Letters For Lucas

Wonders, Mishaps, Blunders and Joy.. commentary on my life as a mom in the form of letters to my son

Two Easters

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Lucky Lucas had two Easter celebrations!

His dad took him to the Bay Area to visit his grandparents for the weekend (yes, you read that correctly, I was immersed in me time for the entire weekend!) and had an egg hunt with his cousins and then came home to find an Easter basket full of more goodies waiting for him and we all got a surprise visit from his aunt Leah, who joined us for dinner last night. 

Here are some photos from our weekend, many of which my husband texted me. My favorite is of Todd and Lucas at the airport on their way home to me and Lucas and his aunt blowing bubbles. Lucas is lucky indeed to have such wonderful people in his life.

It was a fun weekend for all of us. However you celebrated Easter, I hope you enjoyed your weekend too.

Photobucket

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February 9, 2002

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Ten years ago on this day, it was a Saturday and my now ex-husband’s sister’s two sons, our nephews, ages four and six were spending the night with us for the first and last time.

All night.

I hadn’t spent that much time with children since I moved out of my parents house (my own sister is almost 12 years younger than me). I was equal parts excited and nervous.

With their mother’s approval, I took them to see the movie The Lord of the Rings.

A three hour movie!

What was I thinking?

They were both up for it, so I thought what the hell. What did I know?

About 30 minutes into the film, the elder of the two started and kept carrying on about whatever latest video game device my ex had and wanted to go back to our house to play with it. I gave in, got my money back and we headed home.

My ex was probably on the back 9 and didn’t want to be couldn’t be reached and I had no clue how to work the video game. There was whining and I’m sure tears, but like I do now with Lucas, I distracted them with what I can’t recall and before long they (sort of) forgot all about blowing stuff up while zoning out in front of the TV.

The next morning came too soon, not only because I was enjoying playing house, but I remember thinking I hope all children don’t wake up this damn early. Ha!

I remember I made pancakes because that’s what families did on Sunday mornings and I vividly recall envisioning myself being a mother someday as I gave each of the boys a turn mixing the batter.

Three months later, my marriage unraveled and I wouldn’t become a mother for another seven years.

Fast forward ten years and I still miss those two boys, who now have a younger brother and think of them often. I wish that there could have been some way that I could have remained in their life, remained their aunt.


This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop Prompt 2.) Start with the phrase: “Ten years ago on this day, I was…” (inspired by Business 2 Blogger)

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Three Become Four

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I am uncertain how or when it will happen, but we are working on it.

In the meantime, I can’t suppress the visions I have of Lucas being an older brother.

I am trying to enjoy right now, the time that I am able to devote solely to my first born, the time that includes just the three of us. I hope Lucas will remember this time too.

But, I do see him playfully bantering with a little sister or brother, invading their space and pushing buttons just to get a rise out them.

I see the sweat glistening on the two of their foreheads as they collapse in giggles on the couch after a long summer’s afternoon in the backyard.

I see him reaching out to grab her hand as we cross the street and nodding to me as if to say, “I’ll take care of her”.

I see him letting her win a round of Go Fish or Checkers, because that’s what big brothers do.  

I can hear the two of them pleading with me and their dad to let them stay up just a little longer because they are having too much fun to go to bed yet.

I see him helping his kid sister open a jar of jam for her toast as they rush around the kitchen trying to out the door for school.

I see him gently brushing the hair out of her eyes and a tear from her cheek after her first major heart break and then immediately vowing to kick the boy’s ass who did it.

I see the four of us sitting around our dining room sharing our highs and lows of the day, always supporting, sometimes challenging and deeply loving one another.

I would like to think that they’ll be close, my children; that they will gang up on their father and I as we vote on family vacation destinations, where to order take out, the naming of our pets and which movies to watch together. I hope that they will be there for one another in good times and in bad. Especially the bad.

Three become four.

I am uncertain how or when it will happen, but we are working on it…

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Ashes To Ashes

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Each time the topic of what to do with my parents comes up, I freeze. I don’t have any deep thoughts on the subject, I just become mute. 

My sister would much very like to scatter their ashes somewhere special, a place where we could go and “visit” them, she says. A place that is quiet and just for them and us, too. A memorial with a plaque or bench that would allow us to pause and reflect and remember.

Sounds peaceful, right?

I understand the importance of establishing a permanent memorial to help us deal with the continued cycle of loss, but I like them being on the top shelf in my closet, side by side greeting me each and every morning.

As strange as it may sound seeing their urns and knowing that they are there is comforting.

