Liam and his Papa, July 2006.
This blog is ultimately a way for us to keep in contact with our distant friends and make sure that everyone can see Liam as he grows up. For Mike and I, this blog also acts as a baby book of sorts. That being the case, I want this entry to mark both the death of Dad but also a way to remember him so that Liam can return to this blog when he is older and feel a deeper connection with his Papa. But what do I know really? For all I know, right now, Liam is communicating with Dad in ways he will always hold onto.
Let me try to explain what I mean...
When Mom was staying with Liam while I was in the hospital (lest we forget what a terrible spring it has been for us here in Maine), she and Liam would play a game in which they would pretend to be on the phone with Papa. "Hello Papa" they would bellow out and then giggle away. Liam could play this game for ever and still find it hilarious. Well, Liam continues to have phone conversations with Papa but they seem to last longer now. Children, especially young children, seem so much more open and present then we are as adults. When Liam was an infant I was convinced he could see things that I was not aware of. He could sense changes in energy and light faster and more consistently then I. I noticed times when his hair would raise up like an animals when they are excited or sense danger. All these things about his perception make me wonder if he isn't communing with Dad on some more cosmic level- I really hope he is.
With all that aside, there is so much that I want to make sure that Liam knows about his grandfather. As Tyler said at Dad's service, you had to experience Dad. My hope is that without that possibility, Liam will experience Dad through the stories and actions of those who knew and loved him so well. I fully expect Trevor, Tyler or our cousin Byron to surprise Liam with his first wet willy. I hope that when we meet Dad's old fraternity brothers they will tell Liam why Dad was called Flapper. Some Christmas when all the cousins are older, I can't wait for Mom to pull out the Ungame and force them all to go through the "Frightful Forest." I wish that Cathy will help me take Liam on his first official cemetery hike. I hope for years of campfires in which Turtle's voice and Dad's favorite songs become as much a staple of childhood as they were for me. While I doubt I will be able to get a dog in a jar (ex-science teacher and Dad's sick humor sometimes made for a really strange mix), I hope that I can channel enough of that sick humor to leave Liam with stories that will leave his future friends wondering what kind of house he grew up in.
I remember vividly that when my great-grandparents and then my grandmother (Dad's grandparents and mother) died within a very short time of each other, he spoke of placing them each on a different star in the constellation Cassiopeia. He did this so that as he took in the night sky and gazed upon the constellations he would feel a deeper connection to those he lost. Family, both immediate and distant, were always important to Dad as was nature and the night sky. By using Cassiopeia, Dad was able to make sure that whenever we all gazed upon the stars, no matter how far apart we were, we would always be connected by the things he loved. My first night hike with Liam, I plan to point out the constellation and name each family member who resides there so he will know the strength of the family from which he comes.
They say it takes a village to raise a child. My hope is that it will take a village full of people who loved Dad to let Liam experience all the strange and wonderful ways that Dad looked at and took on the world. May Liam see the love Dad had for all people shine through each of you that we are lucky enough to have in our lives.
Or, perhaps a wheelbarrow is better used as a sedan chair.
