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.