Dear Leslie,
Trick-or-treating has officially come to an end, and with kids going to bed and the night slowing a little, it's finally time to take a breath. The yahrzeit candle flickers on the kitchen island, reminding me every time I pass it by, that it's been another year without you. The big event you missed this year was Banner's bar mitzvah. Yet, you were very much a part of it. We most definitely felt your presence, most definitely brought you along. Another big event was Paul's death. Oh, how you should have been here to hold Shelby through it. You'd be so proud of her - the help she gets for herself, the way she's moving towards healing on her own terms, the way she's navigating the bumpy road it's been for her this year. She really needed you this year, and it just plain sucks that you aren't here. Sometimes I get really mad at you. Not really you, but the whole unfairness that your kids and grandkids don't have you here. But mostly, I just feel so sad for YOU that you're missing out on all the things.
You're missing coming to cheer Quinn on at his baseball games. Oh, those are getting so fun to watch! You are missing laughing at Knox's ridiculous dance moves and silly jokes. You are missing hearing about Sam's latest adventure - whether it's traveling for work or off-roading in his beloved "Ellie." You didn't get to hear about our trip to Hawaii or how Richard actually went on a vacation! I bet you'd even love our Tova-girl! She's precious, and I bet you'd love snuggling with her. You missed Natalie & Kirill's wedding. You would have loved to see your brother so happy, full of joy and tears, walking his baby down the aisle and dancing with her that night. You would have loved to spend time with your extended family. I know this to my core - you would have been dancing, laughing, smiling all night. I can literally see it in my mind as if it happened - a memory that was never actually made but still so very real. How does that even happen!?
I spent the morning with my 7-month-old niece, Vera, Kindle's daughter. Kindle was telling me about Vera's Halloween costume and her music class with the other babies dressed in their costumes. It immediately brought me back to Banner's first Halloween and the playdate we had that morning with his baby friends. I was brought back to his first Halloween costume - Swee'Pea - and what a disaster that was! But then it also brought me back to how that day ended and what a shock it continues to be. Sometimes I still just can't wrap my head around it all, and yet it's still so very real, feeling like it all just happened.
These letters are getting shorter, I know. Partly that's because I know I'm saying the same thing year after year. And partly it's because I'm not finding a need to write it all down anymore. We think about you. You are alive within our memories, and sometimes even in the faces or expressions of my boys. We continue to tell them stories, share things you would say, or simply acknowledge it when we think you would have liked or enjoyed something.
Leslie, sometimes when the days are hectic or it just all feels too overwhelming, I get discouraged and want to just give up on parenting, give up on trying my best. But, then I remember the promise I made to you years ago, when I was writing one of these letters. I promised I'd try to make each day beautiful. I promised I'd treasure the life we have and that I get to be here with your grandbabies while you don't. This season of life is hard - I'm feeling my age some days, and my patience is short with an angsty teenager, more than half of this crew having ADHD, and alllll the activities that come along with three boys. But I'm so very grateful to be their mom, to be Sam's wife, to have everything we have going for us. So just know, the promise I made to you is renewed each year when I write these letters - to think of you, to reset, to try my best to make it beautiful, because I know it goes all too fast, and even the hard moments are to be cherished.
Missing you,
Amber
