My sweet Liam
My sweet, sweet, kind Liam came into this world weighing a healthy 8 pounds, 3 ounces at Anne Arundel Medical Center on June 12, 2009 at approximately 3pm. He rolled over early. He crawled early. He stood and walked early. He ran early. But he didn’t talk as much as Sean did. I remember speaking to our pediatrician, who was also Sean’s doctor, and he said, “Renee. He doesn’t say as much because Sean talks for him.” The doctor was right. Sean, he loved you, his big brother, so much. And he followed you around and wanted to do all of the things you did. Always. Liam would build with Legos and Lincoln Logs for hours, and he loved to be read to. We logged many hours in his rocker reading. He always baked and decorated Christmas cookies with me, even this year. And he loved building and decorating our gingerbread houses. His long eyelashes. Hugs around my knees in the kitchen. Liam loved to swim. He loved the beach. He loved the Great Lakes. When we were in Michigan, I would remind the boys that the lakes are a lot colder than the ocean in Maryland, and Liam didn’t care. He’d stay in there until I made him come out. He would pick up rocks and sticks and leaves and shells and bring them to me, everywhere we went. I am so thankful I kept them all. Liam loved history, especially all things WWII and military history. We visited the National Museum of Air & Space and the Museum of American History at least twice a year (and always at Christmas time). He also loved the National Museum of the United States Army in VA. And I am thankful we got to go one last time this December. He was a two time graduate of Space Camp at the US Space and Rocket Center in Alabama. He learned about leadership, problem solving and forged friendships across the country. This is where his love of collecting playing cards came from. He and his teammates would sit together and play cards in the evenings. We bought unique sets of cards anywhere we traveled. To those friends, I am sorry I do not know you well, but Liam talked of you often and cherished the time shared with you over a mutual passion for space and science. You are loved. I am here for you. Liam loved wildlife and the outdoors, and a place we went together several times a year was Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge in Cambridge. And with that would come a visit to Woolford Country Store. Certain parts of the park offer better chances of spotting eagles, and he would look for them with our binoculars. I think we spotted at least one Bald Eagle each time we went. We loved the peace of the overlook close to the entrance of the park. That will forever be my place with him. The gentle call of an owl during the early morning hours of Monday. The cardinal in our backyard Wednesday. I feel him. And I will look for him everywhere I go. I will cherish how much he would light up when Sean and Callie were together with us. He loved BBQ, our smoker and the grill. This last Mother’s Day, Sean cooked for us on our smoker. Brisket and wings. I can still hear their laughter and the music. The weather was perfect. It was a beautiful day, and I will hold it forever. My helper. My gentle old soul. Always checking on me if I didn’t come right in the house soon enough coming home from work. Always checking on me if he sensed I’d had a challenging day. He was so excited when we got a metal shovel after the snow and ice storm in January. He cleared the rest of the walk in record time. Because it was “satisfying.” He always carved out time to spend with me, even though I know his friends were much more exciting. Friday night homemade pizzas. My movie and popcorn buddy, saying, “What do ya wanna watch?” Hearing, “Love ya, ma!” at school drop off, getting out of the car for practice or a game (even though I was going to see him 5 or 10 minutes later) and always at bedtime. He always told me he loved me. Liam was my hiking buddy. We spent time in Upstate New York the last two summers, enjoying trails and waterfalls. And diners for breakfast. We’d always find them on our roadtrips. I like to keep track of where we’ve visited by taking pictures of diner coffee mugs and adding the location. At the risk of sounding really old, Liam tried to teach me how to use Snapchat, and I could never remember how to just save a picture with a location stamp. While we were in Geneva, NY this summer, he patiently showed me how to do it, again, and then lovingly said, “Now let's practice seeing if you can do it yourself.” Texas Roadhouse. Both of my boys love it, and their rolls. And Liam loved their honey cinnamon butter. A few months ago, we were in ACME together, and you know how kids disappear and come back with what they want while you’re shopping? He discovered they had “THE” Texas Roadhouse butter there, and we had to buy it. We got to see some pretty good concerts together too. Metallica, Pantera. And the 3 of us went to the Blueridge Rock Festival twice. Those were experiences. Ask Sean. Liam loved music, and I think, had incredible taste. I loved when I could hear what he was listening to, and it was something that was also on my playlists or something I listened to in high school or college. Over the last two days, we have shared some music on his playlists. Music has gotten me through so many things in my life, and I know it helps Sean. I hope it helps you too. Liam loved football and hockey, and for better or for worse we are devoted Detroit Lions and Red Wings fans. I am forever grateful for the time spent bonding over games. And hearing the brotherly love exchanged while he and Sean were playing Madden or NHL was always an experience. So Sean, now you are going to need to teach me how to play. Hockey. If love had a smell…it would be hockey gear in your backseat. Or in your house. It’s terrible. Absolutely terrible. