Archive for September 2009

4 years

30 September, 2009

My Dearest Husband,

It has actually been over 6 years that we met…again. Tomorrow will be our 4 year wedding anniversary. I can’t quite say will have been as nothing is quite true at this moment. I still haven’t taken the moment to have caught my breath as I really don’t want to. Right now I’m trying to hold off on being mad and repeating how unfair this all is.

You were not supposed to be taken from me. I always figured that we would both die in our old age and hopefully lying next to each other making fun of each other’s ‘wobbly bits’. I wasn’t supposed to lose you now.

We are back in KC now. It has been hard. I called you on your cell phone when we landed just to let you know that we were here okay and that Lido was fine and enjoyed the window seat…I suppose I should have probably pulled over since I was driving a rental and couldn’t see much.

Tonight your friends and my friends were over. All the kiddos were here as well. Lido had a ton of fun playing and all I could think about was the fact that you should have been here playing with them, having a beer with your friends and swapping kid stories.

I am so thankful that you got to experience a year of firsts with your son. First time he rolled over, first time he smiled, first time he walked, first time he threw a ball, first time he climbed the couch and at the same time – we just haven’t had enough firsts. Even in this past week he has changed and I remind my self that I must remember everything that he does and tell you everything. Tell him everything about you. That is why I pick myself up and am writing to you now.

It has been wonderful to hear of the things people tell of you – all the wild times, all the fun times, all the serious times. I need all of those memories so that I can tell Lido about them. I may hold of on some of the stories when he is much much older. But I need to know them. I need to hear them. Even though sometimes it is too hard. Even though our story was supposed to go on much longer.

I don’t know what people may think of me using this mode to speak to you but I don’t care. Maybe people will see a wife and a husband who were in life together and very much in love – I hope that is what they see. We had our ups and a few minor downs but all marriages are like this. One of the things that I take with me from you is being in the now. I was the planner – you were the one who said ‘stop and breath’. If only I could do that now.

4 years ago tomorrow we were married.  It was the second best day of my life. The first, was meeting you again and our second first date. We always said that during the in between dating time, we were always searching for something in a person and it ended up we were searching for people we had already met. Even though we were on different paths during college and some years afterwards, I believe those paths made us grow as individuals so that we could grow as a couple. I never forgot you during those years. I’ll never forget you now. And I’ll never forget the day you made me your wife nor made me a mother.

I love you so much it hurts. It always has. My heart is still completely yours.

Your wife,

In this life and the next.


My Darling

26 September, 2009

My Darling Husband,

I write to you for the first time since your death, I suppose to maybe take a moment to make sure that you know it is every second that I think about you even though at this moment I have no idea how I continue.

The first couple of days without you, I knew you were gone but there would be sounds, movements, times of the day or evening that I expected that it was you or that it was time for you to come home. Now, I feel as if, well, I feel completely numb. I haven’t had the chance to really be completely alone to just let my thoughts roll until this moment and now I am afraid that if I dare think of you or reach out to you that it will be the absolute end of me. And I feel like I must not do that right now. There are so many people here to love you and see you off in the most proper way that I, as you of all people would expect, can not find the moments to take.

Lido is missing you. He is too smart of a little boy and loved you too much to think only that something is different. He knows you are not here for him to see.  Not here to take your patches off of your flight suit when you arrive home. Instead, right now he takes the patches and tries to stick them on me or whomever is holding him and doesn’t understand why they don’t stick.

I don’t know if it is the right thing or the healthy thing to do but we say goodnight to your picture every night and this morning he was lying in bed with me pointing to your picture – I gave it to him and he promptly kissed you. He followed it with knocking his head with the picture frame over and over again…so, I’m not sure what that means….but I know what the first part means. He loves you. The second part, well, I’ll watch for more signs…and maybe get him a bucket to put on his head.

We went to the crash site today. I told you that you must come back with me. I told you that no part of you must stay here or at that site…I guess a little bit can stay here as long as you watch out for the other pilots. Or at least flit about the country and the world watching out for all of your friends. But the majority of you – well – I want that part.

You are the only person that knew me so completely. I have found myself remembering things about you and wanting to share and stopping short because I just know that no one else will get it. No one else will understand each other the way we did.  Or maybe I should say that no one else will understand me the way you did. It seems that everyone understood exactly who you were – you were so perfect for everyone.

I still expect you to come home to me and I still do not believe this is true. I miss you so much.

Love your wife.

In this life and the next

One Year Today

16 September, 2009

My Dearest Lido,

You are one today.

My mind is trying to keep up with this. At this moment a year ago I was in the hospital deciding whether or not to stay or go home and see if you would decide to come in a few days.  We induced because there was nothing, absolutely nothing, going on as far as labor. I thought you would be born on your Great-Grandfather’s 80th birthday but that was not to be. I didn’t want to go home though because I was then thinking that you may wait until my birthday a few days later to poke your little head into the world…and I thought that we should go ahead and give you your own special day…It only took another 24 hrs for you to arrive and then you came pretty quick once things started! So quick in fact that you had the most perfect round head, blood shot eyes from the pressure and a bruised forehead, nose and face from everything happening so quickly…sorry about that. The epidural was wearing off.

