Dear Ethan, year 0, month 6

Posted on Mon 07/03/06 in Fatherhood

(click the above image to enlarge)

Dear Ethan,

It’s been five days since you and mom left for Tampa, and I can hardly stand to be without you. Taking you to the airport for the second time was a treat, although watching mom unload you onto the metal detector conveyer belt is a bit scary. Just kidding.

This month in particular has made me especially thankful for you. During the last two months, death has surrounded our family. But being with you has made the healing process much more bearable. In fact, I know you have been helping many to overcome the hardships of death. You’ve already attended two funerals, and you brought joy and happiness to both. In my life, I had not been faced with losing anyone very close to me. I’ve lost family and friends, but not anyone I saw every day of my life. Recent times have been different. I hope you won’t mind me sharing a bit of your space this month with three of the good ones.

• Mike was a dear friend to many and was especially fond of you. When you would come to work and visit, he would just smile at you and flatter your mom and me with praise. Mike has a son who he saw married before he died. He was proud… a proud that only a father can exhibit for his son. He considered himself blessed for being able to see his son content (with a wonderful woman, I might add). I now understand those feelings. At Mike’s funeral, you smiled and looked amazingly (as you usually look) at all those who attended. I felt overwhelmed when Mike’s wife smiled at you. Your new, gentle spirit helped ease a saddened crowd. You helped me to cope and continue to do so.

• Also enjoying your work visits was the fourth member of our office crew – Gramper. He was my last living Grandfather and one of your Great Grandfathers. I lived at his house during the first few months of my life, and he has always been good to me and our family. Shortly after Mike’s death, Gramper became sick. His sickness became worse over about a period of four months, and our office became emptier. You joined mom and me on a weekly pilgrimage to visit him once he went home from the hospital. He loved to see you. He never minded when we’d change your poop diaper right next to him or when you’d throw up on his bed. You would both stare at each other like you were from different ends of the universe, and yet still remarkably familiar. He held you during nearly ever visit, which probably took a week’s worth of strength to accomplish… but you were that important to him. A few days before he died, he called for you to come see him. We did, and he passed on in his sleep shortly after. At his funeral, you sat in the back and demanded to be heard. While family and friends were telling stories about Gramper, you could be heard trying to tell a story of your own. You weren’t crying, but you were certainly trying to say something.

• The third to go was One-Eyed-Willie, our dog — YOUR dog… your very first dog… one of many to come and not the last to go. He was my right-hand man and best friend, and he was special to many. Making the decision to ease his pain was, by far, the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. I am only thankful that you are not old enough to know what happened to him. Or maybe you are? Someday you’ll see pictures of you and him, and I’ll do my best to explain where he is. When I came home from the animal hospital that night, I went straight into your room to take a look at you. Instant Kleenex. Instant Smile. I sometimes like to imagine Willie walking into Heaven and heading for the Lost & Found Box… and finding his other eye. I’m sure he’s glad he didn’t live long enough to meet the hair-pulling, determined, walking Ethan. He was a bit intimidated your immobile, yet ambitious, self.

Amidst the loss, the home repairs, the daily grind, the air condition going bad in both of our cars, having to tear apart our bathroom, my messing up my shoulder, and your teething… mom and I have plenty of time for enjoying life with YOU!

So, we had our roof replaced. Mom and I stared at the video monitor as the audio meter slammed to the max with every hammer and bang from the roof work crew. We cracked up that you NEVER WOKE UP! It was very funny. Your mouth just hung open and you stayed sprawled out like a roasted frog.

You are talking all the time now (still uninterpretable) and eating baby food: sweet potatoes, bananas, peas, beans, beefy stew, pears, apple sauce, apple cobbler (yeah, I know!)… and still chugging the milk. Mom finds it funny when I try to feed you because it just doesn’t work right. See, you keep your mouth closed, and I haven’t figured out the trick to making it open. What I find funny is when mom tries to entice you to eat the veggies by sneaking a spoonful behind a tasty bite of some sweet fruit. But, you gobble the fruit and just sorta hold the veggies in your cheeks until it seeps out onto your chin. You used to like veggies… that is, until apple cobbler was introduced… I mean, Come ‘on!!!! Who would?

I’ll proudly disclose your doctor’s declaration of you being in the 95th percentile for height. You’ll be the next Valde Divac (except not Yugoslavian). If you don’t know who that is, ask my friend Matt. He’ll tell you just how fantastic he is.

I love rushing home from work to see you. I love hearing mom sing the “Daddy’s home” song… although I’m not quite sure if she’s singing it for you or for her : ) I know eight straight hours of teething is tiring. I see that you try to help her out by putting both of your feet in your mouth, but it’s hard to hold that position for very long — I know; I can barely touch my toes. After work, you we’ve been listening to The Dave Matthews Band, Thunderbirds Are Now!, Modest Mouse, Bill Cosby, NOFX, The Misfits, Norah Jones, Al Lowe’s For Your Thighs Only (don’t worry, it’s just instrumental), Louie Armstrong, Anthrax, Cake, Johnny Cash and much, much more… and then I usually remember that it’s “calm down time.” I often forget.

Bath time is fun. Morning time is fun. Daddy’s Home time is fun. Weekends, weekdays, holidays and every second of every day are wonderful because you are in it. Don’t worry… I won’t say this mushy stuff in front of your friends. Mum’s the word.

I can’t wait for you and mom to come home so I can get a big drooly kiss (not from mom — from you, silly!).

Oh, and the surprise that was supposed to be for this month’s posting… is postponed until next month.

All my love,
Dad