Last week the boys got this piece of bamboo out of a neighbor’s yard and dragged it to our house. They played with it virtually non-stop for about three days straight. Finally they lost interest, but before they did they must have come up with about a zillion things to do with a piece of bamboo. And they were very proud to show it off to anyone and everyone who happened to come anywhere near our house (the mailman, the FedEx guy, neighbors walking their dogs, visitors, etc., etc., etc.).
A year ago, when the boys got their bikes, it was hard to believe that they’d ever be able to ride them without training wheels. And then, just like that, in the blink of an eye, it is twelve months later and here we are. Isn’t it just unbelievable how fast time can fly? Braydon had known for a long time that K & O were ready to have their training wheels taken off. And K & O wanted them off. A few weeks ago we started telling them that “when the pool man comes to close the pool, then we’ll take the training wheels off!” It was something to look forward to (and something to lessen the blow of the pool closing). On Thursday, October 9, late in the day, the pool man came to close the pool. And so, bright and early, on Friday, October 10, before school, Braydon and Kyle and Owen were in the garage taking off the training wheels! Kyle made sure we were all up early for the big event. It was still dark out when they got outside. And with the sun just starting to peek out, the boys had their first ride without training wheels. Of course, just as you might expect with K & O… they just jumped onto the bikes and started riding. There was virtually no transition time to go from training wheels to no-training-wheels. Rather than have to teach or push or run-holding-onto-the bike, Braydon, the ever-proud-Papi, drank his steaming coffee and watched, beaming, as his boys rode up and down the driveway getting their first fast taste of fully mobile freedom. And yesterday, less than two weeks later, I was watching them do “big skids!” and real honest-to-goodness-front-wheel-hopping-off-the-ground-‘wheelies’ in the driveway. The end of an era. And another start anew.
I don’t know how it started, but we’ve taken to calling Meera “Little Miss Meera,” “Little Miss M,” or –more often– simply, “Little Miss.” One of the boys’ favorite activities is giving Little Miss a bath in the kitchen sink. I don’t know who loves it more– them, or Little Miss. These photos were taken sometime in the past couple weeks (I’ve lost track of when exactly, but I know it was after school one day).
Growing up, my mom never hesitated to have me play hookie from school when she thought that I needed a day of R & R to re-group and rejuvenate. Even as a young child I was always an over-achiever, always driven, always pushing myself to the limits. She was a great mom for a kid like that — she was always on top of me about it, always encouraging me to slow down and “stop to smell the roses.” While other kids’ mothers nagged them to try harder, mine nagged me to take it down a notch. And when push came to shove, she’d keep me out of school to force the issue if she had to. She was more than willing to go to bat for me if any of my teachers had a problem with it. In my teenage years she began advocating for me to decide for myself when I needed these hookie days. And by the last couple years of high school, when I would tell her I needed to take a day to play hookie from school, she had no problem writing me an “excused absence” note to give to the principal’s office the next day. These were not days shared with friends. These were not days to get stuff done. These were not days jaunting off to do adventurous things. It was always just me, or me and my mom. I always stuck close to home. And the days were always planned so that they didn’t get in the way of tests or important school events. What a gift this was to me from my mom: the invaluable gift of teaching a highly-ambitious-go-go-go-kind-of-kid how to monitor herself and take time out when she needed it. To this day this is one of the gifts for which I am most grateful to my mother. So, it is a very conscientious thing on my part to now try to pass that gift along to my two go-go-go-go-go-and-never-stop boys.
We got back from Meera’s baptism weekend late Sunday night. It had been an exhausting couple of weeks both emotionally and physically. Lots of travel (to New Hampshire for four days when Eric died; to Connecticut for two days for Meera’s baptism), lots of people, lots of loss of routine, lots of eating on the run, lots of sleep deprivation, lots and lots and lots to think about. Sending the boys off to school first thing Monday morning just seemed wrong. And so it was… a day to play hookie from school. It turned out to be an absolutely glorious fall day. The boys were in their element playing together outside in the foliage all day long. And Tuesday they were ready to get back at it again– off to school they went, happy, rested, recuperated, regrouped, and rejuvenated. That hookie day ranks up there as one of our best days in a long while.
Meera’s baptism was Sunday! We made a big celebratory weekend of it in Connecticut with my parents and a few of our closest friends in the whole wide world. This baptism weekend had been planned for awhile, and we all agreed that despite everything happening in my family it was important for us to go through with it. Actually, we all agreed that because of everything happening in my family it was extra important to go through with it. We needed an up-lift… and leave it to Meera to uplift us. Meera Grace, full of grace, full of infectious deep boundless joy. This girl knows how to make a person feel that there is good in the world. Seriously. And it was time for her to be baptised. It felt so perfect in every way. Driving home Braydon said something to the effect of, “It just feels so good now — to know that she is baptised — it just feels content and complete somehow.” And I agreed. It just all felt so right. And that was/is a good feeling.
Beth, a camp friend of mine since we were in Junior High, and me and Braydon’s dearest friend, is Meera’s Godmother. She is also the pastor of St. Mark’s Lutheran Church in Bridgeport, Connecticut. We have a lot of wonderful history together and she’s the absolute perfect person to be Meera’s Godmother. We all gathered at Beth’s church for Beth to baptise her Goddaughter herself. It was really special and beautiful. Highlights of the weekend were:
Lots of photos below!!!
Since Tuesday one week ago, Heather’s family has been coping with an unimaginable tragedy. A tragedy no family should have to face, one no parent should ever have to endure. A tragedy I don’t think we can really ever understand.
Six weeks after Heather’s cousin, Karen Stasko, died of cancer, Karen’s 34 year old brother, Eric Bonde, ended his own life.
Heather’s aunt and uncle, now have only memories of their children. And Heather, her parents and sister, have only photos and stories.
There are some who will condemn Eric’s action, some who will blame his parents or friends, some who will claim that he was selfish or weak and some who will damn him forever. Anyone who does this, does so out of ignorance or malice, and in the Johnson family, there is no room for either.
Despite family issues that everyone has, the Bonde family and the Johnson family are the tightest, most loving I have ever known. They are generous in the ways that matter, they are generous in love. They have deep faith and all of us know that Karen and Eric are together, in a better place, watching over the entire family, with warmth and love.
There is nothing that can replace your children, and as a father of 4 year olds and a 4 month old, I can not even allow myself to imagine that loss. Even conjuring it as a possibility is too much to bear. I am unable to imagine how Karen and Eric’s mother and father will go forward, although I know they will.
I choose to look to the future with hope for my babies. And if there is anything that tells me that hope is reasonable, it’s in seeing K&O playing with the other kids at the Bonde’s house, in the beautiful fall New England sunlight. And watching Eric’s mother adore Meera’s squeal of delight and hearing the stories of friends and family as they remember Eric in the most important ways. With love.
We will never really know what brought Eric to that place, but we know his suffering is over and he is now at peace
Thank you to everyone who checked in on us during our blogging break, we appreciate it very very much.
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