Where's the Bravado?

I haven't posted anything here since August 23rd, two weeks ago, though I've thought about it every day. I think back to the first two years after Leif's death and how posting on his blog was one of the most important priorities of my day, how I thought I would end it on the second anniversary of his death, but couldn't, and how I've posted less frequently since then, how other crises and needs in my life have taken over the time I used to devote here. I know that's normal, but how I would want Leif to know that I think of him just as often. Peter W. and I talk about him every day. We still miss him terribly, so terribly.

When I'm looking through those old photo albums from the days before digital photos, I still see so many photos of Leif that haven't been scanned, haven't been shared, and each one has memories attached to it, some of them things we probably wouldn't think of without a photo to remind us.

This photo was taken in Kanchanaburi, Thailand, in a boat on the lake that was formed when a Thai family friend was head of a project to put a dam on the river. We were in Thailand in December 1981. Leif was one month shy of his seventh birthday. Ben took us to see several sights in that area, the dam, the lake, the Bridge on the River Kwai, and the Erawan Waterfall to name some of them. We stayed in a government resort on the lake shore which was guarded by officers with impressive-looking guns. The boys were interested in those, but didn't dare to approach the guards and ask about them.

The were also fascinated by the dam and how it worked, and loved the boat trip on the lake. You can see Leif's hair blowing in the wind. He was wearing a life jacket, of course. What surprises me about this particular photo is that he looks a little scared, a little dubious, and to use a term that Peter W. now often uses to describe some of Leif's childhood photos, vulnerable. Yes, he does look vulnerable. Peter W. said yesterday that he thinks because Leif was always so big and physically powerful for his age, and put on such a good front, that we didn't really see how sensitive and vulnerable he was. I agree. I knew that he felt things deeply, had strong emotions, and that he could get hurt feelings, but he concealed so much that I don't think we were really aware of the depth of his emotions except during the more extreme outbursts of frustration or anger. And, I think he, like many men, often burst out with those rather than show hurt or cry as a child.

When we see these photos, Peter W. says Leif looks so huggable. He was, a beautiful, beautiful, huggable child, though he wasn't a cuddly one with most people. He was too active and squirmy for that.

I thought that by the time we were nearly three-and-a-half years past his death, the hole in our lives might feel less deep, but it doesn't.

Leif and Peter A. at at Temple in Thailand - December 1981 - Age 6

I don't remember the name of the temple where these photos were taken, but it was on the trip to Chiang Mai that we took with Ben during our trip to Thailand in December 1981. We saw so many beautiful and fascinating things. The boys enjoyed the trip as much as we did. So much variety, from the beach at Pattaya to the elephants near Chiang Mai, from the lake and dam near the Burmese border to the bridge on the River Kwai, from staying with my Thai sister, Lek, and her family to the Ancient City, from Bangkok and riding in a tuk-tuk to seeing a beauty contest in Chiang Mai. It was a wonderful trip.

Our family was so fortunate to be able to live and travel in so many interesting places. I wonder how it felt to Leif as an adult to be so circumscribed in his ability to travel, due to his financial circumstances (largely of his own making), and in many years, the lack of someone to travel with. So many things are less attractive and interesting when you have no one to share them with. He traveled so much with us as a child and some as an adult. Some people have no real interest in travel but it's hard for me to believe that Leif wouldn't have wanted to do it after all he experienced as a child, despite the fact that he told me that he'd rather spend money on things that would last like computers, other tech gadgets, a car and motorcycle and guns.
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The photos: Leif and Peter A. in Thailand at a temple site, December 1981. Leif was a month shy of his seventh birthday.

