Memories.
They make me so happy, and they make me so mad. They remind me of everything I want to stay in my heart, and they betray me when they begin to fade. The fading is inevitable, of course. No matter how perfect my mind is, it will never be the same as the real thing.
Life is good for me right now. Jack is getting so big. He’s so much fun. He says, “Up, please” (“uh-uhb”), “Down, please” (“doh”), “Thank you” (“juhjya–you”). His favorite word that encompasses every feeling and every object in the universe is really an excited question, as really all of our feelings should be toward the universe… “dyooh dyaow???!!!” If he sees a brush, he combs his hair with it. If he sees a sponge, he brushes the floor with it. I can’t even put down in writing how much of a blessing it is to be able to stay home with him. We are so close.
I’m about to start nannying another baby. 2 1/2 months old, right around the age Jack was when Nate died. And, looking at her sweetness, I realize how I’ve forgotten about Jack at that age. It just seems like an eternity ago. I’ve forgotten. I look at Jack and try to remember how he always wore his mouth in a constant “O” and eyebrows furrowed in deep infantile thought the first 2 months of his life. Oh, yes, he was colicky for awhile. Oh yes, he pooped all over my shorts in despair when we got him circumcised. Oh yes, he would only fall asleep at night when Nate would swaddle him in tightly and hold him to his chest as he walked around the house. What else have I forgotten? What else will I forget?
Memories are the best and worst things about death. The best because I have these thoughts and images about Nate that I hold in my heart as a safely guarded secret treasure that no one can take from me. The worst…because they fade. Not all, but they do until I’m left with a caricature of the same person that I could correctly guess what would be the next words out of his mouth about 80% of the time 10 months ago (Alright, he happened to be an easy one, because he repeated himself a lot. A lot. A lot, a lot.)
I love hearing people talk about him. They have stories that I don’t remember. They say things that he said or did when I wasn’t there. But then there’s this part to it –sometimes, some people– to where they’ll say something or make an assumption about his character based on an experience with him, and I think they’re completely wrong about who he was. I mean, no one has ever, ever said anything bad about him to me. Mostly it comes in the form of him being too perfect, honestly. I wise remark here, a completely selfless action there, making him too understanding, to make him almost god-like. And he was nowhere near god-like, obviously. The most special thing about Nate was that he was so normal, so goofy, so…human. Mistakes and all. And yet, he did life so right. I tell people that he would have been inspired to change his life by attending his own funeral. He trusted God most–even with his doubts, questions, sins, regrets, and at times spiritual complacency. He really did love me, and then Jack, even when he was occasionally impatient with us or took us for granted. He really was such an awesome, trustworthy friend, even when he got distracted and forgot to call. Our marriage was fantasticly fantastic–even when I pouted too much and went, as he fondly called it, “schizophrenic” on him (insert “overly emotional” here), or when he chose a loving relationship with the computer as a personal companion over me or was a total know-it-all about things of which he knew nothing or very little of. We once got into a huge fight over how much toilet paper I used.
I’ve realized when people only talk of all the good things, he turns from a person into a legendary hero. A tall tale. Inhuman. And, the hardest part, not correct to true life. And I want to remember him…all of the little beloved idiosyncracies and all. All of the mistakes. Those same mistakes are why it’s a miracle he’s redeemed now.
And while my memory keeps on betraying me, (making me feel sick about it sometimes, and thankful at others that it allows me to move forward) I sit and think of all the wonderful qualities of the man I loved and always will, but then, I think of the things about him that annoyed the heck out of me. And I feel better somehow. Guys, learn how to love the imperfections of your loved ones. Please. You might somehow be thankful for them one day, like me. I know, I truly know it’s easier said than done. But imperfect people are the best kind of people, anyway.
9 October, 2007
9 October, 2007 at 12:15 pm
hi pretty, i loved this post. and yay! im excited that your about to start nannying soon! is it for the lady that i told you about?
9 October, 2007 at 12:15 pm
youre*
9 October, 2007 at 2:27 pm
yup. crazy story i’ll tell you later.
9 October, 2007 at 6:51 pm
great post, Lauren. I really liked reading it. Hmm, some things that drive me crazy that I should learn to love: Levi whining to watch “Cars” (the movie) about 45 times a dat. Levi jumping down the stairs while holding my hand without warning and almost sending us all flying down the stairs. Tim, never picking up his dirty clothes. Tim always asking me to give him a back rub right before I fall asleep. Isaac hating his baths. Isaac always needing to be held at the most inopportune times, like when making dinner, or changing Levi’s poopy diapers. Levi’s poopy diapers. Levi climbing on me when I’m nursin Isaac and laughing when I tell him not to. Isaac waking up when I finally get Levi down. Tim always talking about a new dream that causes true fear within my soul that he might take on yet another thing. Hmm, just a few thoughts your post sparked. Can’t wait to see you two!
9 October, 2007 at 6:52 pm
thank you for this.
9 October, 2007 at 7:04 pm
oh mandi. our men were so alike…thank you for that. having to scratch nate’s back until all the feeling in my entire arm was gone. nate looking at me and saying, “lauren…so…what would you think about ______?” insert crazy idea that makes my heart start pounding faster here.
i wouldn’t change those things about him for the world. i have tears in my eyes.
