This Corona's for You

It's hard to believe it has been so long since I've posted on this blog. Life has overtaken me. We were gone on a 17 day cruise, during which I had little internet access. Never-the-less, I did write a blog post and said to publish it . . . and somehow, it just disappeared into the ether and was gone. I doubt that I can ever reconstruct it.

We thought about Leif a lot on the cruise, knowing how much he had enjoyed the two Caribbean cruises with us. There were so many things we remarked on that we know he would have enjoyed.

He would have loved Cabo San Lucas, "party town," probably would have liked to have taken a long vacation there. In honor of him, and of his love for beer, we had ice cold Coronas at Tequila Shark overlooking the harbor. There I am, red-faced and sweaty from a long, hot walk, enjoying that beer and wishing I was buying one for him, too.

Since we've been back, I've celebrated my fifth Mother's Day and birthday without him, and yes, I still miss him, still wish he were driving up the driveway with the bass thumping, coming in to give me a bear hug.

Life should not be so busy that there is no time to reminisce here, no time to write a post of memories that come to me or thoughts I want to record. I still want to write about destiny, about honor and suicide, about little things that come to mind as well.

But for now, here's to YOU, Leif. That Corona's for you.

Time to Stay Very Busy as Leif's 36th Birthday Approaches

Anyone who has lost someone they deeply love can tell you that certain days are harder than others. Sometimes it's a day with a special significance due to a personal event, but it's always holidays like Christmas, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Thanksgiving and the loved one's birthday and death day that bring an especially poignant and painful sense of loss.

If find that the days leading up to those days are often harder for me than the actual day itself. I suppose it has to do with anticipating the day and how much I'll miss him. Christmas and Thanksgiving can be made better by time with family, busy time full of the things we do on holidays to keep my from thinking as much about Leif and missing him. Of course, he isn't gone from my mind, but the less time there is to be sad and reminisce, the better, at least for the celebrations.

It's much harder on Mother's Day or Father's Day, dates when we focus on parenthood and our children, and it's acutely clear that Leif isn't there, especially since he WAS with us from every one of them except while he was in the army for three years, plus there aren't any busy celebrations to be a distraction. We can, however, try to focus on Peter Anthony and be grateful for him and our continuing relationship with him, and all the years we have shared.

But Leif's birthday and death day have no other celebration, no other focus, and are impossible to ignore or forget, and I am finding it hard to anticipate his birthday on January 28th, wondering what I will say, what I will do, what he would have been like at thirty-six. I'm sure it will be so every year I live.

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This photo of Leif was taken in Charlottesville, Virginia in the spring of 1977 when he was two years old.

Leif and His Mother on May 13, 2007, Mother's Day - Sun City Center, Florida - Age 32

On Mother's Day I am thankful for my two sons and my husband, without whom I wouldn't be a mother. I am thankful for forty years of rewarding and enchanting motherhood. I will always be glad for those relationships, those experiences, and I embrace the totality of them. The problems we had when they were young seem to small now, so relatively easy to endure and improve.

I'm grateful for the relationships we have had with our adult sons, for the opportunity to see them grow and become men, for all the things they have brought into our lives.

Many mothers of grown children are far from their children on Mother's Day but can look forward to a call, a card, perhaps a gift. I was fortunate for so many years of Leif's life that he was with us on Mother's Day. Of his 33 years, he was with me on Mother's Day for 30 of them. How fortunate I was!

The last Mother's Day when I saw Leif, the last one he was alive, was 2007. As he was leaving that evening after dinner (a delicious one made by Peter W., his dad) and visiting, I asked Peter to take a picture of us together. I never dreamed it would be the last time I saw him on Mother's Day. How glad I am to have this photo.

Even so, I look at this photo and I can see that Leif was not well. I don't know what physical problems he may have had other than the asthma, but he had gained a lot of weight, which worried me, and he was not happy. Eleven months later, after a long series of problems and misery, he was dead. I will miss his smile, hugs and lively conversation, but I will remain grateful for those 30 Mother's Days we spent together.

And I am so thankful for my family, and that I can spend this Mother's Day with my own wonderful mother, still with me at 90.

My First Mother's Day with Leif

Thirty-three years ago I first celebrated Mother's Day with Leif in my arms. Today is the first Mother's Day since then he will not be alive in my life. There is a hole in my heart, but I am grateful for those 33 years. I only wish his adult life had been a happy one, that he were still here.

Today I will remember the happy times.

And today I will remember that I have another wonderful son, Leif's brother Peter Anthony, who is six years older than Leif, and who has been the light of my life for 39 years. I have been blessed.