The Brotherhood

Some of the memories I have from the days of my youth seem rather odd to me ... not the memories themselves, but the fact that I remember every single detail of some pretty inconsequential events and yet for the life of me can't remember the specifics about some of the most life-altering ones. For example, I don't remember much at all about my dad's funeral service, but I remember very well the times I tossed firewood off the back of his truck to him so he could stack it on the wood racks under the shed. If I close my eyes, I can't picture the church on the day of his funeral or who was there or who I sat with or what the minister said. But if I close my eyes and think about tossing the firewood ... I can see the green of Daddy's truck and recall the smell of the wood and picture the gloves and overalls we wore and recall the way Daddy would take out a handkerchief and wipe the sweat from his brow as we worked. While I'm sure that my lack of being able to remember certain events in detail may have some deep psychological root or meaning, it may also simply mean that I'm getting old and just can't remember as well as I used to. Within the group of memories that seem to have no real significance or philosophical truth resides one about a basketball ... a red, white and blue basketball.

Daddy was forever building things, and one of the things he built was a basketball goal for me. It wasn't one of the fancy ones that most kids have nowadays ... Daddy made it from some old pipes that he welded together and a piece of wood that he cut and painted for the backboard. The only thing he bought from a store was the hoop and the net, and could he have come up with a way to have created those, I'm sure he would have. I remember the day that Daddy installed the goal at the end of the long driveway that went from the street down to the detached garage ... I was beyond excited to have my very own goal where I could hone my basketball skills. When he was finished, Daddy had a twinkle in his eye as he told me to go check the front seat of his truck. My excitement shifted into overdrive when I saw the basketball ... a red, white and blue basketball ... just like the Harlem Globetrotters used to play with ... a real leather basketball, too, not a cheap rubber one ... a red, white and blue real leather basketball. Daddy and I played a game of one-on-one that evening, and I totally let him win ... seemed like the right thing to do after how hard he worked to make the goal for me and bought me such an awesome basketball. I remember every single detail of that day ... every single one, friends.

I had a wonderful day yesterday loving on C.J. ... she is a precious little girl ... beautiful, happy, and a genius of course. Matt grilled steaks and chicken for lunch, and we spent most of the afternoon hanging out around the pool. I had picked up Brad and Shelby on my way to Manhattan, and I enjoyed listening to my sons laugh and talk and enjoy their time together. Several times throughout the day, my eyes would well with tears and a lump would form in my throat, but thankfully, I was able to hold it together for most of the day. For all the sentimental feelings that flooded my heart yesterday, however, it was what happened when we returned to Matt and Becca's after dinner that touched me to the core of my soul. Matt and Becca have lived for the last few years in an apartment over the garage of the home of the gentleman who was the owner of the apartment building they moved into when they first got married. He quickly grew to consider Matt and Becca as family, and when his garage apartment became available, he offered it to them and even helped them move. Four of the man's grandchildren live in the house right next door, and Grandpa made sure to have a basketball goal at the side of his driveway so the kids could shoot hoops whenever they wanted. As we got out of the car when we got back to Matt and Becca's, Brad said, "I want to play basketball." Matt raised the goal to big boy height, and Brad, Matt and Shelby began to shoot baskets. It's really hot in Kansas right now, and after a few minutes, Becca, C.J., Shelby and I went inside and watched Matt and Brad through a large window in their living room that gave us a perfect view of the boys as they played.

Needless to say, it was a short hop from watching my adult sons playing basketball yesterday to remembering the two of them and their sister playing basketball on our driveway so many years ago. (And by the way, Meghann could always whoop up on her brothers in basketball ... always.) As I watched them, I realized they weren't just goofing around, they were competing ... each one trying his best to steal the ball from the other, to block shots, to make baskets, to win. My heart was heavy as I acknowledged deep within that it will be a long time ... and that I may indeed never see my sons playing basketball together again. But as I gazed at them, I realized something far more important ... something that had nothing at all to do with basketball and everything to do with them being brothers. Matt and Brad have gone through some rocky times over the years, as did Meghann and her brothers ... so rocky that I feared the three of them would never find their way back together. I remember that time well, and I remember how much it hurt my heart. And ... and ... and ... I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me that my children are now close once again.

For all the times I've felt like a failure as a mom, yesterday was one time when I felt like maybe I at least did a few things right along the way. Thursday, we will all gather together for lunch one last time to say our goodbyes before Matt, Becca and C.J. move to Canada, meeting in the town where Brad lives because he has to work later in the afternoon. My little family will all be together ... all six young adults and my baby granddaughter. I'm sure there will be laughter ... I'm sure there will be tears ... I'm sure there will be love.

I want you to know, kiddos, that your presence in my life is the sweetest thing I've ever known ... I'm proud of all of you, of who you are and who you are becoming. For all the changes that will come your way in life, one thing will never change ... my love for each one of you. Here's to basketball games and fishing in Colorado and peeing on the tree in Granny's front yard and watching Dawson's Creek and Survivor and Gilmore Girls and outings with Gramma Sherri and singed hair from lighting the grill and sneaking out bedroom windows and driver's license tests and cleaning at church and ski trips and 19-year-old smelly dogs and playing games at Annie's house and going to midnight movies and eating way too much pizza ... here's to the three most amazing people I've ever known ... I love you more than words can ever tell.