Smile

Dear Tommy,

It has been 4 months since you passed.  Four months!  We've tried to stop time by keeping the house exactly how it was.  We still have your lip-prints on our bathroom mirror; on cleaning day we cover it with a big piece of paper so that nobody accidentally wipes it off.  Your shoes and your green jacket are in the living room closet right next to ours where they always were; they are waiting for you for our morning walks outside.  All these things help us feel that everything is all right and that you are still here.

Unfortunately, the rest of the world doesn't follow our household rules.  Time is passing by.  Tree buds are starting to open, we see the signs of spring everywhere, and the world keeps turning.  However, it is still winter for us, and Mamae and Papai want to be frozen in time; we don't want to go anywhere.

Tommy on his birthday

I don't need to tell you how much we miss you.  You already know it.  I also miss seeing Papai's "Tommy smile".  When you were born you brought us a different kind of love and happiness we had never experienced before.  Papai had a beaming smile every time he was with you or thinking about you.  It was the signature "Tommy smile": a mix of joy, pride and sense of fulfillment that only you could provide.  That smile is gone.

I know Papai talks to you at night, usually after I fall asleep.  He asks you to come back and sometimes he talks directly to God asking for a miracle.  However, Papai suspects that even if you had the power to return, maybe you wouldn't.  You are our fearless, adventurous and confident son.  We know you must be very busy exploring Heaven.

We went to the cemetery today.  There were big airplanes and small noisy planes flying over our heads.  We also saw cows on the hills, wild turkeys and deer (eating the fresh flowers visitors had just placed on the grave -- how funny is that?!)  The fact that you loved making animal and airplane sounds made us wonder if they were all signs that you haven't forgotten us.  Even if it happened by chance, it doesn't matter; they still made us smile and think of you.

Eu te amo muito muito muito.
-Mamae

End of a Chapter

Dear Tommy,

A few days ago I called the coroner's office to see if they had made any progress on your autopsy.  They had warned us that it could take months to finalize the case.  It is a long and bureaucratic process.  We heard some families wait almost a year for the final report.  So last Tuesday I called the office but I wasn't expecting to hear anything new.  To my surprise, the lady said that they did have some news.  I froze.  Why did I make the call when Papai was not there with me?  Then she told me what we already knew (or at least suspected).  Cause of death: Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood.  It means that they did not find out the cause of your death.

We had talked to the medical examiner in the past and she warned us they would probably not discover what happened to you.  So I wasn't surprised to hear the news (or the lack thereof).  Still, it was a slap in the face.  More than that, a realization that now it is official.  It made everything more real: you are not here, you are not coming back, and you did die.

I wonder if Papai had a feeling this was coming.  Because last week he had a delicate conversation with your stuffed animals.  We couldn't hide it anymore, so he told them the truth, the reason why you never came back home.  They seemed confused.  Just understand that it takes some time to absorb everything that is happening.  They had so many questions but Papai did not have all the answers.  I'm afraid most of the questions will never be answered.  Curiously, they were not so concerned about the cause of the death itself but mainly why YOU, out of all the people in the world, had to pass that way.  

They all agreed a universal rule has been broken: stuffed animals are not supposed to be orphans.  It has been hard to accept it.  However, they made a promise.  They will love you and celebrate all the memories they have with you everyday of their existence, even if one day another child decides to adopt them.

What happens now?  I don't know, meu amor.  But we will all keep searching for answers.  We will keep looking for you, and we will be always thinking of you.

Eu te amo muito muito muito.
Mamae

Dreams

Dear Tommy, 

On Thanksgiving night, just after we put you down to sleep I started looking up gyms for children.  In December you would have turned 18 months and we would have enrolled you in gymnastics.  You would love all the jumping, bouncing, tumbling and somersaults!  Papai and mamae had so many dreams and plans for you; I had no idea our lives were about to change forever only a couple of hours later.

Everybody knew how active and athletic you were.  Well, pretty athletic for a 17.5 month-old!  Grandpa thought you would be a football player, and that's a huge compliment since he is a serious football fan.  You also enjoyed swimming and were very close to receiving your third Aqua Baby ribbon at swimming school.  We were so proud of you!

Papai and mamae had big hopes when it came to your academic life.  Math, physics, chemistry and biology?  We had you covered!  We could just imagine "Admiral Prof. Dr. Thomas Chinen, MD, PhD, JSD, DDS, CPA, gold medal Olympic swimmer" on your own Wikipedia page!

I have to admit, though, that if your interests at 17.5 months old were any indication of what you would be, you would have become a garbage man or a mailman.  You always wanted to see what was inside the big dumpster and loved throwing things in the trash can, especially the lint from the dryer.  As for your promising career at USPS, remember how we used to pick up the mail everyday around 5pm?  First, you checked the "misdirected mail" box for hidden treasure.  Then we looked for our own mailbox.  I put the key in the lock, lifted you up, and YOU unlocked the little door.  You handed me the letters one by one and then put them back -- one by one! -- in the mailbox and closed the door.  By the third round, my arms were so exhausted I had to end our ritual by locking the mailbox!  Picking up mail was so much fun, wasn't it?  You have no idea how hard it is to do it by myself now.  I often ask Papai to come with me because it is too painful to do it without my little helper.

Tommy at 14 months: he loved getting into the mail box for big packages
 

Tommy, I feel like all our dreams and the future of our perfect little family were taken away from us 3 months ago.  Don't worry, papai and mamae love each other just as always and we love you more than anything in the world.  It's just that now we have a big empty hole in our lives, a hole the size of a Tommy, and nothing nor anybody will ever be able to fill this emptiness in our hearts.

Eu te amo muito muito muito.
-Mamae