Dear Leslie (2)

Dear Leslie,
It's been two years now since that phone call from Gayle. I can still hear her screaming in my ear on the other end of the call in complete shambles. I remember telling her to calm down, to pull over as she drove, as I tried my best to take in the news she was telling me, my heart twisting painfully, my stomach dropping, my head in mass chaos of disbelief and skepticism. I remember talking to Sam as he drove home from work, both of us still wondering what the hell was happening. It's still a fresh shock. I no longer feel the floor being pulled out from under me, but I still can't believe you are gone.

What a year this has been. And, you're still missing it all. It's never going to be any easier to know you will never attend birthday parties, holiday celebrations, graduations, special performances by and sporting events of my children, their big events like Bar Mitzvahs and weddings, or just the casual family dinners. I feel your presence at these events, but I'm constantly reminding myself that you aren't going to actually walk through the door at any moment.

You've missed a lot this year, Leslie. You've missed the delight and joy on Banner's face as he blew out the candles at his second birthday party. Can you believe it? He's TWO! You last saw him at four-months-old, and your sweet grandson is two now. He's a trip, Bubbie! I tell you what - that boy would have you rolling. In fact, I can hear your laugh in my head as I imagine you seeing his funny faces, hearing his incredible connections he makes in that so-smart head of his, watching him play with his trucks and cars or digging in the dirt, or enjoying how much trouble he gives Sam and me when he doesn't listen. You'd probably be annoying me to pieces as you told us that Sam was the same way and that you are so glad he's getting a taste of his own medicine. (Mostly because I was not like this child who constantly wants an audience!!) I just KNOW you'd be saying these things.

You've missed cheering Miles on at his football games. You've missed hearing the wonderful news that he's making such great strides at school. You've missed meeting his friends and watching him get so tall and mature! You've missed hearing Colby string together word after word and celebrating his potty training success! You've missed watching him settle down into a kind, helpful boy - who can still piss off his mom when he draws all over himself. You've missed watching Sam's firm develop into a successful practice. You'd be so proud of all his hard work and his dedication and how he keeps a balance between work life and family life. You've missed all the fun on the boat and the fish fry dinners. You've missed hearing about Shelby's first anniversary and Gayle's new job. You've even missed your brother and sister-in-law finally moving back home!

But, by far the hardest for all of us, you missed Quinn's birth. You missed getting to meet your newest grandson. You're missing watching him interact with his big brother and witnessing his first smiles. He's cooing so sweetly, and you'd be delighted to hear his little voice. This delicious boy would melt your heart with how he cuddles and nuzzles and wants to be held. And, you'd love to see how much he looks like you. Especially when he wakes up from a nap, I see you. I've even said, "Hello, Leslie!" as he stretches and widens his eyes to greet the world after a snooze. It breaks my heart to know I'll never have a photo - not even one - of you and Quinn together.

You missed Quinn's bris, and you'll miss his naming next week. Yes, you will miss a lot. But, we miss you a lot. Just like last year when I told you how much we think of you, you are still etched in our memory as if we just saw you yesterday. I often wonder what life would be like with you still here, but then I realize I already know. You'd be begging me to let you babysit; you'd be very entertaining when my boys were at your house; you'd be cracking up at them and have them cracking up at you. You'd be laughing at how stressed out Sam and I get with the chaos of parenting, but you'd be telling us what a great job we're doing. You'd probably keep talking about how you can't believe your baby has two babies. You'd want to drop by as we were putting the boys to sleep to give them goodnight kisses and riling them up at the wrong time, which would inevitably piss me off - but it would please my kids and be so special to them. You'd speak "sweet nothings" to Quinn and await a smile the way all grandparents do. You'd tell Banner he was your best friend, the same way you used to tell Miles - and you'd tell him not to tell his cousins or brother that you said that - because you'd secretly be telling each of them the same thing.

So, yes, you are still very much here with us. I'm sure Sam wishes I didn't have such a great memory when I often remind him of things you told me or things you said -  like reminders to go to the doctor for screenings when he hit a certain age. I remember stories you told me - again and again! I remember so many of our talks. I remember your laugh and your smile. But, most importantly, I remember how much you love(d) your family. We are making you proud down here, Leslie, I promise you that. Your kids and grandkids would have you beaming, and oh how I hate that you don't get to participate. So unfair.

I'd like to make a promise to you that I'm doing my best to raise your grandsons right. I promise I'm doing my best to take perfect care of Sam. I promise to keep talking about you and remembering it all. I promise you will not be forgotten or ignored. I promise to be grateful for every day I have with your amazing son and our babies. I promise to not take this life for granted. I promise that, even when it's tough - and man, I know you know how tough it is - I will remember how fleeting these days are and how I have a choice to make every day a beautiful day.

Missing you always,
Amber