Dear Leslie (10)

Dear Leslie, 

And so it happened. An entire decade has come and gone without you in it. Today, while we go about our daily activities and plans for a fun-filled Halloween night, your absence is still heavy. Last night, Vicki planned an evening to honor your memory after missing you for 10 years. You would have loved having everyone together - all laughing, chatting, playing. Sam and Vicki organized a memorial video that moved everyone, but what I loved about it was having Quinn and Knox see all these photos of you throughout your life. I knew everyone in the photos, but they have no idea who so many of the people are/were. I watched them watch it, and I watched them see their Daddy at their ages with his Mommy. I watched them see how much you look like their Aunt Gayle and their NaNa who both look so different yet both resemble you so much but in different ways. They hear about you all the time, and they have seen photos of you, but the seeing you with so many people who loved you, in my opinion, made them realize just how many people loved you and how much they miss out on not having you in their lives. Later in the evening, once we got home, Quinn came to me privately with tears in his eyes and said, "Mommy, I am sad for two reasons: one, because Bubbie died, and two, because I never got to meet her." He sobbed into my shoulder for a bit, and I held him. I reminded him that he is named after you, that his Hebrew name, Matan Lev, honors the memory of my grandfather (Manny) and you, Leslie. It means "giving," and "heart." 

Later, Banner who had been crying also, said he was sad that so many people were sad. He cried (on that same - now very wet - shoulder) telling me he's sad that Miles misses you so much and that he himself didn't get to know you. Again, I rocked my boy, the only one of my babies you got to meet. It was just over 10 years and 3 months ago when he wailed as we tried to figure out what was wrong. You were all smiles and laughter watching your son be a dad and have no idea what the hell he was doing. His frustration (and mine) were not what you saw. I can still see you in our old living room giddy and full of glee. You saw your baby with your new grandbaby. You saw payback. You saw that the wailing was no big deal in the big scheme of things. You saw something you didn't know you'd hardly ever see again. While I believe I would have acted differently if I were you, I have come to see that memory differently now. I only remember you being joyful with Banner. And that's what I can share with him. 

I don't have much to share with you that I haven't already told you in previous letters, except I caved and let your son get a dog! We are dog owners... I know you never would have believed that would happen! Tova is precious, and you would adore her. She's 12 weeks old, and she is so loving and sweet, but she also keeps us very much on our toes and forever busy! 

Speaking of busy, that is exactly how I'd describe life right now. Between Sam, the boys, Tova, our jobs, our house, and all the extracurriculars that come along with raising kids, I feel like we are always on the go. Life is full, and I wouldn't have it any other way. We count our blessings and know how lucky we are. But, we still miss you, and we wish you were here. We bring you along in ways we can, and there are (weirdly) ample opportunities for Sam to tell awkward "dead mom jokes" as he calls them. If you heard them, I'm sure you'd laugh them off and then tell him, "You're grounded."

I'll leave you with some photos of our night last night, remembering and honoring you. As always, I want to thank you for your son, for the gift he is to me and our boys. I promise to do my best, as I've told you before, to make every day a beautiful day. 

Loving you always,

Amber