More Memories

October 31, 2010
Michael,

Here’s another compilation of memories that have come to mind this last month:

The Star Spangled Banner. Remember when I’d sing that all the time and how sick of it you got? I especially did that in Arizona. Sundays seemed to be my singing days. Ha ha. You were such a good sport about my singing. A good sign of that is when we went to the cabin that last time, and as we were frantically loading Andi and Harry up in the car (it was getting way late), we were singing my made up tune about “going home” and “riding in Grandpa’s truck.” Good times. Loved singing our own made up songs with you.

When you worked at ARUP during our dating years and how badly you hated it. You couldn’t stop talking about how terrible it was. I remember meeting you up there several times. It didn’t surprise me when that job ended. You needed to be done.

You always got so mad if you were awakened in an abrupt manner. The worst, though, when I was the one to blame for it. Holy crap, you’d freak out. You’d immediately jump up and overreact to everything until you were able to get grounded and actually wake up.

“Hunger Monster.” Yep. You knew all about it. And I came to know of his presence even if we never spoke of it.

The fireplace in the winter evenings. Waking up in the middle of the night to turn it off. Loving the warmth as we cuddled on the love sac or in bed. Listening to the hum of the blower. Turning it on always made me feel an even deeper appreciation for all the work you put into our home, and how this fireplace was a big part of that.

Flying kites on that cloudy Sunday last spring with Andi and Harry at the River Parkway park. I tried a million times to make our broken kite work, but to no avail. After I convinced you it was broken, you were bound and determined to fix it.

Going to ASU to watch wrestling meets with you on Friday nights.

You loved "Dawson’s Creek." I know I shouldn’t share that, but I think it’s such an endearing thing. It’s the stupidest show ever, but you still totally loved those cheesy stories about Joey and her latest crises in love.

You often took longer than me to get dressed when we went to the temple. I’d always be in the waiting room waiting for you when you'd come out. Sometimes I wondered if you did that just ‘cuz you knew I’d take a long time. But then I realized you were just being your meticulous self.

Without me ever asking, you’d always drive me right up to a door to drop me off. When it was raining or snowing you’d get out and hold my umbrella for me. You’d also carry all my bags (Andi’s diaper bags, my big purse, my church bag, etc.)

I have a post-it note from you that I stuck in my planner. I asked you to write down the Marvel Legends you wanted. It says:
Marvel Legends—Icon Series: Spiderman (hanging upside down)
Ironman (normal red and yellow)
Captain America (normal with mask on)
Punisher
Hulk (with purple pants)

All your PA friends:
Justin, his wife, and crazy little boy.
The Mormon crowd that convinced us both that Mormons can be really unaccepting and click-ee to everyone else.
Amy and her husband that became the Elders Quorum president. (And how you’d make fun of her all the time, even though it was, I’m sure, to make me feel better about the fact that she’s probably one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.)
Marti and his son with autism.
Going to these people's houses and going to the Diamondbacks game with them. Meeting at the school for parties, etc.

As we worked at the house together, when we’d pass each other, one of us would say, “Do you know I love you?” And then the other would say, “I love you more.” And then, “Most!” And that was that. We’d often repeat the exchange as we continued to be together.

The Kalai date. That music came to define us after that night. How we went to dinner after the concert and you had your dad and Joann go early to set up the table for us—complete with lit candles, chocolates, and that present in the pretty purple box that I still have to this day.

Going to the Parade of Homes when I was 8 months pregnant, and frantically looking for a port-a-potty at each site we went to. We saw “Hancock” later that night.

Going to Breckenridge for my 25th birthday and staying with Aunt Ruthie afterwards. While skiing there in Breckenridge, I was of course so cold, so you took it upon yourself to make sure I was outfitted in maximum warmth. We spent the evening in the hot tubs that night and met that couple from Germany.

I’d always say to you, “I love Harry. He was the best gift ever.” And you’d say, “I know. You love him more than me.”

Taking Harry to the Petsmart training classes in Mesa and meeting that awesome trainer we loved so much. Wasn’t his name Charlie? He had been in the military and had those beautiful, huge dogs. He totally knew his stuff.

Going to the Superstition Springs mall and buying that “Cuba” jacket for you. And you following me to the dressing rooms in Dillard’s so I could try on all those endless clothes.

FastBreak. Remember that? You wanted a candy bar so badly that had our idea of a perfect combination: Chocolate, peanut butter, caramel, and pretzels. I remember you called Daniel about it, wondering what you could buy that had that in it. You found out about FastBreaks. Ha ha.

Your black CRX you drove while we were dating. At first you had the red truck I liked so much, then we mostly drove in your CRX. It had some sort of oil leak that made it smell terribly inside. All your clothes smelled that way for a long time after that.

