2007 and the beginning of 2008? What might he have found for purpose? He had so much to give, and nowhere to give it. No one to love, at least not in a romantic relationship. Could he have overcome his terrible asthma? I can't imagine how horrible it must have been not to be able to breathe.

We will miss him, his boisterous "gentle giant" presence, his bear hugs, his sense of humor, his infectious laugh, his patient ability to explain things, and so much more, every day of our lives. I hope others remember him, as so many did right after he died in 2008. I hope they still think of him. I don't think he ever really knew how many people cared for him. I want him back.

 

I dreamed about him this morning.

We don't remember many of our dreams, so I don't know how many times I've dreamed about Leif. I only remember two or three. This morning, just before I was awakened, I was dreaming of him, and I remember the dream clearly. I was walking somewhere in a craggy landscape and looked up on some rocks above me and there he was. He wasn't in his SCA armor, like in this photo, but it was the same tall, powerful, imposing presence, with that intelligent, engaging look. I was surprised to see him and asked, "What are you doing here?" 

About that moment, my foot slipped and I started to fall over a long drop-off. He reached down and grabbed my hand and pulled me a long way back up. He rescued me. I said something like, "You came," and he just hugged me. 

Most of the time, my sadness about Leif's death and the fact that he is no longer with us is locked behind the door we learn to close on grief, but it gets loose in the days approaching Christmas, New Years, his birthday, the Fourth of July (which he loved), and I realize all over again he won't be with us. It certainly hit me today after this dream, or maybe because of it. Once again, he won't be here. 2007 was the last time we saw him for Christmas. He was sad and depressed then, though he perked up a little when he got to play with his nieces. Little did we know it would be the last Christmas together. 

I have been tearing up all day, thinking about this dream and about him. What does it mean, him appearing to rescue me from falling over a precipice? I don't feel like my life is on the brink. The mind is a mysterious thing. 

Merry Christmas, Leif. I will always wish you would be home for Christmas.
 

He wanted to SEE everything

I miss my little boys but I realize how lucky I was to have them, two beautiful, curious, intelligent creatures that kept me challenged. Leif always wanted to be UP where he could see everything that was going on around him. I found I could do just about anything around the house if I carried him around in a baby backpack, but if I put him down, he would wail. If he could crawl and get to something interesting, that was okay, but otherwise, he wanted to be carried in some fashion until he could pull himself up and walk. 

I made many a meal with that heavy little fellow jouncing up and down on my back. He was strong, and he would hook his little toes in the support that ran across my lower back and "jump" up and down with glee.

This photo was taken by my mother. It hadn't seen the light of day because it was so badly exposed and color shifted that she had never printed it or showed it to anyone. I'm surprised she didn't just throw the slide away. As hard as I worked with PhotoShop, I couldn't get the color and exposure right. For instance, the cabinet walls were a supposed to be a lovely shade of blue. The shirt I'm wearing actually had a brown background color. Our faces in the original slide were a lurid magenta-red. So, this will have to do, but I love it because he looks joyful and brings back the memories of those days in that kitchen, in a house no longer standing. It was taken early in 1976 when he was just over a year old.

 

We were at sea on the 16th anniversary of his death

 

Leif died sixteen years ago on April 9, 2008. Not a day goes by when we don't talk about him and miss him. This year, we were at sea on a transatlantic cruise and I couldn't help but remember how much he loved the sea. He would have gloried in the waves and wind. How I wish we could have given him that pleasure.

I am always happy when I discover photos of Leif I didn't know existed. This one was taken by my mother in November 1975 when Leif was ten months old, in the old stone house in Manhattan, Kansas. What a joyful moment.  

April 9 it will be 16 years

The last photo taken of Leif was this selfie. We don't know why he took it on March 11, 2008, unless maybe he wanted to send it to a woman he hoped to date (there was someone he had met). He didn't send it to us. I found it on his phone after he died. 

We saw him on Easter, which was on March 23rd, and had a good time with him at our Easter dinner. I wish I had taken a photo of him then, or of the three of us, but I had no idea it would be the last time we would see him alive. Seventeen days later, he was dead. 

At Easter, he seemed full of hope and plans, very interested in a woman he had met, hoping to move to Orlando and date her. How could it all collapse so fast? No matter how many times I go over it in my mind, I still think some necessary piece of information is missing. He had survived so much, but something made him snap. He had spent the evening with friends, and texting with several of us about music and technology. No hint of any planning for suicide. He was even talking about ordering the music of a German band he had discovered. So, what happened? We will never know.

