A Window for Jacob

I know I have been writing a lot lately. I am exhausted, but it's hard to feel well rested for some reason. Well, I think mourning is the main one. I am at peace, I feel "ok," but some things just have to be done. Things like writing down my memories so my kids will remember Nana and Opa. It makes me angry sort of, because it feels unfair that I should have to do this. It makes me sad, because as I recall all of these wonderful times I ache to have them back. Right now- not after I die. But preserving happy-go-lucky days by tucking my emotions away is not going to change anything, and it certainly won't preserve their memory. So I did it, I wrote a letter to Jacob. He was the closest to them as the oldest grandchild and they loved him so much. I plan on writing one for Sonora, and a short one for Cori. But here is the first of the series. A window for Jacob to look through as he grows, so that two special people may not be forgotten.

This was by far the most emotional thing I have written, I hesitated to share. It feels deeply personal, though it isn't really. But for those of you that have said, "I knew Wolf, but not Doni," this is who she was to me. It is a long post, so be warned. And still, not nearly long enough. I miss them today. I miss her voice. I keep waiting for her to call me. I keep praying for her to be healed, and I forget she already has been. But my greatest fear is not that I will forget that they died, but that I will forget they lived. So I wrote this for Jacob:


Jacob,

It’s been nearly two weeks since your Nana and Opa went to be with Jesus. That sounds so cliché to me, especially since in my head I can see them walking in complete wholeness and joy, “went to be with Jesus” sounds like a greeting card. I am happy for them, but grieved for myself, and for you especially. My heart hurts more than I can say when I think about what you will miss out on with them no longer in this realm. But we can’t dwell on the pain, but instead the joy and love cultivated from hundreds and hundreds of precious memories. My greatest fear is that you will not remember them, you will not remember these two people that loved you. Oh, how they loved you. Nana used to call you “the apple of your Nana’s eye.” But I remember, I go to sleep with rich, sweet memories of Nana’s laughter ringing throughout the house just as soon as she heard the front door close behind you and your spiderman backpack, on your way to spend the afternoon with her. I remember her falling straight to her knees on the kitchen floor exclaiming, “COME HERE YOU, OH, YOUR NANA LOVES YOU!” Do you remember this? I do. And then Sonora would come up right behind you and she would shift you to one arm and open up the other for Sonora to fall into, “THERE’S MY PRINCESS!” I looked forward to that greeting every time we would visit her. Then as I rounded the corner with diaper bag in tow, you and Sonora would run to the right and to the left and I would hug her as she’d exclaim, “and How’s Momma?” You would always run right to her TV and ask for your favorite movie, usually Muppets with John Denver, and it later transitioned to the Steve Irwin movie (Opa found it at a thrift store, and picked it out just for you). She loved putting movies on for you and she’d usually narrate the entire time. If you wanted to hold the remote to play with buttons and skip around, she would gladly pass it over. If you wanted to be outside playing with the water hose, she obliged. Nothing was off limits to you! And even if something was, she’d usually laugh at your naughtiness (like playing in the ash bucket outside!) before she’d move you onto something else.

You loved drinking root beer at her house. You would always run straight to the cabinet where she kept it. If she knew you were coming over, she’d make sure to buy you a brand new bottle so it would be fizzy. She’d let you pick out the sippy cup you wanted (if she could find all of the pieces!) and then she’d began filling your cup, exclaiming “Every man’s gotta have his beer!” You looked forward to that so much. You would jump up and down at her side saying “root beer, root beer!” As she’d reach it out to you, she’d say (very loudly!), “Here you go, my little boy blue! Nana loves you!” I think she said this between 5-10 times every visit. I can heard the words echoing in my head. Do you remember her voice? It was deep and rich, and always loud, and nearly every sentence was followed with laughter that echoed throughout the house, literally! I remember her calling you “little boy blue” most often, but if she was in a really goofy mood she would call you (in this really cheesy British accent) “Master Jacob!”