Our Ben and Jerry’s last favorite flavor find: What was it? It was like Cookies and Cream, but it had chocolate chip cookie chunks in it instead—Just like that glorious ice cream we had in Washington. Best ever.

How you’d wear your bracelets—The yellow one especially, but you wore a white one there at the end. The yellow was the “live strong” one, the white was the Dave Ramsey one.

Redbox.

Getting that speeding ticket on our way to the temple. December 28, 2007. Me and stop signs don’t get along. But speaking of you, speeding tickets, and stop signs, I could certainly talk more about that! --Oh man, maybe we shouldn’t go there. Suffice it to say it was just a good thing Tony let you keep your job. Oh, Michael…I must say it was a fight to keep you, and perhaps even me, prepared and unhurried.

The time spent in Logan on our Honeymoon. The limo. The Jesse James suite.

You loved the show, “Heroes.” You got so into it. Evil Siler and "Clare Bear" as you always said.

The weekly fight on Sunday afternoons incited by getting loaded in the car. You’d take forever, and I’d get impatient. You’d insist on getting the details in place before we could go, including having the perfect song playing on the Ipod. You’d take literally centuries to find that perfect song.
But some days we’d just listen to NPR—Stories from Lake Wobegon. Good stuff.

When you’d wear your gas mask while you did your laundry. That’s right. You wore a gas mask. You and your Era—the stain fighting formula!

When you took the stitches out of my finger last May, and how I got pissed that you insisted to do so. I should have trusted you, because you did great.

Watching you shave with your white towel wrapped around you as you listened to your tunes. Me cleaning up your cute little hairs that spread all over the bathroom.

Watching the fireworks at Oakridge Country Club while we were dating. Riding your motorcycle there.

We made pacts about what we’d keep just between us. And we always did. You were so loyal that way.

How much you loved the show, Good Will Hunting. I never watched that all the way through, but you made a point of showing me the parts when Robin Williams talks adoringly about his dead wife. You’d show me those parts and say, “That’s how I feel about you.”
I watched that show a few weeks ago, by the way, when I was having trouble sleeping one night. (As usual.) I cannot believe I hadn’t watched it before, because I realize now why you loved it so much. It explains you so much. There are so many parallels between “Will” and you. It reiterated to me how much you had internalized this need for “success” and that you had to prove “success” to yourself time and time again. That frustrated me sometimes.
You were also like “Will’ because it seems you had that same characteristic of being able to shut people out when you wanted or needed to. You had a keen ability to put up a wall, so to speak. I felt you do that with me sometimes, but more in the beginnings of our relationship. It rarely happened as we got older, but when it did, it got me really upset. I felt we were beyond that. And we were. But at that point in our relationship, you could get over it pretty quickly.
I now get why you loved that movie so much, Michael. Sorry it took me a while to take the time to “get you” even more.

When we took Andi up to Park City with Ron and Joann last October, our girl threw up in her port-a-crib. We took her to the doctor at McKay Dee the next day. She had to have all those tests done and you were so sweet about it.

Mom’s spaghetti. I loved it but you thought it was pretty weird. Ha ha. That and Utah Noodle were Luke things you just couldn't understand.

Ute games! Andi and her cheerleading outfit. The TCU game you loved so much. How badly you HATED BYU.

How you said to me time and time again, even that last weekend, that “I’d rather shoot high and not make it then set stupid goals for myself that don’t push me to succeed further.”

That outline you wrote for me on a notepad paper about making it to the Kaysville house by 2015.

The Natalie Cole concert last December with my parents. You and Dad dropped Mom and me off while you frantically found a parking spot and then ran to make it into the concert. Dad got so pissed at having to be rushed (our fault) and how it was snowing so badly that day.
You kept asking questions about Dad’s family as we drove home. I was so grateful to see you take such an interest. You were always so good that way.
That day you wore a black coat of Chris’. I loved that coat on you. I also loved you in a suit and tie. I think that day you wore your blue and white-striped shirt with your blue tie and gray pants with the cuffs at the bottom. Black belt and shoes. I picked out that black belt. Banana Republic.

We always talked about what we were going to be like as parents. I wanted to avoid sex talks and you were all for being open and honest. It’s not like you wanted to initiate conversations, but you were a firm believer in being upfront with your kids. I felt the same way, but as I always told you, I guess I just didn’t want to make all that a bigger deal than it needed to be. It’s just one aspect of life…it’s not everything.

You’d get things stuck in your top front teeth and every time I’d tell you something was there you’d freak out. I thought it was cute and funny. You had the best teeth and smile.

Dave Matthews’ “Dreamgirl” song. You’d sing that to me all the time.

That’s it for now.

For the rest of my days I pray the memories will keep comin’. For right now they inevitably do as every tiny thing I look at incites a story of you, of us.
I love you and treasure these memories.