This week was the 3rd anniversary of Les Granier’s death.  Victor and I took Joshua and Wynter to lunch at Goodwood Grill, which was Les’ favorite place to take them. The only table available was the same table as the last time we went there with him. I gave him some beads that day as a surprise, and we have those beads hanging on a frame with picture of the three of them.  Josh and Wynter both ordered their usual, the special of the day: lasagna.   The owner greeted them as always, and most of the staff remember them.  We gave the kids a glass cross with a poem, and talked about their times with Les.

Later in the car, Wynter and I were singing along with a cd by the band Train.  During a song called “I love your every color” some of the lines struck me :

I told her that it made me think of Les, and that I honor him because I love her and Josh’s every color  – and I don’t mean skin! but their talents at drawing, their humor and love of laughter, and even some of the things they don’t like – so  much of who they are came from him.  Les and I had a bit of a contentious relationship for some of the eight months that I knew him, but Josh and Wynter knew why I made the decisions I did (many at their behest) and in the end, Les knew he was leaving his precious children with someone who would fight and claw anyone and everyone to protect them.

I have two voicemail messages from Les that I’ve been able to save on my phone after two upgrades and a transfer of service.  After the conversation in the car, Wynter asked to hear them.  So when we all got home, we listened to each several times.  They are short, and it is apparent to us what mood he was in when each were spoken. The kids remember his voice well, and that’s my aim.   I remember how quickly I forgot things about my Daddy, who passed away 6 days before my 11th birthday.

They don’t realize the stress that comes over them leading up to this sad anniversary.  This year Victor and I didn’t plan ahead enough.  Like so many things that were tossed about in the waves of stormy chaos, that was a side-effect of the “Great Flood of 2016” which wreaked havoc on our start-of-school schedule.  And our nerves.

But even without the added stress of a historic natural disaster, emotional disturbances preceding the anniversary of a trauma are not abnormal.  I remember going through the same thing as a teenager, having a rough time every May leading up to the anniversary of my Daddy’s death.   Every year, I would forget to remember it was coming, and would get in trouble in school, at home, and have a difficult time being around friends… or people in general.  We are trying to at least prepare each September, be aware and try to keep an even keel.

We didn’t talk much about my Daddy in the years after his death.  But I remember how upsetting it was every time I realized I’d forgotten something else about him:  his voice, his smell, the feel of his strong, muscular hand holding mine.   I’ll never forget the day I smelled his cologne wafting down the hallway from my parent’s bedroom, and the disappointment to realize it wasn’t him.  But that’s another story for a depressing day.

This week, rather, we celebrate all the good there was about Les Granier, aside from the fact that he was just their dad, and that holds a respect.  We want to help them remember the best about Les.  Not to put him on a pedestal – they would deem that unrealistic – but to not focus on what could have been better or what he could have done differently.  Every night as part of their bed time routine, they try to recall and write down a memory of him.  I know that later, looking back in those journals, they’ll be really glad to have those stories and reflections.  This past May made 40 years since my Daddy left this world, and I’d give everything I own to have in writing the memories I held those first years.

And that’s part of how I know God intended me to be Josh and Wynter’s Mom.  I knew what they were going to need before they knew they needed it.  Because I’d lived it.  Helping them through all of this has caused me to process a lot that had been left untouched for many years.  Memories good and bad that evaded my recollection or haunted me, put in the perspective of the here-and-now-needs of my children who lived somewhere else for their first decade.   Any attempts to strip those first years of theirs from them or sterilize them into something they weren’t would prolong their grief and cause more wounds to open in their souls.  So, we talk about Les.  They remember good and bad, forgive the bad and celebrate the good.  We commemorate milestones.  We light candles and release balloons.  And we look forward to seeing him dancing in the sky, and that makes us smile.