I wonder how often I dream about him and don't remember the dreams. He lives on, in my subconscious, as well as my daily thoughts.
I've also recently found a few new photos of Leif, slides taken by my mother in her visits to us in Germany in 1978 and 1979. I've never seen them before, since she never projected them or made print copies. The photo at left is one of them, taken in the town of Scheffau, Austria, in August 1979 when Leif was four-and-a-half years old. That's him in the red shirt. I wish he were facing the camera. He seems to be trying to pull me toward something,
Scheffau was a favorite destination of ours. We went there in the winter for skiing on the Wilder Kaiser mountain, and in the summer for the beautiful mountain scenery. Since we left Germany in the summer of 1980 when Leif was only five years old, I doubt that he had memories of this, but we had such good times there.
Peter W. was looking through photos of Leif a couple of days ago and said, "We gave him a good life." Yes, we certainly tried to, and I think we succeeded when he was a child in our care, and Scheffau was a part of that. Life was not good to him as an adult, when everything he tried seemed to disintegrate.
There are so many reminders of him everywhere. Last week I came out of Walmart to find a gray RX8 parked just one space away from my car. Leif's was silver, so I knew it wasn't his, but it was so close it startled me.
The third weekend of July we had a family reunion in honor of my mother's coming 100th birthday. Every one of her descendants were there except Leif. This is now the third family reunion he has missed. It brings tears to my eyes that Leif was the only one not present. He would have enjoyed it, seeing his cousins and nieces and nephew, aunts and uncles.
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