Dear Leslie,
There are two events in my adult life that, without a doubt, should not have happened. It was not in the plan. It was not supposed to be this way or happen the way it did. I won't go into one of those here, but your death is definitely the other event. That was NOT supposed to happen. You were supposed to meet your grandkids. You were supposed to have holidays and birthdays with them. You were supposed to annoy me wanting to see them all the time or wanting to babysit when I thought you were too loopy to do such a thing. THAT was the plan. You were supposed to call late at night to talk Sam's ear off - or mine - saying all kinds of things that we'd roll our eyes at. You were supposed to beg the kids to come over or show them off to all your friends. You were supposed to drop by unexpectedly even when I was in the midst of putting the kids to bed only to rile them up and prolong the experience. You were supposed to stand on the bimah with us at the bar mitzvahs and cry happy tears of remembering when your little boy was going through his bar mitzvah. THAT was the plan. You were supposed to watch Sam's success and kvell at the growth of his law firm. You were supposed to tell us about the latest movies you've seen and which ones we just have to see. You were supposed to stand with us at Miles' graduation and light up from ear to ear with pride and joy.
All of these things happen in my mind, because that's what was supposed to happen. You aren't supposed to be gone, and it was a huge mistake that it happened the way it did. It's obvious that your death has taught us all to savor the moment, to expect the unexpected, to know we can't take anything for granted, to be grateful for what we have here and now, to never know what is coming, and to know that even if it's not supposed to be this way, we have no control over what actually unfolds.
Like every year I've told you in the past, we take you along. We imagine what life would be like with you here, and we feel your presence even when you're not physically there. I can't help but know just how you would smile, laugh, or poke fun. I can't help but know what your response would be to something. It's both a blessing and a curse to know how you'd be so angry about some of the things that have gone down lately, too.
Banner and Quinn have been especially sad at random times this year, saying they wish they had gotten to know you. Sam found the speech you gave at his bar mitzvah earlier this year. I took some of the words and put them into a letter that we wrote to Banner upon giving him his prayer book for his bar mitzvah. As I told him those words on the bimah with all his Sunday School peers, he broke into tears knowing how special that was. Of course, he also got mad at me, "Why'd you have to do that!?" You're very special to both of them, even if they never really knew you. The loss they feel is real, but I love that they can voice it to us.
Like I said, that's not the way it was supposed to be. Yet, here we are 11 years later. The boys are always excited for Halloween, ready to dress up, decorate the house, trick-or-treat with friends, and eat tons of candy. There are pumpkins to carve, patches to visit, and lots of fun activities at school this time of year. Looking at the calendar, we usually just see "Halloween" on October 31, but then it sneaks up and whacks us in the face that it's yet another year without you. It was not supposed to be this way.
Missing you always, and promising yet again to do my best to make each day a beautiful day for your boys,
Amber
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