Leif in the Leaves

Once upon a time, he was a joyful baby relishing the leaves in the fall. He was our little explorer, toddling around in the silly striped overalls I sewed for him, typical 1970s garb, I guess. Once upon a time, we looked forward to his future. Little did we know that 32 years later, he would no longer be with us.

Once upon a time, I listened to the music he loved, and to him playing the guitar solos from those rock songs, and they were just songs. Now, I go to the neighborhood pool where the radio on the loudspeaker blares out classic rock that reminds me so of him it makes me sad.

Once upon a time, this little boy had a future.

I dreamed about him last night, not as a baby, but as a man, and I called him "Alex," and then asked him if it was still okay to call him that instead of Leif. He laughed and called me, "silly mommy." Just what he would have done in real life.

I miss him.

This photo was taken in October 1975 in the back yard of our old stone house. It no longer exists, either.

Leif on a Sailboat

I'm always hoping to find a photo of Leif I've never seen, that someone will have taken one, or more, that was never shared with me before. It's a rare delight, but it happened today. Peter was scanning negatives of photos he took during our years on Puerto Rico and this was on one roll, along with many others I HAD seen before. We were out sailing in the waters on the northeast side of the island. In most of the photos, Leif has on his Oakley sunglasses (here around his neck) and a blue shirt, but here, only his sailor's gloves. It surprises me to see him wearing a cross, because he was not religious, and I have no idea whose tiny ring he has on a chain around his neck. They will stay mysteries. The lighting in the late afternoon sun makes his hair look red instead of dark brown, and it looks this reddish color in all the photos taken that day.

Leif inherited my love of being out on the water and sailing. I think he missed his calling and should have gone into the Coast Guard. But, the requirements were stiff and he wasn't driven enough to pursue it, though if he had, he might well have had the same physical problems he had with the Air Force and the Army. I think he would have been good in the merchant marine, but he didn't want a career that would keep him away from a family for months at a time. We sent him on a teen sail summer program when we lived in Puerto Rico and he loved it. He went on two cruises with us. I wish we could have taken him on more.

Finding photos like this is bittersweet. I love seeing them, seeing something new of him, but it also makes me sad that he is no longer with us. It still hurts every day, even after more than eleven years.

Eleven Years

Forty-two years ago, on April 10, 1977, it was Easter. We were living in Charlottesville, Virginia, and  two-year-old Leif was excited to be looking for his Easter basket.

Today, it is eleven years since we found his lifeless body on April 10, 2008.

We can look back on this beautiful child with love and longing, and gratitude for the years we had him.

We went to the cemetery today. In all these eleven years, this is the first time I have gone there without tears. They could have come, if I had let them, but I had my tears yesterday, and was glad that today, a beautiful sunny spring day, we could visit the cemetery without such wrenching grief, and talk about him with both sadness and happiness.

I am grateful for every picture I have of him. There is a Facebook meme going around today saying that you should make sure you are in photos because someday that's all your children will have of you. For us, except for a very few of his possessions, photos and memories are all we have of Leif. They are treasures.

Eleven Years

He would want us to remember him like this, or on his motorcycle, or in his SCA garb, or in his RX-8. He would want us to remember his intelligence, his sense of humor, his love of speed and weaponry. He would want us to remember the good times. So, on this day, when he departed from us eleven years ago, I chose a photo of him with that rascally smile and a stein of celebratory beer, taken at a happy family gathering on July 29, 2004.

As I searched for a photo for this post, this one seemed to best represent the adult Leif, but it also struck me that this shirt is the same one he wore in death, when we found him April 10, 2008. From a happy occasion to the depths of despair.

Eleven years, one third of the years he lived. Yet he is a part of our lives every day. He always will be.

Today Would Have Been His 44th Birthday

Look at this beautiful child. Hopeful, innocent, happy, vulnerable. Today would have been his 44th birthday, if he were still with us, but his last birthday was 11 years ago. He was here, at our house, for a steak dinner. I see a photo of him taken that night every day in my office. I miss that man. I miss this little boy.

This photo was taken in Hawaii on his 9th birthday. We lived there then. He was in third grade. He loved video games and going to the arcade in Honolulu with us on a Friday or Saturday night after a dinner and a movie. It was always a family activity, in Japan, in Hawaii. We'd all play. He loved Pac Man. For this birthday, he wanted a Super Pac Man cake, so he and I made one. The photo makes me cry, though I have been crying on and off all day. But i also makes me smile at the utterly homemade look of this cake, but he loved it, and I loved making it with him, even the unorthodox positioning of the candles. His idea.

I don't know why this day is so hard, or why it is still so hard after he's been dead almost eleven years. I guess the only way to understand it is that the greater the love, the greater the grief. I guess I should be glad that not every day is like this. Most days I can live a pretty normal existence. We can talk about Leif and our memories of him, usually without crying or tearing up. But not today. Today has been rough. It IS rough.

What I really wanted to do today was light his candle and look at photos of him, just "be with him" even if only in my mind. But real life with responsibilities and appointments crowds that out, and all I have are the moments of tears, a few minutes to find a photo to post, and write a few words.

I miss the boy. I miss the man. I miss my son. If he were here, I could wish him a happy birthday. Now, I can say it, I can write it, but where is he? No longer with us.