9 October, 2007 at 11:51 pm
I love this post, because I too strive to enjoy the ‘essential humanness’ about myself, and about Paul (though I’m better at it sometimes more than others). I HATE it when people over-romantisize their relationships in such a fashion that you sit there and think your mind, ‘Man, that’s so lame and un-real sounding.’ And its not cynicism, it’s realizing there is beauty in the ‘faults’. I remember when I went to stay with you and Nate in your little apartment and you were telling me how anal he used to be over your fancy cookware you got as a wedding gift. You told me he was always weird about which pots you could wash, or would correct you when you were washing them ‘wrong’. At some point you said he opened his mouth — about to lecture you on the do’s and don’ts of pot / pan care you ran upstairs with a loud exhale. I remember that story making me laugh, and Nate admitting to you that he was being something of a ‘Pot Nazi’. I also laugh cause Paul repeats his stories A LOT too. I’ve started holding up my fingers the number of times I’ve heard a particular story when he starts in on it (‘Erin, did I ever tell you about when I was a camp counselor?’ — me silently putting up 7 fingers…) I’m glad that you have such a beautiful appreciation of the realness that was your marriage. Cause that is absolutely more authentic than pretending it was nothing but castles and damsels in distress….
10 October, 2007 at 12:18 am
I loved this post, and do believe that that there is a quote in there that I will use as one of my most favorite quotes.
again, I really loved this post! Thanks for it. I love that about you. That you remember him, and talk about him so often! I love that about you. And I especially love you!
can I come spend the night with you again next thursday? I won’t be able to this week, cause I am going to go to chapel at DTS with Justin early on Friday morning.
10 October, 2007 at 9:34 pm
thanks. i am pretty sure erin and i feel like we know you better than we actually do. but it is great to hear your thoughts, feelings, and stories.
11 October, 2007 at 2:10 pm
I love hearing your memories. Thank you for writing this. I miss you and that sweet baby boy.
12 October, 2007 at 2:36 am
Man, I stink at remembering stuff. I hate that I can’t picture the faces of people who have gone on before me. And then I see their pictures and it’s like, oh, how could I forget? Weird.
Lola, I miss you. Let’s get together this weekend, k? I want to make some food, yes?
12 October, 2007 at 3:15 am
Hey Lauren,
I ran across your blog, from someone else’s blog, from someone else’s blog etc etc etc… I barely know you but feel I know you much better after reading your last post. I have tears in my eyes but also a smile on my face because I am so thankful you know the Lord and that you have Him to lean on. I often wonder how non believers make it through the hard times in life? Thank you for this post Lauren. Lately I have been more aware (for some reason) of the way I treat my husband, being thankful for the little things and the things that annoy me. This post was so beautiful and I enjoyed reading it. I am so thankful you are able to help Keri out with Joss. What a blessing this is for her. Lets get together one day adn play. Are you keeping Joss at your place? We could come over, bring lunch or something. Talk to you soon.
Emily
13 October, 2007 at 4:22 am
You need to call me back real soon! I have something fun to tell you.
14 October, 2007 at 7:52 pm
Lauren and Mandi – I don’t know if you’ll find this good news or bad, but both Tim and Nate are exactly like their Dad!
Compulsive about things that, in my view, really don’t matter that much. Some things that have do be done a certain way, or it’s just wrong! New and outrageous ideas, some money makers, some time eaters. Always a new invention, new passion, new project – whether or not any of the previous ones have been completed. (I’m still waiting for my bio-diesel in spite of having thousands of gallons of used fry oil stored in barrels!). And that strange delusion that I’ll be excited about whatever new thing he comes up with, when inside I am cringing.
The greatest way that they are alike is their passion for God and His Word, and their love for their families. They are all fallen and imperfect, they come short in expressing their love, they get distracted and take things (us) for granted, but there is never a question about what really matters to them.
And, yes, all those things that aggravate me (well most of them), are the things that I appreciate most-the things that I laugh about as I remember. I Especially appreciate that he has never stopped dreaming.
I love you both. See you soon.
JoDana
24 October, 2007 at 6:18 am
matt- i think you and erin are so cute. i’ve always felt like i had a couple crush on you guys where i liked both people but didn’t actually know you that well. ha ha. i still love to read your blogs, though.
leslie- i was so close to being able to see you last weekend. dang it. i know, it’s way past overdue for a visit to skillman.
katy- call me, baby.
emily- i’d love to get lunch. i also plan on coming to the mommy’s group at church sometime! i see a mischevious pair being made out of our two boys!
30 October, 2007 at 10:45 pm
hi lauren. i’m amazed that you are so open about your life and humbled that I get to share some of your thoughts. a surely amazing blog this is. you have a lot to say that needs to be heard. i’d love to hear some more and tell you some stories from my own life as well, in november. can we meet then? around thanksgiving? i’ll be down for michelles wedding for a week in dallas. all the best, jacob.
1 November, 2007 at 6:02 am
jacob! I’m coming for michelle’s wedding! I can’t wait to see you, old friend. yay.