The Sense of Place in Memories, and Seeing the World Through New Eyes

Everything happens in a place, and location, place, is such an important part of memories. One's home, the place one lives, is a key to so many memories. That's why I spent so much blog time on the old stone house. It was such a large part of our lives for so long.

But every place one lives has significance and memories attached to it, and as a child in a military family, and then as an infantry soldier, Leif lived in so many places. For those of us who have that peripatetic lifestyle, we keep track of where and when things happened in our lives by attaching the memories to where we lived at the time.

I find myself often thinking that Leif lived here, in this house, where I now live. He slept in this room, ate at this table, washed his clothes in this washing machine, showered and got ready for work in this bathroom, parked his car in this garage, watched movies with us in this living room. It's so hard to come to grips with the fact that he will never do those things again, though the memories live on without him.

Today the sun was streaming in behind a curtain and then a cloud passed over the sun, the room suddenly darkened, and I thought that is how long term grief feels. You go about life, finding a sense of normalcy, even, at times, a bit of the old joy you once felt, and then a shadow passes over you and blocks out the light, blocks out the happiness, even if only briefly, though it isn't always fleeting. Sometimes is lasts and lasts, like the clouds that come to stay on a dark dreary day.

Tonight Peter Anthony's friend Dave was here for dinner with his family. We had a great visit, lively conversation. I thoroughly enjoyed it, even remarking how Leif would have felt about some of the things we discussed, remembering how much he would have loved participating in that discussion. Then, because Madeleine and Dave's son Andrew came in with a butterfly she caught and put into her bug cage, and Andrew's interest in it, I recalled a time in Japan before Peter Anthony had children when he asked me why someone would want to have them. I had begun to answer him that one of the greatest joys of having children is the opportunity to see the world through new eyes, to relearn the marvels of the world that have become commonplace to us as adults.

Just telling that got me choked up and misty-eyed, Peter W. told me not to cry, and I didn't. I managed to keep it under control, but I couldn't help but remember how much that meant to me, seeing the worldl through the new eyes of my sons . . . and how I continued to do that all their lives, as they grew into men and kept showing and teaching me new things. Peter Anthony still does. I miss it so that Leif never will do that again.
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The photo of Leif above was taken on New Years Day 2007 when he was visiting here and playing with Madeleine and Aly with the video camera of his cell phone. They had such fun.

A Year Has Passed Since Leif's Memorial Services on April 29, 2009

It's so hard to believe that a year ago today we gathered at Bay Pines National Cemetery for Leif's military honors ceremony and inurnment. It was a beautiful spring day, just like today, the kind of day he would have been out riding his cycle if he were alive and free.

We were a small gathering of family and friends, just 29 of us, a fraction of those who were with us in spirit that day, whether on the vigil of the ZAON forums or around the country and the world, who could not join us. We were immensely grateful for those who were with us on that sad, hard day.

Leif identified himself as a warrior. Being a soldier was a major part of his identity, and it was fitting and right that he was honored as a veteran and inurned with his brothers in arms. Bay Pines is a beautiful place, but it is also an infinitely sad place for me.

In the coming days I will post more about this ceremony and the church ceremony that followed it. These photos were taken before ceremony started. The first one shows Leif's father, Peter W., carrying the "urn," the wooden box that he decorated with Leif's military insignia. It holds all the earthly remains of our son, a box that wouldn't have begun to contain him even as a newborn baby.

We had to deliver the urn to the cemetery office so that the honor guard could take it and have it in place at the place of remembrance before we all gathered there.

The second photo is of us, Leif's parents, walking from the cemetery office to greet those who had come for the ceremony.

The third photo is one of the entire group of us, except for Dave Keesey, who took the group photo for us.

The fourth photo is Leif's three best friends from the early 1990s, Michael, Nikko (who was also the only wife Leif had), and Jason. Leif met Jason his senior year in high school, 1992-1993. Jason came from Manhattan, Kansas to be with us for the services. Nikko came all the way from Germany where she was serving in the U.S. Army. She and Leif met the summer of 1994 (I think it was 1994 and not 1993). MIchael met Leif in 1993 at Kansas State University. Michael came from central Florida to be with us. He had helped us to clear out Leif's apartment and much more. Leif would have been very touched to know they cared enough to be there.

From our gathering outside the cemetery office, we went to the small place of remembrance where there were benches under a covered area open on the sides to begin the ceremony.