We miss him ever day. 

 

He would have been 49 years old today

 

He was a beautiful child, so beautiful that sometimes strangers stopped us on the street to say so. He was eager and bright and always curious and investigating. He was born fast and loved speed. He learned to walk early. He was introspective and observed the life around him. 

We miss him every day of our lives, and most especially on his birthday. This photo was taken in the fall of 1975 when he was not yet one year old.

Leif and his stuffed animals

He was a boy who loved cars, planes, ships, any vehicle, especially if it was fast. He loved guns, James Bond, Star Wars, Star Trek, movies, computer games. He liked to go to the beach. And, he loved stuffed animals. He loved to snuggle up with them, an acceptable form of cuddling for him. He wasn't a particularly cuddly or affectionate child, but he hugged and loved up his stuffed animals, especially Fluffy, the big beige bear in the center of this picture, given to him by his Aunt Lannay. Some of these were brought to him by his dad when he returned from TDY trips to Korea. Some were gifts. He treasured them all. This photo was taken in May 1984 in Honolulu, Hawaii, where we were living at the time. He was nine years old and in his pajamas. He was just so cute with his armload of cuddly "pets" I had to take the photo. 
 

Fifteen Years Ago

Fifteen years ago we approached Leif's apartment entrance with great trepidation. We were terrified about what we might find, but it was far worse than we imagined. The day before, we received a call from his work supervisor, who called us as his emergency contacts, because Leif had not shown up for work, or called in. He had tried to contact Leif without success and said that Leif never just skipped out on work. He was concerned.

So were we! But we hoped that maybe he was depressed and hiding out, or had gone to Orlando to see the woman he was dating, or thought he had changed his work schedule, or gotten drunk and was sleeping it off. We tried repeatedly throughout the day to contact him via phone and text messages but got no response. Then I tried calling the hospitals to see if he had been admitted after an accident or something. I did not find him. I tried calling his friend Michael, who said he had been with him the night before, but hadn't heard from him that day, April 9th. He lived an hour and a half away, so he couldn't just go over the Leif's apartment to check on him. We should have. 

But, he was an adult. It seemed intrusive to burst in on him if he didn't want to talk, so we waited. We had no idea he was already dead. 

The next morning, with no contact, we decided we had to go to his apartment and see him. Peter W. was too wrought to drive, so I drove there. We discussed that if both his vehicles, his car and motorcycle, were in the parking lot, it was a bad sign....and they were. 

The apartment door was locked. Calling, knocking, nothing got an answer, so we went to the apartment complex office and asked the manager on duty to let us into his apartment because we were worried something had happened to him. To my surprise, she agreed to do so without an argument. 

We went in, looking into the first rooms, the bedroom and bathroom, and didn't see him. Then we looked in the kitchen and he was there on the floor surrounded by a large and thick pool of blood and tissue, his head and upper back against the refrigerator door, his feet under the edge of the cabinet. A gun was on the counter. At first glance, it looked to me like he had shot himself in they eye, but I quickly saw the gunshot wound in the center of his forehead. I remember the two of us saying, "No, no no!" 

Peter W. was in agony and I told him not to look. I got him out of the kitchen and called the sheriff's office. I knew we could not touch Leif, or anything in that kitchen, because there would be an investigation, when the only think I wanted to do was hold my son. I will always regret that I couldn't, and didn't. 

The detective came. She found the bullet casings. We asked her personnel to be sure all his guns had no ammo in them. He had several more. She said to get everything of value out of there or it would be stolen. We had to get help to get his car and motorcycle to our home, and we packed up the computers, guns, guitars, and anything else of value we could in a neighbor's pickup truck. He and his wife were kind enough to drop what they were doing and drive to Tampa to help us.

I called the insurance company. We drove home. I called family members. All of this sounds so dry and matter-of-fact, but our hearts were broken. There weren't enough tears to every cry it out. 

He had been dead a day, but his death certificate says "Found April 10, 2008." The autopsy says it was a suicide and I talked to the pathologist who did the autopsy and asked how he knew that. He said it was a contact wound, meaning the gun was against his head....the gun he bought the day before.

Fifteen years and I still miss him every day of my life.