Your birth was perfect. You came into our arms and into our family. That is perfection.

It has been a very strange year. I sometimes, well, a lot of times, don’t have any clue as to what I am doing and I feel like we don’t have the connection that I’d like to have. I know a lot of it is because I don’t have all the time that I want with you. I don’t get to be with you all the time and teach you things, play with you, develop our own little funny things.  I am really missing those opportunities. I promise you that I do try and make up for it on the weekends and in the evening and I am thankful, albeit a lot jealous, that you love your daycare and never cry when I leave you…although one day…if you could…cry a little bit when I leave. Just until I’m out the door and in my car.  Then you can go about your day and play and explore.

I have to remind myself that you are in the same zone every day. You are figuring it all out. Sometimes, I feel like you are going to have your whole life figured out by the time you are 3 the way things are going. The five minutes before you go to bed – well – that is the only time that I feel like you are even the slightest bit relaxed and willing to let your mind stop. Then you reach out for the book I’m reading to you at bedtime and want to kiss the picture of the kitties…and I realize that your mind is not shut off at all. I wonder sometimes does it even shut off when you sleep? Knowing you, you are probably listing out the things you must accomplish or figure out the next day (by the way – lists run in our family…)

We have opened up the downstairs to you. You were beginning to scream at the top of your lungs if we put you in the living room to play while we did other things. You want to be by us and around us and of course see what kind of “trouble” you can get into. I’m glad for this in a way because I know you are just taking all of it in. You are fascinated with phones and hold our cell phones or home phone up to your head and squeak out a “hi”.  You think you are so cool. You have – or had – a few words in your vocabulary but have not spoken them for a few weeks now. But your like that. You do something for a few days, then go on to the next thing. Then I worry that you are not ‘progressing’ how you should and the very next day you are up and instead of taking a couple wobbly steps you are running everywhere. It is like you try it – figure that you can do it – then decide to wait until you are good and ready to do it full force. I think you may do that with talking. You had a few words…thought that was good enough…made the parents happy…then in a couple weeks you will be reciting the Illiad in Greek.

You sleep like a dream now – and you better not be picking up ANY vibes that I just said this! We spent several months agonizing over taking a bottle away from you for your pre-bedtime meal. I decided that if you wanted it, you needed it and that I would ignore the pediatrician.  Then one night I just took it from you after a couple minutes and you decided that you were done with it.  You also used to fall asleep in our arms at night while we rocked and sung to you – and then one night you were just ready to go to your crib and fall asleep on your own. I know that people say that that is the best thing…but I feel sad at times that I don’t have that snuggle time with you anymore.  Especially since you are a man on the go these days.  I hope that you do find some time in the coming years to just snuggle with me and let me hold you in my arms. You are just growing up way too fast.

I do worry that we don’t do enough for you but I know that you will let us know if you feel like you are missing out on things.  That seems to be your attitude in life. You are still a very happy baby – especially if you get your way – and even more so when we understand what it is that you want!

You are walking like crazy and everyone once in a while will try and run. You tried jumping the other day but haven’t done it since. I think you decided that you weren’t quite ready for that one…remember…you have to save some things for later. You found that you can grab the cats tail and follow her wherever she goes. She does not really find this amusing by the way. You also love that cat very much and give her hugs and kisses. You know that poor old Maggie B loves you and you are very careful around her. You touch her so gently and pet her very nice. You even crawl or walk slowly around her so as to not disturb her when she is sleeping.

The other night Maggie B got out the front door and I had you in my arms and my bag over my shoulder chasing after her. No leash and definitely no obedience from her. I ended up having to pick her up with my free arm and carry both of you back, up the stairs and to the front door. You giggled and laughed and thought the whole thing was funny. Lucky for you I didn’t let on that my arms were about to fall off and my chances of dropping both of you were growing exponentially. Luckily for you and the Maggie B we made it safely inside.

Lido, you are a constant source of amazement. A constant source of laughter. A constant source of worry and headaches. A constant source of reminding me to take it all in. Thank you for making me a mom.

And every once in a while, could you please remember to snuggle with me? I’d appreciate the time. Even if it is for a split second.

Darling, happy birthday.

I love you. In this life and the next.

Your Mom

Lido and Mommy one week out from his first birthday.

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11 months 3 weeks and 3 days old with Mommy at Cannon Beach.

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6 months pregnant:

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About 8 months and then some pregnant…wow.

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Ultrasound at around 26 weeks.


September 16th. Two minutes old. Look at that bruised face!

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About 10 hours old.

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5 Days old.

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9 months:

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11 Months:

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