Michael in Stephenville.
I have resolved to start keeping this blog again. This summer has been long, hot, hard, dry,
frantic, and ever-changing. I have not
had much time to blog, and I have tended to be too depressed to blog. School is back in session, though, and the
blog is up and running again.
First for some updates.
Lorena is steadily improving. I
haven’t seen it, so I don’t know exactly how it works, but the therapy table
from
has been part of her therapy for much of the summer. Using some sort of harness contraption on the
table, Carlos tilts Lorena up onto her feet, and she is, thereby, regaining
some use of her feet and legs. That is
stupendously gratifying news, and I celebrate with her and for her. She is the toughest, most dedicated,
hardest-working person I know, and I pray that she shows the doctors here in
the States to be fools for giving her no hope and no chance for
recuperation.
An additional bombshell was dropped on me the other
day. Even though this is her senior
year, Stephanie is going to live and go to school in
the house with Lorena. I face the
prospect of her leaving with bittersweet joy.
Her presence will be great for Lorena who hasn’t gotten to see any of
her daughters grow up now for almost three years, and Stephanie will stimulate
Lorena in ways that her family cannot.
Furthermore, this experience will be invaluable for Stephanie to be
immersed in Spanish and her Mexican heritage.
But I will miss her terribly. We
are frantically trying to get everything ready for her trip, including opening
a bank account here for her and Lorena so that she can withdraw funds in
two of them.
This is especially poignant because yesterday was Stephanie’s
17th birthday. Big macho me
came into her bedroom before her alarm went off yesterday morning, lay down
beside her on her bed, snuggled up to her and held her as I was inundated with
a flood of memories of my little girl, and cried. Then I sang “Happy Birthday” and “Las Mañanitas”
to her, talked to her about many of the memories I had of her growing up, told
her how proud I am of her and how much I love her, and then slunk away to mope
in the kitchen like some big sissy.
Yesterday evening when I came home from school, I got to laugh at her
when she told me that she had had a dream in which I held her and sang Happy
Birthday to her and talked to her for a long time. I love you, Toughie, and I am going to
reprise this letter to you. Please read
it to your mother when you get to
Dearest Stephanie:
It seems like only
yesterday that Mommy told me that another baby was on the way to join us and
Rainey. We were pretty new to
Stephenville, and we were very excited.
Mommy was miserable that summer as you practiced your kung fu and karate
inside her. Needless to say, you and she
were pretty close. I dreamed huge,
wonderful, fantastic dreams for you as I would put my hand on her tummy to feel
you push and kick. I had never seen you,
and I didn’t know you, but I felt incredible love for you, Then came that unforgettable day in
mid-August when Mommy said it was time.
We called Dory Gunn to come and stay with Rainey as I took Mommy to the
hospital – and my life changed completely.
Soon I had another beautiful little lady in my life whom I loved more
dearly than life itself.
I have so many
memories of you Stephanie. You would
ride in the baby carrier, sleeping on my chest as I carried you – and I was in
heaven feeling you sleeping or cooing or gurgling so close to my heart. Later, you would ride in the back carrier,
jumping up and down as I carried you, bouncing me all over the sidewalk. I would laugh at you, and my heart would
exult in your presence. It seems as if I
walked all over Texas and Mexico with you jumping up and down on my back,
singing all the wonderful songs we used to sing together: “Shortening Bread”, “ Shine on Harvest Moon”,
“Los Colores”, “La Zandunga” and the catalogue of other songs that we sang for
hours and hours. Those are some of the
happiest memories of my life. In my
lowest times, I bask in the glow of those wonderful memories of going with you to
get menudo, posole, tamales, pan dulces, churos, or roasted corn in
mental movies of you playing at the beach.
I have so many wonderful memories of so many wonderful times. I remember (with desperate longing today) of
walking with you to McDonald’s to eat and then watching you play on their
little playground, of going to the park with you, and of holding your hands as
you walked on the stone walls around Tarleton or climbed on the Tarleton cannon. Those were wonderful days, Stephanie, and I
shall treasure them forever….
Memories are
inundating me now. Driving all over
with you singing in your car seat.
Fishing with you and hiking with you and camping with you and loving
you, loving you, loving you. Horsy rides
to bed at night with you, Rainey, and Lya all on my back. Blowing on tummies and playing “land crab”
and “flying monster” as you laughed and screamed. Laughing with you. Laughing with you. Laughing with you. Nothing heaven can offer can possibly be
better than laughing with you. One
evening earlier this year, Lya and I drove down
how long it has been since I have walked a little girl along those walls. I could cry when I think about those halcyon
days when your mother was well, and when I could hold you all and listen to you
laugh and sing. I remember so vividly
you and Rainey (and then you and Rainey and Lya) putting on your little shows,
singing and dancing and laughing and having so much fun. Songs from Grease, Mary
Poppins, The Sound of Music, Veggie Tales….
My heart sang with you every time you sang. I love you so much, Stephanie.
There were the scary
times as well. One of my living nightmares
was sitting in the hospital there in Tepic with you when you were about one
year old, and I can still vividly recall my feelings of impotence and fear as I
tried to comfort you as you struggled against the restraints that strapped you to the “cross” so as to prevent you from pulling
out your I.V. tubes. I hurt so much as I
prayed and cried for you. I will always
remember that horrible night that I was there alone with you in that hospital
room when the fierce storm hit, threatening to blow the windows out of your
hospital room as roof tiles shattered down into the patio outside your room. I knew that I would go crazy if you did not
get well. And then there was the Henoch-Schonlein
Purpura when you turned into the purple monster covered with agonizing, itching
welts. I hurt today remembering you falling down the steps of the
old cathedral in Real de Catorce and hurting your leg so badly. It seems in the dim and distant past that we were going with you to get physical
therapy from Carlos, long before we knew what a permanent and important fixture
he was going to be in our lives as he struggled to help your mother after her
stroke.
Stephi. You are beautiful. You are talented. You are gifted. You are funny. You are witty. You are a wonderful friend. You are smart. You have a beautiful voice, a lovely smile,
and a heartwarming laugh. I miss the
times I used to have with you. Even
after Mommy’s stroke, I miss the new you that I came to know and love. When I came back from Mexico as the battered
wreck that I was, I will always remember holding you and crying, thinking how
blessed I am to have you as a daughter.
You are a fantastic person, and I love you with all of my being.
LeeAnn Thomas. I am proud of you, I pray
a long, healthy, happy life for you, and I pray especially hard that I die
before any of you ladies in my life… You are the closest things to heaven that
I can know on this earth.
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