Dear Leslie (5)

Dear Leslie,
5 years. Feels like we could have just spoken yesterday, but it's been 5 whole years. Five whole years of you missing birthday parties, holidays, dinners, pictures, phone calls, movies, and now TWO grandsons you never got to meet. We welcomed Knox Morgan this year, and you missed it. You missed football games and soccer games. You missed helping us move into our new home. You missed entertaining the kids and sleepless nights, helping cook dinner, and watching the kids while Sam and I work. There are times I am so angry about all that, and there are times my heart breaks for you. But, mostly, it breaks for Sam and my boys who wonder what life would be like if you were still around.

The questions and curiosity that come from Banner are increasing. The other night, I overheard Banner asking Sam all about you - how he found out about your death, the last night you two had been together - and all about West Side Story :). I absolutely love when you come up in conversation. You aren't far from our minds, but when your name is mentioned and we talk about you, I feel like you aren't far from our lives. I love that Banner wants to know about you and bring you along with him through life. And, I know Sam loves it, too.

When we were leaving our house on Darion, you were very much on our minds. First of all, as we took down little "chotchkies" around the house, we thought of you: the little figurines, the pictures you are in, the dishes, the gifts... and then the little shelf you made for Banner before he was born. Sam took that off the wall and found a note you had written on the back of it - to your then-unborn grandson. It was like you were speaking to him again. And later, as Sam and I stood in the doorway of the entryway, we hugged our last hug in that house. I could tell he was emotional, and we both just teared up. He let go a little, and I knew exactly what was on his mind. It was powerful, as if you really were with us in that moment, and we realized we would lose a piece of you all over again by not living in the house where your memory is so very alive: the night you came speeding to the house to help me when Sam fainted after wisdom teeth surgery, the way you laughed (and it pissed us off!) when Banner wouldn't stop crying as we changed his first diaper after his circumcision, the time you brought Miles over to visit Banner and showed up with various trinkets and a poster Miles made, the night you stayed awake all night long making sure Sam was okay after his accident, helping me bake challah on the icy day your heat went out, answering Caden's questions about smoking while standing in the backyard during Sam's party after he passed the bar exam, watching you walk in to the surprise party we hosted for your 30th anniversary celebration..."Your mom?" I knowingly asked. And he nodded. "She's with us. She knows where we're going," I told him. And whether you are here in spirit at our new home or not, you are definitely a part of it. You'd love our sukkah we built. You'd love the boys' rooms. You'd love watching Banner play on the playground during recess from our backyard. (In fact, I'm pretty sure you'd be annoyingly interested in watching him play!) You'd probably be bringing over wall hangings or small pieces of furniture to put around our house, saying we needed this or that and to stop being such "minimalists," and I'd get frustrated because our tastes are so different.

5 years later, I'm still so sure of how things would be with you around. And, we still wish we could talk to you about our crazy, busy lives. There are still so many times we want to share something with you but can't. And, you'd still be so proud of your boy. Sam is the best husband to me. He is the best father to our sons. He has a temper I know you helped contribute to, but he's learning to be more patient. He's a hard worker and so good to his clients. He treats everyone he meets with the utmost respect, and he is a man of his word. He's fun and affectionate and interested and devoted... I could go on and on. You know these things, I know. But, I don't get to tell you or show you how great he is, so I feel like saying it. If a wife could give her husband a report card that he could run and show his Mommy, his would have A's all over it! You really would be so very impressed with him. Your little guy grew up, and he's one hell of a grown up!

And his children adore him. They light up when he walks in from work. Knox can't even finish eating without needing Daddy to pick him up. He at least needs to see him the minute he hears his voice come in the door. Quinn wants to dress just like him, and Banner wants to show off anything he learned to Daddy. And, you would just EAT UP how much everyone says Quinn looks like Sam. To be honest, though, I don't see Sam. I see you. I always have. Bits of you shine through those eyes, even though they are bluer than blue. The expressions he makes, he is so your little grandson. And you would have ADORED this. I have a feeling he might have been your favorite because of that. But, you'd tell each of them that they are your best friend, and you'd whisper it so no one hears your dirty little secret that you say this to all 5 of your grandsons.

I know you, Leslie. A gazillion hours on the phone with you throughout college and on helped with that. The 15 years that I knew you and shared in your family helped with that. You were a talker, and I am a listener, and I have no doubt I'm right about how things would be if you were still alive. You should know you are a huge contributing factor to why I write every little thing. I want my kids to know me, know my memories of them, and have as much of me as I can give to them after I am gone. You taught me how short life can be and how unexpectedly life can change. I often look at your death through Sam's eyes and never want my children to have to lose me - at all, really - but definitely not as suddenly as we all lost you. And, I'd love for them to know me as well as I know you, so they will never question what I would have told them or how I would respond to something. Rest assured, we got you - and you are still so very much with us.

Missing you today and always,
Amber