Leif in a Life Jacket - Thailand - December 1981 - Age 6

When Leif was a month shy of his seventh birthday, we were in Thailand and traveling with our friend Ben, who took us to one of the lakes created by one of the dams he built as a hydroelectric engineer. The boys were fascinated with the dam and loved going for a ride on the lake. These photos are of Leif enjoying the ride. He always loved vehicles of all kinds and speed was what he craved. I love the photo of him with his hair flying in the wind. He looks so small and vulnerable, hard for me to realize it, since he always seems so big, strong and tough for his age. How different I see things now. This was in December 1981.
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I don't think the blog is going to make it to 10,000 visits by the second anniversary of Leif's death. There would have to be a little over 22 visits per day between now and April 10th for that to happen.

Small Accomplishments and Thinking of Leif 23 Months After His Death

I was watching Fabio Zini perform on the guitar, a song he composed for a trio of guitar, sax and piano called "Feel Good," and although the mood of it may have been intended to be happy, it made me sad. It seemed more melancholy than happy to me perhaps because of the soft, rather mournful sax and the gentleness of the guitar and piano.

I wondered why I would feel sad for a moment and then it came to me. I thought about Leif's belief that no one but his parents would care if he died (though there were so many more people who cared about him than he knew) and it made me sad that he felt his life was of so lttle value to the world. His life was of inestimable value to me.

I thought that there are not so many who would care about my death, either. So few people in the world really matter to many others; so few of us have any real impact upon the world. I never expected that I would. As I've written before, I never had big dreams, never wanted or expected fame, never sought popularity or felt I could have it, but I would like to feel that I succeeded in the small goals I had.

But what have I achieved that I did seek, those things that mattered to me? Have I even managed those dreams and goals I set for myself? The ones that ultimately mattered, at least to me?

When I was in high school, I wanted to earn a college scholarship so I could afford to go away to school and I did that. I wanted to graduate Phi Beta Kappa, and I did that. At that age, such things are important, but in the great scheme of things they don't matter much, especially since I never pursued a real carer with my education. And during that time my dreams changed.

I had wanted to be 28 and have a PhD before I got married, but life has a way of changing goals. I met Peter when I was only 17 and a freshman in college, fell in love and married when I was only 18. Although I finished college and went to graduate school, what became most important to me was my marriage and having a family. It came as a surprise to me how badly I wanted children, as I had been focused on education and career.

I did have interesting and rewarding jobs that also fulfilled modest goals, whether working as a librarian or writing books, and I am thankful for those opportunities and the memories I have of those times, but they are not the measure of a life, nor was I well known in either field.

I have been lucky to enjoy an interesting life, living and traveling around the world, certainly rewarding to our whole family and for that we have to thank Peter and his career for making it possible.

I have been blessed with my birth family and a close relationship with my mother, especially, and my sisters, brother, and their families. I treasure my friends, though they are not numerous.

But the greatest meaning and value of my life is my family. I was (and am) so fortunate to have Peter, to have found such a loving and devoted soulmate and friend. I loved being a mother, loved my two sons, and tried my best to raise them well.

That is the real test of my life. Did I succeed? What is the criteria? Their childhood lives? Their adulthood? (How much influence did I have over that?) Is it their material success, their happiness?

If the measure of my success is my family, and if one thinks that the adult lives of one's children are in some way influenced by their childhoods, then I have failed sadly in some ways. Although I think my sons childhoods were good, either I failed I'm some terrible way or I wasn't able to influence their adulthoods in the way I wish I had. What greater failure can mother have than to have her son find life so painful that he takes his own life? I could not keep Leif alive no matter how hard I tried. Was it that I didn't know what I needed to do, or that it couldn't be done? Was it that I didn't provide him with what would have armed him against detachment and depression when he was a child, or that there was nothing I could have done?

I know thar Leif's death is not my "fault," not something I caused, but even so, it will always feel like a great and terrible failure.

I know I cannot measure the value of my life by Leif's death, but what IS the real value? It is still my family, and perhaps my accomplishments, small though they are in the vastness of the world and it's history, are at least meaningful to them. I know Leif knew I loved him, even if my love could not keep him alive. I know Peter Anthony, whose academic and work life have encompassed many milestones, knows I love him and admire his accomplishments, and would and will love him always, no matter what.