You and her had this game that you invented together. You named it “shippy-ship” and the premise was that their California king-sized bed became a ship, and you were the captain, and she was the crew. You’d grab a hat for yourself off of the bedpost where Opa kept several, and you’d pick one out for yourself, put it on, and hand her pink one to her. She’d say, “Thanks Captain Jacob, now lower the mainsail,” and you’d reach above her bed to the blinds and pull the cord to lift them up. Then she’d turn her hands into make shift binoculars and ask you what kind of animals you should save. You’d answer that you saw a lion and she’d laugh out loud for a second before getting really serious, then she’d pretend to have a walkie-talkie hand device and lift it to her mouth saying, “10-4 Jacob, 10-4. I see a lion, there’s a lion, let’s go get that lion and bring it on board. Do you have your net Captain Jacob?” She loved playing this game with you, and I was always impressed how she could keep it going for hours on end! Don’t people get tired of playing with toddlers? Well, she didn’t! When she was sick I would talk to her on the phone and she’d say, “I neeeeeeed my little boy blue, I need him to come play with his nana!” She played cars with you, and “farm set,” and I have so many memories of coming to pick you up and watching her follow you around on all fours, pushing around a truck or tractor. I always used to marvel at how she interacted with you, it was like she really saw you. She didn’t play with you while she did something else, or tell you to hold on while she finished dinner. You always came first when the two of you were playing. And if she couldn’t play, she say “Nana wants to play with you baby, I just have to…,” and she’d wrap up what she was doing as soon as she could to sit with you.

She loved the relationship that you had with Opa. She laughed and laughed when you’d run into Opa’s office and interrupt his work. She’d tell you not to bother him, but when you ignored the rule she couldn’t help but follow you into the office and clap as you crawled onto Opa’s lap and sat right in front of his laptop. Opa always welcomed the interruption, he’d say “Heeeey Jacob!” He’d bounce you on his lap, and Nana would laugh, “You found Opa, Jacob, you found him!” Opa would laugh and say, “Saaay Jacob, do you want to see something here?,” and then he’d google “you tube trucks” (as opposed to going to you tube and searching for trucks, always made me laugh) and he would click on the first thing that came up to show you. One of his favorite videos was one that you found together of a truck driving over a sand dune and when it would go over the hill a man sitting in the back of the truck would fly up in the air and land in the sand. It would make all of us laugh, the simplicity of the video, and then how much it tickled you and Opa to watch it together! Sometimes he’d show you dog videos too since he always had some dog video that he was interested in: dogs dancing, dogs saving their owners, dogs that liked to chase sheep- he just loved loyal dogs. Which brings me to my other memory, Opa and Bo! He loved his dog so much, and he loved watching you play with Bo. He would laugh and laugh when you’d sit on Bo, or drag Bo around by his tail (or try!). He was always impressed with what Bo would tolerate from you! Sometimes he’d intervene, and amidst laughter say, “No, no sweetie, we can’t do that to Bo, he doesn’t like that.” I don’t know if I ever heard Nana tell you no, just Opa. But he would always say it just like that, gentle but firm, “no, no sweetie.”

One time Nana was bathing you and she was laughing so loud from the bathroom, we could hear her in the living room. She was all the way in the back of the house, but her laughter rang out until Opa and I were both laughing without her knowing. Opa looked at me and said, “I tell ya, I haven’t heard my wife laugh like that in years,” I “awwwwed” at the statement and he kind of looked down and got serious. He said, “Jacob has brought so much joy into her life.” She went through a bout of being sick for some time right after we moved out to California. She was still not feeling well but once she started spending time with all of us, she began to enter into a season of being healthy. A lady at the church stopped me once and said, “Summer, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I just want you to know that Doni has been sick for as long as I’ve known her, and to see her healthy like this just makes me think that she needed a new reason to fight a little harder, and I think being a grandma did that for her.” Nana was still sick off and on, but she would often spend days in bed so she could feel better because she wanted to see you.

Opa loved to share his interests with you. He is the one that got you into ships and submarines. He put on 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea while you were over one night. Expecting you to be terrified, he wanted to fast forward through the “scary” parts but you insisted to see them and he obliged. From then on, you were hooked. If he was home, you’d have to sit on his lap either watching that movie, or googling you tube videos on submarines! One time I came to pick you up and he was letting you watch “ships crashing.” I wasn’t very happy about that, but you were elated! You were upset when I suggested you watch something else, and Opa would just say, “Sorry Jacob, Mommy doesn’t like that. OH, how about submarines!” He loved having a grandson. Nana and Opa were not rich, but they loved spending their money for us to have good experiences together, like steak dinners, going out to eat, or trips to San Francisco to see the Giants play. I hated that long drive, but half the reason Opa and Nana went was to share the experience with you. You were so brainwashed by Daddy and Opa after the Giants won the world series (we watched almost every game together two years ago!), you would see any sport and say "Go Giants!"

