Dear Leslie

Dear Leslie,

It's been a full year without you now, and I still have a hard time believing that you are gone. So often Sam and I think about you as if you are still here; we have to remind ourselves that you aren't. It's so surreal that you're not a call or a one-minute drive away anymore. When we see a message on the answering machine, we still expect to hear your voice. When we need a babysitter, we still have you at the top of our list. When Banner meets a milestone, we want to share the news with you. When holidays approach, we expect to spend them with you.

While you are still with us very much - in our hearts and our minds - we miss you. I wish I could share with you the many times Sam and I have looked at Banner and seen you. There have actually been times when he makes a certain face, and I will respond with, "Hi, Leslie." I wish you could play with Banner, hear his belly laughs, watch his eyes light up when he learns something new, or console him when he's sick or hurt. I wish you could make Cream of Wheat for Sam when he's feeling sick, give him head massages when he's stressed out, or annoy him when he's annoying ME! I wish you had been able to hold Shelby's hand at her wedding. I wish you could have screamed with us that day on the lake that the choppy waters shook us up. . . I can totally see you freaking out! I wish you could laugh with us when Banner points at a pick-up truck and says, "Zaide!" I wish you could cheer for Miles at his football games and laugh at the way Colby calls his mother "Gayle."

I hate that you are missing such amazing time with us. This is such a special time, and I never, ever could have imagined that you wouldn't be here during these years. I hate that you only got to spend 4 months with Banner. I hate that you won't get to hear him actually call YOU "Bubbie" and not just your picture. He points to the bookshelf you made him before he was born. The first time he ever really noticed it, he pointed and said, "Bubbie." Now, he mostly says "Quack, Quack" at the duck on the side, but I'm just glad he notices it and likes it. Honestly, there was a time I didn't want to put that bookshelf up. If I'm being entirely honest, I didn't like it; I thought it was kind of ugly. (You were well aware that you and I had very different tastes. You once called Sam and I "minimalists" - and I agree, so the many stickers you placed on the bookshelf annoyed me.)  Crazy how things change, though, right? Now, I really like it because it's a piece of you. We hang his little hats on the hooks, his Longhorn piggy bank you gave him rests on top, a sand dollar Sam brought back from California is gently propped up on it, and a few other odds and ends have been placed there as well. And, every time we look at the shelf, we're reminded of you and how much you already loved your grandson before you even met him.

Like I said before, you are still very much with us. There's not one occasion this year that has passed by without us thinking of you and missing you. Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's Day, Fourth of July... obviously, Mother's Day, your birthday, and now Halloween. You name it - and you were there with us in spirit. We just wish you could be there physically. I can still vividly hear your laugh, your voice, your expression. I can see your face, your reactions, your smile. It's like I just saw you yesterday. I had you memorized, Leslie, which is a good thing now because I can share so much of you with Banner. I often bring you up in conversation with Sam, letting him know how much I think of you. He misses you very much. He may not talk about it with other people often, but he most definitely misses you. I miss you FOR him. I wish I could take that pain away from him. It hurts to know how much he hurts, to know how much he longs for your hug, the squeeze of your hand, your "I love you."

Banner pulled a small jewelry box out of Sam's bathroom drawer the other day. He opened the box, and out came two cufflinks. I quickly took them away from Banner before he could put them in his mouth, and when I looked at the inside of the box's lid, I noticed a large lipstick kiss on it. I showed it to Sam. He told me the cufflinks were from you, and that kiss was yours. He got kind of giddy for a minute, so smiley and excited to have that. He took a picture of it on his phone, and he sent it to Gayle & Shelby. He said he never knew that was there. In some weird way, I felt like Banner, you, and I had given him a gift all together that day. A little piece of you. I know it made him happy to see that, but it also probably made him miss you even more, as he talked about how you used to leave lipstick blots like that all over the house before you would leave. He may be a my little boy's father - all grown up and sophisticated, but he'll always be your little boy who wants his mommy.

I think of that often when I'm snuggling with Banner. I can't imagine not being here for him. I hate even thinking that, and I hate it FOR YOU that you're not here for your kids and grandchildren. I feel like you were robbed of so much time, so much joy. But I promise you this: You are very much still here, very present, and very loved. Each month that Banner gets his PJ Library book, we tell him it's a gift from Bubbie. Each time we look at photos, we point to you and await his "Bubbie" response. Each time we are together at a family event, we talk about you and remember. Each time Sam or I have a big decision to make, we reflect on what your input would be. I hope wherever you are right now that you know how loved and missed you are. I hope you are at peace, that you are smiling down on us, that you can hear us think of you, and that you know you are still very much alive in us.

Love,
Amber