StacyCelia.com

Dear Liz, Jeff, Amy and Marc -

I remember every inch of your Hamilton home - across from the high school, blocks away from “downtown” and a short suburb away from “Benny’s.” I think you would each be surprised by how often I reminisce about your family. All six of you. In detail.

I envied your “pack.” I loved loading up our wagon and heading east. My vacations were spent in Glenrock and Passiac - not Florida like my friends - but I would not trade in the memories for any amount of suntan. I loved it. I loved that Amy’s room was declared hers across the red, white and blue wall paper. I loved Marc and Jeff’s huge grey adult desk and personal bathroom. I loved Liz’s window to the front of the house, her sewing room in Goosta’s former room and her pink Dr. Martin’s. I loved your parents’ incredible closet, extremely powerful walk-in shower and big square pillows on the bed. I loved the family portrait outside of their room - all dressed in white. I loved the stools in the kitchen, the suede grey/navy couch in the living room and the dog/maj jong room connected to the deck. i loved the fake projector/transparency device we used to play school and was intriqued by the silver tube in Liz’s closet. I loved staying up with Liz and planning out our future together (even our home that we’d share) and then setting our mental alarm clock to awake. I loved the personalized street sign in the back, the extra bedroom in the basement and the motorcycle that scared me in the garage. I miss waiting for my cousins on Pennington Ave. and then watching you arrive from the black rubber couch which was bordered by that sketch of Grandpa and his framed articles. Finally your clowncar of a Suburban would crawl up the driveway and within ten minutes, you’d be bowling in the living room and distrupting the peace - in a good way. I loved Thanksgivings in the east and the pies from Benny’s that went along with them.

I loved sneaking Liz out of school to go shopping - your dad couldn’t find out. I loved walking into “town” and shopping at card store for Gund Bears and Mandee’s on our own. I miss going to Jon Boy’s? and questioning why Amy ate her slices upside down. I miss hearing Marc beg for Aunt Sherry to take him to Toys R Us. I miss Jeff’s hockey talk and crazy cleanliness. I miss Amy’s big curly hair and “Married with Children” skits. I miss going to Benny’s.

Your dad always made me feel like I was important, special and at the “front of the line.” I miss watching him work the stove, chat with every single customer and sporadically coming over to make sure our meals were great - always were. I miss watching your mom fold lottery tickets and work the cash register faster than any machine could while also shouting at me, “get your hands off the glass.” All in one breath. I remember the humantashens in the glass - chocolate! I remember the book store three doors down to the left. And the card store next to that (not just cards, stuffed animals, too with the counter all the way in the back of the store).

I remember being a young girl and completely dumbfounded by the fact that your father woke up so early to get to work. He took us to see amazing Christmas lights one year and I remember thinking, “isn’t he tired?” and “aren’t we Jewish?”

I guess what I’m saying is that he will be missed. I missed him last week, too, because I have missed our relationship for years. I want to go back to the days when I knew Rob was out of the picture, couldn’t believe that Amy was picking out her own clothes and got a quarterly kick out of the major differences between the two boys. We don’t live close now, but we never have - it shouldn’t stop us from connecting like we did.

I will be with you in spirit on Sunday…there’s no doubt about that. I’d like to be there for more than that moving forward. Those were the days, most certainly, but we’ve got today too. And tomorrow if we are lucky.

All my love,

Stacy

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 10th, 2009 at 3:44 am and is filed under And even the kitchen sink. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.