Thursday, September 24, 2015
Birthdays and brown couches...
You would be 28 this year. What would you be like? The odd thing is that I can't imagine you any other way than the way you were, you have always been yourself...I love that "self" I have never met anyone like you and I have never loved and liked someone so much. Your brother is a lot like you in many ways, physically you both look a lot alike, and you both have the same moral compass, a gentle compassion and understanding of things I can't even begin to grasp, and you are both good at math. He lives with you inside him, always trying to make you proud, to do the things you were not able to, he loves you so much and in return I feel a sense of pride I can not explain.
Three birthdays this month. Your little brother turned three, not sure how that happened, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he is actually here. We celebrated with spiderman, chocolate cake, a big spaghetti dinner and a house full of friends. I strung up Edison lights in the back yard and made a long table, it was simple but magical. He is a well loved little boy.
Noah is getting a surprise party. He will be 16. You had your pink champagne sweet 16, Aly had her surprise party with a band and rowdy friends. Noah is getting...a last minute surprise party, a bon fire out back, a handful of drama friends, he has no idea. He thinks we are going out to dinner.
I didn't go to the cemetery today, I am sorry, it was a long, hot, sad day. I went for a morning walk instead, had a long talk with you then just stayed home, my energy was low, my heart heavy. I needed a quiet, do--nothing, be-no-where day to just honor you and have my feelings without distraction or false cheer. Your birthday is the opposite of a celebration, it is remembering that there are no more birthdays, that you are somewhere else and all I have on this day are the memories of the birthdays you did have. It has to be enough, and I am grateful for every single one of them.
I will go to Oakmont soon...change out fading flowers, I may bring some grass stain, because of the draught they are not watering as much so the park is turning spotty brown. I have a love hate relationship with that place. I love it that if you have to be in a cemetery that you are there, it is beautiful. I love knowing that when I die I get to be with you, I wouldn't want it any other way. I hate it that you are not here in this room instead of there, I hate the color of the earth there, it is the color of baby poop, I hate that it gets cold at night, that strangers are buried all around you, that my brain is making memories of that place as part of your story.
I bought a couch. It is random. We didn't really need a couch, ours is still nice although smelly, and the couch I bought isn't really one I like. I am surrendering to a house full of boys. This is a piece of furniture designed for men. It is dark brown leather (fake) double stitched, it looks like a baseball glove. It has four recliners, a console to hold remotes and drinks. It is soft, you could nap all day in it and honestly if you were here you would love it (especially since it isn't real leather). You wouldn't like the look of it but you would love the feel of it, don't tell the boys but I like the way it feels too. It is very luxurious. This is a piece of furniture built for football watching, lounging and ball scratching, it has a wipeable surface so it won't stain or start to smell bad. It is a sectional so you can have some male bonding over pizza and zombie movies (not that we watch zombie movies) It is made for comfort, it is not pretty.
Why am I going on about a sofa? Well, there was a time when this was a girls house, we had pretty things, flowers in the garden, made pretty meals, had big boxes of tampons, drawers full of hair things and make up. There was an energy in this house that I loved. It isn't the same, the house is always dirty, I clean more, it doesn't make sense to keep anything pretty no one cares but me. The house smells like boys...it isn't bad but it is different. The sofa is me embracing that. The house has slowly turned to shades of brown, the walls are taupe, the furniture all shades of chocolate. Anything sweet is in my studio, or in your room. Things have become simple, no delicate little things to be broken.
I love these boys, they are my life line, they keep my heart beating, they make me smile, they make me cry, they make me proud.
I miss you. I miss the three of us (you, me, Aly). Now my side kicks are Elliott and Noah, there is less drama, no house of PMS hell, no one needs hair braided or eyebrows tweezed, no one to go bra shopping with, no one to steal my make up, no cute socks to buy and pajamas to share...but there is something warm and good about boy energy.
I will have this big ugly couch, giant tennis shoes, dinosaurs, shaving cream, construction vehicles, baseballs, deep voices, messy dinners, but I have a place to cuddle at the end of the night, and I am making this a home they feel good in.
I still keep you here, I have your clothes in your closet, your trees are still on the walls, I cook with your crappy knives you bought and I wear the pajamas you left that haven't fallen apart. Your pink blanket is in the blanket chest and in the winter I wrap it around myself and pretend you are wrapped around me.
You came to me in a dream several days ago. You were in the sunroom, sitting on the old Ikea couch, smiling. I was in the kitchen talking to your brother and sister, there were people here, a party? I looked through the open space that use to be our kitchen window before we put the sunroom in, and there you were...you. It didn't register at first but then I remembered that you couldn't be there, and my heart began to race, I was happy and afraid and I thought, "Damn I am dreaming" I looked around and everything seemed pretty solid and real, there was nothing dreamlike, everything was as it should be, but you were there. I didn't know what to do, I didn't want you to be a dream...then you started coming towards me, almost floating through the window until I could reach out and wrap my arms around you. You were real, your skin just the same. I kissed your cheeks and shoulders and I just kept saying, "I love you, I love you" In my dreams I have never felt what I did and that was you telling me you loved me and missed me too, it was all telepathic but it was clear and it made me so happy. I woke up...
That dream has stayed with me, even as I type this I feel it again.
I don't know what to believe Stevie but I don't even care, if felt so beautiful, it was such a gift.
Happy Birthday sweet love.