Eighteen Years Ago - Missing Him Still

On April 10, 2008, we found Leif's lifeless body in his apartment. He died by his own hand on April 9, with a new gun he had purchased April 8th. His adult life was a rollercoaster full of, as he put it, more pain than pleasure, more heartache than joy. Yet, this was a boy who knew joy, and he was a man who thought deeply, cared about others, needed love, wanted to serve his country, and did, until he was medically retired due to severe asthma he contracted while serving. 

I still look at those photos of him laughing and happy, or contemplative and philosophical, and wonder how it could all have gone so wrong.

I not only think about him this week, this day, particularly because it is the unhappy anniversary of his death, but because I wish I could talk with him about the world today. I know he would be horrified at our political situation, at the attack on Iran, and the needless death on all sides. Leif was passionate about his oath to defend the Constitution of the United States, and I well remember his anger over the second Gulf War and the war in Afghanistan, He served with the UN peacekeeping mission in Bosnia in 1999 and saw all the destruction that war had caused. I am glad he is not in the army now, when I know his convictions would make it impossible for him to stay and carry out orders and missions he would have believed were both unconstitutional and wrong. 

There are so many things I miss about Leif, still, after 18 years. His laugh, his bear hugs, his incisive mind, his sense of humor. I miss the sheer size of him, the way his presence filled a room. I am thankful for all the photos and memories. Even after those 18 years, it is still hard to believe he is never going to drive up our driveway, stereo booming. 

When I started this blog, exactly 18 years ago, I had no idea I would still write a post occasionally, but now I think, despite the fact that I've already posted so many of the photos and memories, I can't imagine not posting something on anniversary days like his birthday and day of death. I still tell him I want him to come back. I know he can't, but I will always wish it.

For Twenty-three Years We Enjoyed the Car Leif Chose for Us

 

Twenty-three years ago, Leif showed up at our house and told me he had found THE car for me, that it "even has a place for your laptop." He loved car shopping, even when he wasn't in the market to buy. He just loved cars. He wanted to take me to see this one, as a replacement for our aging Maxima. 

When I first got into it, I'd never been in a car that big. I said I'd never be able to drive it, that it was like driving a bus! So, he good-naturedly took me to every car dealership in town to look at cars. We took several test drives, including one in a Mustang, which he decided we should try (even though it wasn't a realistic choice) because it was fun and he knew his dad and I had a Mustang for several years early in our marriage. 

Well, after all that, I had to admit he was right! He HAD found the car for me, so we went back to the Buick dealer and test drove the car. It took a few days but we did purchase it and it served us well for 23 years, almost to the day. Since it could manage 7 passengers, we had many wonderful times in it with Leif's brother and his family, the grandkids, and many others. We went on trips. We hauled things. We moved a carload of stuff to Florida in it. We moved my mother from her condo to a different apartment and then to assisted living. One grandchild even drove it to work for an internship. 

So, today, when we said goodbye to it, we were both very emotional, not only because of all the memories, but more importantly, because it was a connection to Leif. Although it's "just a car," an object, there is so much emotion connected with it, and seeing it drive away was also most having a piece of him taken from us. We have so little left from him, many photos, of course, and memories, but fewer and fewer things that are connected to him, as time goes on. 

I know Leif would find this attachment kind of silly. He was always looking for the next new thing, the next new car, motorcycle, computer, phone, and more. He would said, "Get a new car, Mom!" But we still feel the attachment, and now all I have are photos of what he chose for us. I hope he would like the replacement. We compared the cars we looked at to what we loved about the Rendezvous, including comfort, visibility, size, and chose something we think we will like very much and that he would approve of. I wish he had been here to help us choose it. His brother was, and did, and we are grateful for that. 

Today would have been his 51st birthday.

We miss Leif every day, and at any unexpected time, something can open the door to feeling his loss and the grief of knowing he's never coming back. and that he suffered. But human beings mark time with dates; birthdays, anniversaries of significant events, holidays, and those are particularly hard. Why should one day be any different from another? Should or not, they are. Remembering Leif's birthday not only brings thoughts of his birth and babyhood, but all the years he lived, marked with birthdays and celebrations. Birthdays mark the years completed in our lives, a measure of our age and the length of our time upon the earth. 

Leif's birthday will always be special to us, for the gift of his life, and for the memories of the birthday parties and milestones he passed. Some years seem to be more poignant and sad than others. Today seems to have hit us hard. Our family, and our hearts, will forever have a huge hole in them. 

This photo was taken when Leif was a high school senior, fall 1992, and was one of his senior portraits, taken by Blaker Studio Royal in Manhattan, Kansas. They liked it so much they make a huge enlargement of it to display. I wish we had it. The other pose they took is beautiful, too. He was such an unusual young man. At that time, luxurious long hair was not common on men, yet he chose to embrace it. He also had his own taste in clothing, which was (except for the ubiquitous jeans) different from his fellow high school students. Here, he's wearing a green silk shirt. He wore chain link jewelry (like chain mail) he made himself. He wore unusual colors, and a long, black leather coat. As a high school senior, he was working and also taking classes at Kansas State University at the same time. He was one of the first to have a cell phone, a little Motorola flip phone. Like one of his friends later said, he was always at the forefront. 

Later, male pattern baldness started to remove that glorious hair, so he shaved his head and grew a beard. He was still handsome, and still the individualist. 

He had dreams he never realized. He had loves that left him bereft. He had ambitions that didn't come to fruition, and health challenges that limited him. Yet, he served his country in the US Army, graduated from college, and saw more of the world than most people ever will. 

We are thankful he was part of our lives.