I have three beautiful grandchildren I enjoy who like being with me. And most of all I have my soulmate of 45 years whose love makes every day worthwhile.

So, as I thought all this, during the song, "Feel Good," I came around to that feeling after all. My life is meaningless in the great scheme of life, but it is meaningful to me. Ever since Leif died I have been telling myself to keep perspective, not to lose track of all I have in my grief over Leif's loss. I knew I should focus on all the good in my life but I was unable to really do it. My grief was still too strong and fresh until now to feel the appreciation I should.

Maybe it takes two years. Is two years of mourning enough? On March 9th Leif has been dead for 23 months. Thinking of it still makes me inexpressably sad. I still miss him every day. We talk about him every day. I don't think that will ever end, just like the eternal questions about why his life ended so abruptly and violently.

But I think now, for the first time since his death I can truly and deeply feel the overwhelming sense of gratitude for my Peter and my son Peter Anthony, for all of my family, to be thankful that unlike Leif at the end of his life, I have people who need me and a sense of purpose.

And I will be thankful for Leif's life and the purpose it gave me, even though his loss brings so much sadness and sorrow.
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This photo of my two beautiful sons was taken in Thailand in December 1981. They were fascinated by the giant leaves and the cute little puppy they are petting. Leif was a month shy of his seventh birthday and Peter Anthony was just days away from his thirteenth birthday.

Leif at the "Ancient City" in Bangkok, Thailand - December 1981 - Age, almost 7 years old

In December 1981 we traveled from Japan to Thailand to visit my Thai sister, Lek, and her family, and see the country. One of the places we visited in the Bangkok area was "Ancient City," a historical park that recreated earlier ways of life and showed historical events in sculpture and much more. It was a beautiful and fascinating place we all enjoyed. Leif seemed to be especially interested in the sculpture. He was just a month shy of his seventh birthday.

Leif's Fifth Home - Sagamihara, Japan - Summer 1980 to Summer 1983

With all the photos I've posted of Leif in Japan and all I've written about life there with him, it's hard to believe that I can't find a single photo of the quarters we lived in there. There were so many fascinating things to photograph in Japan, and so many interesting people, but our quarters were pretty dull and apparently I didn't think they were worth a photo. This is the closest thing I've found and it only shows a little bit of the front of the building. I posted a cropped version of this photo when I was writing about Halloween, since this one was taken of the "ghost" that Peter A. and Leif were trying to scare people with on Halloween in 1982. Leif is on the roof over the front door area dangling the ghost over trick-or-treaters and he and Peter A. (wth their dad's help) were making plenty of scary noises. Of course, it was a lot darker than this photo shows.

The townhouse type quarters were in the Sagamihara Army Family Housing Area in Sagamihara, Japan. Our building was the last one, farthest away from the entry gate, all the way around by the back gate. There were three townhouse sets of quarters in a row and we were in the middle unit. The front door opened into the living room, with a stairway going up to the second floor right ahead of the doorway. We had a dining room and a kitchen also on the first floor, and four bedrooms on the second floor. One was very tiny, scarcely big enough for even a bed, and I had some things stored in there along with our digital keyboard that we would go in and play.

It was all very simply furnished with quartermaster furniture (belonged to the army, for you civilians) and we hadn't shipped much over to Japan as there is a weight limit that controls how much can be shipped. However, we had a great time acquiring things during our three years in Japan . . . all of us. The boys enjoyed the Japanese toys, our computer, which we got in 1982, and we got some lovely pieces of porcelain, prints, and rugs.

Our set of quarters faced a large grass area as we were set back off the street. There was another set of four quarters along on side, and the other side had a small wooded area, plenty of space for the neighborhood kids to play.