We almost always had a birthday for you at our house, and their house. Nana just wanted in on it. She wanted an excuse to get you two gifts, one for our party and one for hers! She talked about your birthday for weeks before it got there. She couldn’t wait to bless you, though she did that sort of thing throughout the year, wrapping the present was just more than she could take! I can hear her so clearly in my head, “JACOB, THIS ONE IS FROM YOUR NANA!!,” and when you’d open it and yell “it’s a truck!” she’d clap and exclaim, “THAT’S RIGHT! YOUR NANA LOVES YOU, JACOB!” I’ve heard that so many times through the years, her say “Nana loves you” or “Nana and Opa love you, Jacob!” Usually loud and followed by a tight squeeze and a kiss. I am so glad she got to be a Grandma to you these last couple of years. She talked about you all of the time, every time her and I were on the phone she would ask if she could talk to you, even if she’d already seen you that day.

Nana took Christmas very seriously. And Easter, and Thanksgiving! Pretty much any reason she could think of to get you a gift, she would take it. Christmas is my favorite memory though because I can hear her asking you, “Jacob, you need to tell Nana what you want for Christmas so I can talk to Santa.“ You would get a present from Santa Claus, and the Christ Child. I think Nana just wanted an excuse to get you more gifts. We decorated their tree with them for the last three years. Nana would let you do whatever, but Opa would say, “oh, no, no, no sweetie” every time you touched an ornament. He was VERY serious about his Christmas tree. He’d let you help by handing you an ornament and then pointing to a part of the tree and saying, “Ok Jacob, that one goes riiiiight there.” When you listened and did what he said, he’d clap and say “Yeah!” but only followed by Nana jumping up and down saying, “THAT’S MY BOY!” We had a tradition of gathering at their house on Christmas Eve for a small dinner and then opening a present together. Nana would sometimes let you open two and come up with some goofy excuse like, “Well, I got this one for him to open on Christmas Eve so I don’t mind if he opens this one, and then we’ll let him pick one that was for Christmas day.” I can hear Opa protesting, and confused, with a smile on his face, “Nooo, no, that’s not how we do it!”

And then Nana saying, “Hoooooney, this is what I promised Jacob!” Of course, Opa would laugh and consent to this craziness! There was no getting in between Nana and a gift that she had chosen just for her Jacob.

You were always the exception to the rule, Jake. After gift giving, we’d all head down to the Red Church for their Christmas Eve service. I was never thrilled about being out so late with such young kids, but it was so important to Nana to have you next to her on that front row. I’m glad we went with her now.

Nana would have done anything to put a smile on your face. In my mind, I can hear her voice singing to you this ridiculous Spiderman song that always made us laugh, or “Jesus loves me,” or “The Lord is good to me!” She loved singing to you. I can see her down on her knees next to you when you had an owie, saying “Jesus, please take Jakie’s owie away, in Jesus’ name.” I've heard her pray this hundreds of times, as only bubble wrap would keep you safe! I remember the night you had an ear infection and me, Daddy, Opa, and Nana all stood around you while you laid on the couch (with your saltine crackers and root beer in tow) and we laid hands on you and prayed for you, and that night you were healed. I think about all of the prayers Nana must have prayed over you because she loved you so much, and she always said that “her little boy blue” would change the world.

I miss her so much, because I loved her. And what I loved most about her, out of all of the wonderful, precious things I will miss, is the way that she loved you. It was so enormous, so all consuming, and even contagious. I have prayed many times that the Lord would help me to really see you the way she could without even trying. It was always so easy for her, or so it seemed, to have you on one knee and Sonora on the other. To have you sitting at her feet telling her a story, while Sonora sat on the counter asking her for a cookie from the lighthouse cookie jar, and she could hear you both at the same time. It was amazing!

My worst fear is that you will not remember her. An even greater fear is that a day will come when I won’t remember what it feels like to hear her laugh, or sing, or tell her favorite stories. So this is for the both of us. A testimony, true stories of her and Opa and the way they loved you so. This is not easy for me, the sting of them being gone is so real. But we mustn’t forget, and if I could choose only two things for you to carry for the rest of your life, despite there being millions, I want you to remember how much they loved you, and how much they loved Jesus. These two memories have to go together, because one without the other is pure torture. They loved you, and you loved them back, and now they’re gone. But they loved Jesus so much, and they lived every day first and foremost with the hope that they would one day get to see their precious Lord face to face. So it is with this memory that we can face tomorrow, sad because we miss them, but masked by an inner joy that we carry their same hope.

Never forget Jake, “Your Nana loves you so much!” And Opa too, who would simply kiss your forehead and say, “Love you, Jacob!”

Summer