Monday, May 31, 2010
Ty, we really missed you tonight. We thought about all
the good times we've shared together...
You were always a mellow baby. Sure, there was lots of waking up
at night. But once you were fed, you would fall right back to sleep without
fussing. Of course... most of those nights were on our chests! But Mama secretly
loved it and was in no rush to force the crib sleeping. Bath time was our
favorite. You never cried when we bathed you. You were always calm and happy in
the tub, and we know you tried to shoot us with your "golden pistol" on purpose
- and Mama will never forget the three "mustard snakes" that suddenly appeared
in the water. She pulled you out as fast as she could!
The first twenty-four hours after birth, you slept through every
meal. Mama tried and tried to nurse you, but you just kept falling asleep! "Put
in some effort!" she would say to you, but she smiled and loved you for being so
tuckered from your journey. She was just content to hold you against her body
anyway. The best part of nursing was the face you would make a couple months
later when you'd pull off from eating. Mama loved the satisfied look on
your face with your cute, puckered lips, and your fists held tightly over your
head as you stretched. Oh, it made her day!
You smiled most for Mama, but Dad could make you laugh harder
than anyone! He'd attack your chubby neck with his mouth and chomp on you until
you'd release the most beautiful sound in the world - your laughter. If Mama
could have trapped it in a bottle she would have, so she could sleep with it
under her pillow. Then, first thing in the morning and before falling asleep,
she'd have unscrewed the cap to begin and end each day with the most precious
music of your voice.
We loved to sing the "Pizza Hut" song to you, while moving your
arms in funny motions to make you laugh and smile: "A pizza hut, a pizza
hut, KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN and a pizza hut!" Your Aunt Nicole joked once,
"He's going to grow up and not understand why fast food makes him so excited!"
We took you everywhere with us - out to dinner (especially Red
Lobster), the movies, friends' houses, work, law school, a basketball game, salt
lake, Las Vegas, New Jersey... not that we didn't like letting people babysit
you, because Grandpa Rock and Khun Yai loved to do it. But we treasured the
feeling of the three of us being together as a family. We were so proud to have
you with us, and are still proud to call you ours.
At the hospital when we held you in our arms for the last time,
Mama whispered the word, "Taumafai". Cradding you against us, Dad began to sing
the Samoan hymn. Mama chimed in when she knew the words, or hummed when she
forgot. But together, we remembered the ultimate meaning of the song - a song
that brought much strength and comfort to your father on his mission in New
Zealand. A song he sang to your mother on more than one occasion when nothing
else could console her tears. And a song that we cling to in our hearts in the
midst of our crucible.
Taumafai: to try...to endeavor... When the road
gets tough, to keep on persevering. A reliance on Christ and hope for the
future... We can do all things.
You are our life, our light, our guiding star.
We love you, Ty.
Taumafai.
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