45 Months…

My Dearest Lido,

Today you are 3 years and 9 months old. I’ve been thinking a lot about your upcoming birthday and how I can not imagine that you will be turning 4. It’s reality but I’m just not believing it…

Lately, you are just growing leaps and bounds. You love to count, love to sing your ABCs. Every morning you get your breakfast and sit at your little table in the living room to eat and color or look out the window to see if people are out walking their dogs. You love to be home. Although, you are going to school 3 days a week for their summer program and love it. You get pretty excited and are really coming into your own there. You are still quite shy but at school – as long as their are not huge crowds of people – you go skipping out to play with your friends. You are making more friends and I see that you are playing with the other kids more and more. You have had your bestie all year but you look forward to seeing a couple of the other kids as well and playing with them. I’m glad to see that.

You still amaze me at the things that you remember. You catch me off-guard quite a lot by bringing up something that happened a year ago or even two years. Sometimes it is quite the task trying to get my brain to remember what you are talking about…mainly because I’m thinking that what your thinking about is not so much in the really distant past. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that you bring up obscure little details from such a long time ago. It’s really mind boggling.

Today is Father’s Day. Unlike your Dad’s birthday, I didn’t try to push anything on you – no specific activity like flying kites to remember him by nor did I make it a really huge deal. Learned my lesson on that one. Instead, we talked about it a few times this week and last night you wanted me to tell you a story about your Dad. Today, we had breakfast with Uncle Drew and Aunt Toria then you and I went to a fun Lego place…well, it really wasn’t that fun. You really were not that thrilled with the initial ride – very dark and VERY loud…you got into the ‘video game’ aspect of that ride but you’ve told me several times since, that it really scared you. We had to go back to the miniature city several times so that you could take a look and see absolutely everything there…you were not very interested in playing in the little gym/blowup thing they had nor were you interested in building anything while there. So, essentially they certainly got a lot more money out of me that what it was worth but you had fun looking at the miniature city so it was well worth it. I’m sure you’ll be bringing up obscure things you saw that I had no idea were there – so yes, well worth it.

I could tell you were missing your Dad this week. I’m sure that part of it was hearing “Father’s Day” on the radio, at school, on TV, etc., and you told me during the middle of the week on our way to school that you were going to tell your friend that your Dad died. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to you because you said it with such conviction and in a way that you wanted them to know ‘this is me – this is part of who I am’…at least that is the feeling I got. You just said it in such a grown-up way – you wanted them to know. You wanted to share.

You amaze me.

I’ve decided on a cemetery where we will have some of your Dad’s ashes and when I die, a part of my ashes will be there beside his. It’s a lovely cemetery. Relaxing, reflective, meditative. I took a drive there the other morning after dropping you off at school to take a look at the areas where they had plots open. I walked through one particular area that I’ve fallen in love with and happened on a marker with a lovely poem that was written by a woman whose husband had it scripted on a stone slab when she died. It was signed by him – ‘for my beloved’. It was just simply lovely. You could feel and sense the connection they had. I’d like to have our plots near to there…it has a good feel.

On days like today, I hope that by having something like this, it will allow you a little reflection and a place to go to talk to him. Sometimes, we just need a place to be. Away from everything else. I don’t expect you to want to go all the time and you may find that during part of your life it is not a place you want to go to…just remember, you will know your Dad through me and you will know him through yourself. He loved you so dearly and wanted to be and loved to be a Dad – your Dad. I still struggle every day trying to understand why all of this happened. I know I am learning so much about myself and about life and people that through his death, I will be a better person. Then, the main question becomes – why did this happen to you. Why were you meant to go through life without your Dad? This is the question that breaks my heart. I try not to ‘go there’ too much and I try not to wonder what our life would be like if he was still here.

I just miss him terribly. I will always miss him. I will always love him as I will always love you. You, my child, are a wonderful gift that he gave to me and he is a part of you always. I believe he watches you and looks after you and man, you have so many of his mannerisms and expressions. Some that are quite subtle and in order to see you have to be present in the moment. They jump out at you with a kind familiarity. It warms my heart.

I love you my bug.

In this life and the next.

Your Momom

Explore posts in the same categories: Flying Dodo, Lido, Widowhood

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