Levi with his favorite Monster Truck
“Death changes a relationship, but it need not end it.”
—Lani Leary Ph.D.
This year 2020, thirty-two years after my son, Levi, died from heart disease at age 14, I am still learning more about my dear boy.
My favorite poem by Levi. Normally I spend the anniversary of Levi’s death at the ocean where the ever-faithful waves, breaths of salt air, and sandy beaches provide a balm for the persistent recurring pain from his loss. This year COVID-19 “shelter in place” significantly altered those annual plans. I initially felt the crush of disappointment by this restriction, but I shift to Plan B. I redirect my time and energy to sort through boxes of papers and mementos saved over the years. I reminisce over the hand-made cards and crafts from Levi and his sister, Kizzie Marie, eighteen months his junior.
Levi and his dirt trail bike. I shuffle through the photos stuffed in envelopes and albums. The images of Levi riding his dirt bike on Oahu with friends. Camping. Singing. He relished music and sang with abandon. People. He loved people and they loved Levi. When his breathing was significantly compromised during his final months—which limited his walking—he found such delight in his remote-control black monster truck.
After all these years, it is a surprise to find an unfamiliar brown manila envelope. Inside are several sheets of school-lined papers with Levi’s handwriting! They are a portion of what must have been an assignment to write a daily poem. Each poem is titled. Numbered, but not dated. From the subject matter, my best guess is these were written when he was 10 or 11 years old and at least in third grade because the writing is in cursive.
There is an adage that, “The eyes are a window into the soul.” In this case, I am stunned as I peek into the soul and mind of my little boy through the lens of his poetry. As I read between the lines, I glimpse humor, sorrow, hope, and vocabulary that reflected him riding on the Autobahn while living in Germany and growing up lighting the Advent Candles before Christmas each year.
Levi's very personal poem. Levi was exceptionally gifted with anything audio/oral. He could hear a song once and sing it back. He picked up languages as if drinking water. He learned not only Hochdeutsch (High German) but also the local dialect of Schwäbisch from Southern Germany.
He attended German kindergarten and first grade and would translate dialect for me—me, who spoke fluent German—when we chatted with the local farmers!
He attended German kindergarten and first grade and would translate dialect for me—me, who spoke fluent German—when we chatted with the local farmers!
He was learning Spanish when he became ill. While his audio/oral skills were outstanding, Levi had a hard time learning to read and write. Helping him taxed the limits of my patience. We spent hours and hours together as slowly, word-by-word, he tried to read and do homework.
What a gift and delight now to find this treasure trove of Levi’s writings and inner thoughts. For example, we moved from mainland US to the Hawaiian Island of Oahu and had to leave our dachshund with close friends. He never talked about his dread about the move or his grief about leaving our dog as expressed in “My Move.”
Here are a few of his poems. The parentheses are my reactions.
| My Move We must move away. That will be an awful day. Our dog here must stay. The Termite (such wit!) Once there was a termite. He knocked on wood, tasted it and found it good. And that’s the reason cousin May Fell through the parlor floor today. Love (so expressive!) Love is like a rainbow, that is very bright. Love is like a thunderstorm, when you’re upset. My Mom (did he feel neglected?) Mom’s in college now. Papers, books, always take time. Glad when she’ll be done. | The Letter A An apricot ant eater, ate an apple. Approaching an Autobahn, in Africa after Advent. Music I love to hear music, when I am sick. It’s almost as good as going to a flick. A Message for Me (he shared my passions.) The moon dazzled across the sparkling sea, and left a message for me. Live and be free. Similes & Metaphors I’m as good as a lamb, and sweet as candy. I’m very, very nice like paradise. I’m also pretty as a peacock. |
I smile. I laugh. I cry. I marvel at my wise and whimsical young son. What a gift. The power and timeless qualities of the written word. As new understandings unfold and former memories resurface, I find comfort in knowing that although he is gone, we forever remain mother and son and our relationship continues to grow.
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