AJ, Your Friends Did Your Yard Work

Dear Aaron,

Nineteen years ago tonight was a quiet night for your Mom and me. We had just moved into our first house. Your room was ready for our new baby--neutral color; we didn't know who would be occupying. I had said my prayers for a boy. Your Mom made a promise to God that she'd be fine with all boys if God would give her a boy for me. She must have felt some pressure. I don't know.

We went to a restaurant and ate without saying a word. Contemplation of the end of life as we knew it and fear of the unknown left us with nothing to say to each other. The reality of what was happening scared me. Mom didn't sleep at all. We left for the hospital in the dark hours of the morning.

The delivery room started the experience looking like a fine hotel room. A little way into the delivery process, it turned into a full blown hospital emergency room. The doctors and nurses were clearly working with urgency at the last moments. Something wasn't right and the mood was serious. Nothing would go wrong. Not possible.

You were delivered. I saw your floppy ears and long, long fingers. They handed you to me and you were bawling. Not crying - that's too gentle. Not screaming- that would be shrill. You, my boy, were bawling a deep, throaty, bawl WHAAAaaa. WHAAAAaaaaa. Knowing what we learned in the next 18 years of your life, we now know you just weren't happy with being disturbed from your comfy, cozy, snuggly, warm, hibernation.

Air Bear, you were constantly being tugged, pushed, and enticed to move into life's next level. You liked be comfortable. You loved being a little boy. As a contradiction, you couldn't wait for life's next big adventure. In mornings you didn't want to go to day care. In the evenings, you were never ready to go home. Every child and adult were your friends. You loved talking to adults in their language. You said to a kindegarten tester "OK Hun. What do you want to do next?" Walking into Kindegarten with your neighborhood friends, you put your arm around your buddy Jason and let him know the day would be OK.

The Mom's of your friends were attracted to you in a way only a Mother could explain. I think it was because they found you entertaining, sincere, harmless, and polite. The Dad's enjoyed your good times attitude. We look at all of the boys and see some of ourselves in you guys. I know I saw things in you I admired. Last year, I was lucky to have had the opportunity (and took it) to tell you exactly what I admired in you.

I'll keep close that memory of our discussion of the cake Liz baked for your birthday a year ago. Me: "Is she your girl friend?" You: "Nooo". Me: "A girl bakes you a cake and she's just a friend???" You: "Yahh, so?" Me: "Seems like a really nice girl, and cute too. Why isn't she your girl friend?" You: "She's not Miss Right." Me: "And you're Mr. Right?" YOu: "YES I AM." Nothing wrong with healthy self esteem.

In the last week I received a special gift from Jeff Minnick. He told me how he drove up in front of our house at 12:08 PM on May 10th last year. His description of you walking out, off the porch and into the front yard was perfect. I could clearly see you, pausing on the steps, phone to your ear, head slightly down....smiling, laughing, walking. Jeff slowed down in hopes of catching your attention. He wanted to say Hi. He hadn't seen you in so long.

I know you would be somewhere today growing up, being a young man. Yesterday your friends came over to do the spring yard work. The yard looks fantastic. Steve grilled. Even Lyle was working hard. Everyone was here. They're doing the work for Mom, Patrick and me, but surely they are doing the work for you...and for themselves. We all need to heal still. It's a lifetime journey. Laurie made some cheesy potatoes. Remember how you would call her for a ride home from work if YOUR mom wasn't home? I know she'd pick you up today if she could. Laurie misses you; all the Moms miss you. They hurt in a way only Moms understand.

Last year for your birthday you came to my office. We went to Park Bank and I gave you money for your gift. Four days later you still had most of it.

Everyone was working, talking, and remembering you yesterday. You weren't their son or brother, but you are their boy. Happy Birthday...nineteen, goodness.

Dad