But I suppose she’s right, it would be nice to have somewhere to go.

But where?

Arizona might be appropriate. They loved the desert (even in the dead of summer) and all of our fondest memories of them are of our time there together in their home in Tucson. Selfishly though, how often would we get out there to reflect? 

Although they weren’t water people, I have always thought being scattered at sea would be pleasant/romantic/circle of life-ish, but apparently there are all sorts of regulations and somehow that doesn’t feel right either. 

Most couples have special places that they enjoy being together, but I can’t think of where that might be for my mom and dad.

My aunt once suggested somewhere near the college campus where they met, but that doesn’t make sense to me. Canyon, Texas was definitely a pivotal location in their history, but it was only a starting point for all the amazing things they did.

My parents spent almost 30 years living in far away places; Asia, Africa, South America and not one of them stands out as their proper resting place. 

As much as I would like to help my sister through her grieving process, I hope it’s okay that they just hang out in my closet for a little while longer. Plus, I have visions of them attending her wedding someday.

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Memories

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How far back do your memories go? Can you remember being two or three years old? Do you really remember or have you just studied photographs and heard the same stories over and over again?

I often wonder what Lucas will recall when he thinks back on his childhood.

Will he remember…

from time to time that his mom had black nail polish?

that every time a Dave Matthews Band song plays I ask him, “who sings this?” and giggle at his response?

that I’m always a couple minutes early to pick him up from preschool?

that I wear an “angel baby” necklace almost every day and my sister has a matching one?

how the song In My Life makes me cry because it reminds me of my father?

how his dad makes the majority of our meals because I’m a complete oaf in the kitchen?

how I may get so frustrated with him that I want to poke my eyes out with forks but the minute I am away from him I yearned to be near him again?

that in our house objects are not “it” but “he” and “she”?

that I’d be lost without my friends and the ones that have children I hope he grows up to be friends with too?

that his dad wakes up with him every morning so that they can spend a couple of hours together before he has to go to work?

Will he remember the Christmas morning we spent with his cousins, Annabelle and Francesca and the joy he exuded being chased around his aunt and uncle’s house, or…

“playing” the piano?

sitting in our laps to hear the book Purplicious three dozen times?

play dates with new friends with far cooler toys than his?

Visiting Nichole (In These Small Moments) and meeting her children, Katie and Matthew - December 23, 2011

meeting Fireman Steve and sitting in a fire truck?

Fireman Steve, Annabelle, Lucas and Francesca at the Moraga/Orinda Fire Station - December 26, 2011

Whatever Lucas recalls, I pray he remembers feeling special, adored and happy.

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Since You’ve Been Gone

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My Letters For You guest this week is my sister Leah, who also blogs at L.A. ‘n’ L.A.

Our mother would have celebrated her 62nd birthday this week and here is a letter to our parents.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I miss you both every day. There’s nothing in life that I want more right now then to see the two of you. A couple weeks ago was the fourth anniversary of your deaths. It frightens me how long you’ve really been gone. You’ve been gone for 1,486 days of my life so far.

There’s so much that I want to tell you. There’s so much that you have missed.

Ultimately, I believe that your deaths changed me. I’ve grown up since you died. I guess I had no choice. I honestly don’t think that I’m your “Little Leah” anymore.

About two years after you died, I moved to Los Angeles. It was time for a change and as you know, I had wanted to move here for a long time. Something else pushed me into moving and that was that Tonya had a baby! That’s right, your oldest daughter has a beautiful baby boy who I cherish more than anything in this world. He brought me back to life after you died.

Lucas is his name and he has your eyes, Daddy. I take so much pride in being his aunt and I do my best to make sure he knows how much he is loved. Tonya and I talk to him about you both all the time and he recognizes your faces in pictures. At 2 years old, there is no one that can make me smile quite like Lucas. There is no doubt in my mind that you would have made excellent grandparents and I’m sorry that you didn’t get that opportunity.

It’s still crazy to me that my big sister is a mother. You would be so proud of her. She’s amazing. Tonya manages to not only be my key support system, but also the most incredible mom. She is so patient and loving. It’s unfair that you are not here to witness her shine in this role. I think that it would have rejuvenated your relationship with her, mom. I really do.

Without you both here guiding and supporting me through life’s ups and downs, I have leaned on Tonya at times of need. I do my best to listen to her and trust her advice. Of course we aren’t perfect and we still bicker from time to time but I do think that we are becoming better sisters and better friends all the time. There is no one that I would have rather had at my side when you died. I like to think that we get each other through the bad moments.

