This morning, I logged in to Facebook (yes, that's still very much a thing), and this photo popped up immediately. It was Banner's first Halloween. It was an infant play date we hosted at our house - only blocks from yours. It was a fun, silly time for these sweet babies, and it was filled with lots of picture taking and babies exploring each other and being overwhelmed with their ridiculous costumes. Banner was Swee'Pea that year. It was going to be our first-ever family Halloween costume ... with Sam as Popeye and me as Olive Oyl. Without our full ensemble, though, Banner looked absolutely ridiculous, and no one had any idea who he was supposed to be. Now I can laugh at that - but at the time, I was annoyed because it was such a cute idea gone terribly wrong. Soon, my frustration at his awful costume would be completely forgotten, as the news of the day would just shatter our evening plans and our hearts into a million pieces.
Every time I see this photo, those are the memories that I think about. The laughs, the cute-gone-wrong costume, the friends we had over, the excitement of babies' first Halloween and their adoring young mommies, and then, the inevitable call that would turn the day dark fast. Gayle screaming in the phone that her mom was dead, trying to get in touch with Sam, thinking this was a horrible prank on Halloween and wondering why you couldn't just treat us instead of trick us, and not knowing what the hell was really going on. It's clear as day in my mind. Thinking about it now, I'm immediately in my den at Darion. I'm holding the black wireless landline phone. My mind is numb to the news I'm completely in denial about. This is what this photo brings to mind now.
And then it flashes forward to tonight with these little boogers you'd completely adore.
They are hilarious, silly, loud, affectionate, and insanely brilliant. And I'm not just saying those things as their mom... they really are all of those things. Each one of them in his own unique way. How I would LOVE to see how you would love them each!
Now, to be fair, I want to tell you something I've never told you before. On that fateful Halloween 2011, I had enjoyed my time with my girlfriends who were my mom tribe that first year of motherhood. I complained about you. We were all bitching about our mothers-in-law, and you were no exception. I don't recall the exact details of what I said, but it wasn't exactly something I'd want you to hear me saying; and later that night I cried to those same girls, telling them how sorry I was for having spoken ill of you and how horrible I was feeling for voicing my frustrations and annoyance with the little things that I struggled with. Your quirks and weirdness just annoyed me from time to time, and to be honest, I've come to know that I wasn't alone in my feelings. However, I've also come to know that your idiosyncrasies are the same things that made you lovable and memorable. It is those things that make others you left behind feel so connected to you. We know what you would say or what you would do or how you would react because you were so perfectly YOU and didn't give a crap what anyone thought. You were loud, silly, opinionated, talkative, and loving, and many times all at once.
But, 8 years later, time continues to march on without you. Your influence continues, though, as I've told you in letters past. No one shies away from using your name in our house, and the boys are very aware of you. We even make what Sam refers to as "dead-Mom jokes" that often leave others uncomfortable and awkward. You know, talking about how much my mom helps with the kids, and "why can't your mom lift a finger to help!?" See? Awkward and weird, but it makes us laugh and helps make you part of the everyday conversation still. We joke and we include you in our own way. Yet, there are times when I wish I could ask you about Sam as a young boy, or how you would have handled some of his behaviors -- because Lord knows these boys did not get their devious ways from ME! :) I wish Sam's memory of his youth were better; I wish I could pick your brain. But, I can't, and these are the times that make me even sadder that you're not around.
So, Halloween has come and gone yet again, and that means another year without you has passed. Sam asked me this evening if the boys even know that you died on Halloween. I don't think they do. How would they? It's not the first thing I think about anymore on this day. My thoughts are about how to make this day great for them. The breakfasts with toast or pancakes shaped like ghosts, bats, or black cats, the costumes ready to go for the post-dinner meet-up with friends, and the candy baskets ready to be filled to the brim with sugar and chocolate. You are now an after-thought, and I don't mean that in a negative way. I mean that we have moved on to a happier place. Time and space have helped us. We don't focus on your death. We focus on your life, we focus on our memories, our stories. I have a feeling that's exactly what you would want. So, even though I look at that photo of Banner's first Halloween and have bittersweet feelings, I am grateful for all the Halloweens that have come since then, the memories that we continue to make and the days that followed that we take you along with us for the ride, even if we wish it could be more.
Missing you always and keeping my promise to try to make every day a beautiful day,
Amber
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