Checking In

Many of my friends and family know that my little family lost a loved one last week. I know that those of you I haven’t talked to personally are checking in here – wondering how we’re doing; wishing us well. And part of me feels a little badly not to put a full tribute here: not to explain the relationship, our emotions, and how much she meant.

But the truth is, this blog has never been the “for certain” place of significant recordings. It’s rather  unpredictable what gets put down in this space – and whether something appears here or not has never been a really strong indicator of it’s weight or significance in our lives. It might be a birth. Or it might be a picture of a kid eating a bowl of cereal. . . . Lots of cereal eating goes unrecorded here . . . as well as lots that truly matters.

Only know this: this event ranks among the most significant in my experience, and if I don’t write it all here it is only because I would rather not get Leisa down in this spot at all than get her here without doing her justice – because when I say, “Mike’s aunt died.” Well. What does that mean to anyone? Who could guess or know that “Mike’s aunt” does very little to describe our relationship or the depths of our connection to her.

I have worked hard – very hard -- to get bits of her down in my journal and in my funeral talk; and for now, that is where it will stay. But we do adore that woman. Adore adore. Our little world is all pocked with holes just now.

But, we are doing fine. We are mostly calm and happy and things must be all right because Anders is still playing with toy cars:


Jesse is still taking things apart.

And the kids are still saying smart-alec things to each other.

In fact I just heard this:

Penny: “Mom! Daisy taught me how to play bowling on the wii and then I WON her!”
Daisy (from the other room): “Beat. You beat me, Penny.” And then, in a low mumble, “You’ll never beat me at grammar.”

Strange how normal life – mundane things and even happy things – keeps happening and flowing along even when it feels like it should be holding its breath – waiting for us to fully cope and recover before exhaling and continuing on as normal. Weird that it doesn’t know to stop.

I will end with these two pictures of our darling Leisa:

Oh, all right, three (I hope you’re happy, Blaire.)

I tried to make Blaire (Leisa’s daughter) not use it as one of the ones she put up at the funeral, but she insisted because it does capture the essence of Leisa and Jesse’s relationship – he could be taking the world apart around her, talking her ear off, . . . or even picking his nose. Yes. Even that. And look. She only adored him.

We were so lucky to be in her inner circle.

(Leisa pics compliments of Blaire)