Since moving to L.A., I have struggled to get a job in the music industry. After you died, the economy took a plunge and the music business has been weakened. Finally this past August, I landed a job at a small radio marketing company. I also nanny for a family and have even discovered a new calling in the photography world. I have made some incredible new friends and have even found many high school and college friends that live here in L.A. too. Simply put, I am happy with my life here and I’m so glad that I moved here. Through it all, each day, I strive to make you proud of me. I try so hard to be the daughter that you thought I was becoming. I often wonder if this is the life that you hoped that I would have at 27 years old.

Even after four years, I still catch myself questioning if you are both really gone. I look for signs of you everywhere. I can’t hear a Beatles song, eat a Snickers, walk by a Build-a-Bear store, drink a Diet Dr. Pepper or do so many other things without thinking of you two. I’m touched every time someone says that I remind them of you.

I’m still so angry at you, or rather the hot water heater in your house. I was robbed of so much time with you. It breaks my heart thinking that you won’t get to meet my future husband, be at my wedding or play with my children. These are just the big events. The little ones hurt just the same. I hear people talk about what awful relationships they have with their parents and how they aren’t close. I understand now that what we had was rare. I was very lucky to have such close relationships with you both. Of course, mom, you and I both know we had more. We were best friends too. I literally can’t breathe from sadness sometimes when I think of how much I miss you in my life.

I feel like an orphan. I don’t think that is going to ever go away. It’s a title that I’ve somehow gotten used to and I’m alright with that. If I had one more hour with you both, all I would tell you is that I love you more than words will ever be able to express. I am so eternally grateful for the life that you gave me. You are in my heart today, tomorrow and always.

Lovingly your daughter,
Leah

August 4, 2007, one of our last family photographs.

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Mornings

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8 AM again and my feet won’t stop from the moment they hit the ground.

There are hugs and kisses and cuddles in between picking up, putting away and preparing for day ahead.

Noise, chaos and laughter swirl around our kitchen and I realize I wouldn’t want it any other way.

More kisses as Daddy leaves for work.

Breakfast is served, lunch box is packed, we are dressed and out the door, but not before one last struggle to put on shoes.

As I drive home alone, I pray his teachers are patient with him, his classmates are kind and he uses his manners.

I count down the hours until I can see my buddy again.

I am a mother.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 3.) Write a post that is eight lines long. (inspired by Mommy Nani Boo Boo).

This post is was also written for Write on Edge’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt: Take me to your version of 8:00 – AM or PM, fiction or creative nonfiction- in 200 words or less. Constructive criticism is welcome.

 

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Death

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People don’t like to discuss death.

In many circles, the topic of death and dying is one of those taboo subjects, right up there with religion and politics, however, when it comes to death, there is no debate. Death is final and it is going to happen to all of us.

Death is the great unknown and thinking about our mortality makes us uncomfortable.

Death presumably can never affect us in a good way.

Death represents loss; loss of a loved one, loss of everything that we know.

Death is equated with fear; fear of losing someone and fear of how it will happen to us when it’s our time.

Death is a mystery and makes us question the unimaginable:

Will I go quickly?

Will I be in pain?

Will I see a white light?

Will I have done and said everything I need to when my time is up?

What kind of legacy am I leaving behind?

Will I go to heaven?

Will I ever see my loved ones again?

Will anyone attend my funeral?

How will I be remembered?

Trust me, death is far more than Elisabeth Kübler- Ross’ Five Stages of Grief.

I am convinced that if we talked about death more, if it wasn’t such an off limits subject, it wouldn’t be so scary or hard to face.

Having lost my parents at such a young age, theirs (60 and 58 respectively) and mine (35) and serving as the executor of their estate, I implore you to think about your wishes after you die and discuss them with your loved ones.

Openly.

Candidly.

Luckily, my parents did have a Will, but it had been created 28 years before they died and there were a lot of blanks and unanswered questions. With the help of many people I trusted, their estate is now closed, but it took the better part of three years.

Imagine my shock when I discovered on my father’s last “To Do” list a line item that read: Update Will. He thought he’d have time to revise it.

I also encourage you to talk to your aging parents and/or grandparents about their Last Will and Testaments in addition to their material possessions.

When my sister and I cleaned out my parents home, we separated the things we wanted from the things to be donated and the things to be sold through an estate sale, and still filled a 4′ x 30′ dumpster to the very top with junk. 16 years of paper mostly. My parents it seems were pack rats.

Death is no fun, but it is inevitable and the sooner we stop tip toeing around it, the better.

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