Behind our house was the fence dividing our American housing area from part of the Japanese residential area. We didn't have any way through the fence or know any of the Japanese on the other side, but there was one family named Tanaka who had two boys that were roughly the same ages as our sons. Once in awhile the Tanaka boys would climb over the fence and come to visit. It was always a challenge because they didn't speak English and our sons didn't speak Japanese, and my Japanese was extremely rudimentary, but they had fun. The older Tanaka boy could solve the Rubik's Cube amazingly fast, something we never learned.

The three years in Japan were a wonderful time for us, as a family, culturally, and in many other ways.

While we were there, Leif learned to ride a bike, played t-ball and soccer, completed kindergarten, first and second grade at the John O, Arnn Elementary School, was in his first stage production, went to Thailand and Hong Kong, did a lot of sightseeing and hiking, and was in his first earthquakes. His best friends were Anil and Atul Phull.

One thing that happened that showed me his truly amazing memory was then when he was in only first grade, his class took a field trip to a silk worm farm. It was a LONG trip with many, many turns on small Japanese roads. He memorized the entire route and was able to tell me exactly how to get there.

Life in Japan had a profound influence on both our sons which lasted all Leif's life.

Leif at Pattaya Beach in Thailand - December 1981 - Age nearly 7 years old

This photo of Leif on the beach was labeled December 1981. We were living in Japan at the time, but I can't imagine that it was warm enough to be at the beach in December so it has to be Thailand. We went to visit my Thai sister, Lek, and her family in Thailand that December. We got to see a lot of the country and really enjoyed it. She and her family took us to stay at the Royal Cliff Hotel in Pattaya, where Peter W. and Peter A. tried parasailing and Leif and I watched.

It was also on this beach that Leif noticed a woman from France sunning herself on a beach lounge without the benefit of a bathing suit top. He was quite surprised and made some comment to his dad asking where her top was.

We also saw a big black snake slither into the water.

Leif, along with the rest of us, enjoyed beaches in the USA (Hawaii, Virginia, South Carolina, Florida), Italy, Thailand, Japan, and Puerto Rico.

We all loved the relaxation, the waves, and the sun.

Leif in Thailand - December 1981 - Almost 7 years old

In December 1981, our family made a trip to Thailand. We were living in Japan, and this was a dream-come-true trip for me to see my Thai "sister," Lek, our family friend Ben, and their country. Leif was 6, nearly 7 years old, and Peter Anthony was just shy of his 13th birthday.

We stayed with Lek and her family in Bangkok, and went to see many wonderful sights. Ben took us to see one of the dams he built on the Mekong River system, the real Bridge on the River Kwai, and to Chiang Mai. We saw temples, countryside, people, flowers, waterfalls, elephants, interesting food, and culture.

Perhaps to our sons, who were growing up traveling all over the world (Leif had already lived in two states and two foreign countries by the time he was six years old, and had traveled in many more), a trip to Thailand did not seem so incredible, but for me, having grown up on the plains of Kansas and never having been to another country, other than just over the border into Canada, until I was 22 years old, it was magical.

Although we took many photos in Thailand, most are not of Leif, though I do have others, for instance one of him petting a kitten at a Buddhist monastery. These two will represent that long-ago trip.

The first photo is of Peter Anthony and Leif at the place we went to see the elephants working near Chiang Mai. This was fascinating, not only to see how the elephants could handle giant teak logs, but how they bathed in the river, and would come up and beg for and eat bananas out of our hands. There was a baby elephant that did this. It was a little shorter than Peter Anthony's height, and we were surprised to see that it had long hairs on its skin, not covered with "fur," but with scraggly long hairs.

The second photo is somewhere on the trip to the western part of Thailand where we saw poinsettias growing wild; huge, tall bushes of them. This was so different than the dense, small, potted plants we were used to seeing at Christmas time in the USA.

Leif enjoyed the trip. He was a good traveler, easygoing, uncomplaining, and finding things to interest him just about anywhere. He also had a good time playing with Lek's children.