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Hockey connected us to incredible friendships, teammates and experiences. It is the family we chose, and the family that loved us back. And the family that has carried us. I remember tying Liam’s skates for the very first time at our rink in Easton. Teaching him how to skate. Being elated when he could put on his own gear and tie his own skates. If you know, you know. It is life changing. I will be forever grateful for the last two tournaments we had with our Icehawks family. Liam’s favorite memory from Raleigh (and mine) was when he checked someone during the last game, which had gone completely sideways, right in front of his bench. Coach Kerry cheered. And coach Kerry was ejected. And coach Kerry was suspended. And coach AnDrew was suspended. It was worth it. His last game ever was in Frederick the same day that the US men won a gold medal. I have a picture of them all after the playoffs were over that day, and I will treasure it forever. To Liam’s Icehawks, QA and HAVOC tournament team teammates, thank you for loving my sweet boy. And thank you for being the most incredible group of young people a parent could ask for. You have lost so much and been through more than anyone should. I have to believe that my brother and my dad were there to embrace my sweet boy, along with Grady, Benedict, Blake and Coach Dave. They have a line and a defensive pair, and Coach Dave and my dad are coaching. Or arguing over who’s coaching. But they also need a goalie. They’ll figure it out. Coach Paul, Coach Brian, Coach Todd, Coach AnDrew, Coach John, Coach Gavin, Coach Jason, Coach Jeff, Coach Kerry, Coach Matt, Coach Clark, Coach Theo, Coach Joey and Coach Dave, thank you for helping to instill in my sweet boy the importance of sportsmanship. You helped shape the young man he became. To the hockey moms and dads, thank you for loving Liam like your own son. To all of the adults, who coached or taught Liam or touched his life in some way, thank you for loving him. His smile. His sense of humor. His heart. His kindness. Coach Mooney, Coach Graeff and Coach Sutton, you are the reason he wanted to play football. I cannot thank you enough for the experience he had with you and his team - Brian, Elijah, Ryan, Drew - too many teammates to name. He loves you all. I will still be in the stands on Friday nights, as much as I am able to manage, cheering for the team. Mr. Woodward, Liam adored you and your class. What you covered each day was a frequent topic of conversation during dinner. Know he loves you, and his curiosity will guide your discussions still. He was kind, and he had such a bright, bright future. He was so loved. He is so loved. I feel it. We feel it. To all of the young people here–Liam’s friends and teammates. I know you are hurting. I know you have questions that will never be answered. We all do. As an educator, and a coach, what you are going through adds another layer to the pain of losing my sweet boy. Your moms and dads know how to get in touch with me if you ever want to talk, look at pictures or just sit in silence. Please know he loved you, and he loves you still. Do good things. Be kind. Help. Be the friend my Liam was. What amazing things you can and will do with your lives. And I want to see it all. Some people believe that our children choose us. To my sweet, sweet boy, the 16 years, 8 months and 15 days I had with you on earth as your mother were a gift. You will always be my baby. I will carry you always. Thank you for choosing me to be your mama. Your final gift was that of healing and life for other people. You made the decision to become an organ donor when we went for your permit last spring. No hesitation. What a gift you were and will continue to be for every life you touched. Remember what I would say to you when I would tuck you in - “I love you to the moon and back, and more than all the starts. That’s way far away, and a whole, whole lot. Always and forever.” I will look for you everywhere. There was before, and there is after. As we leave today, and we begin this journey, listen for the owls, listen to the music and look for the eagles. I ache for my baby, and these things will have to carry me. Please hear these words that were spoken by Robin Williams in the movie “Jack” when you think of my sweet Liam. “Please, don't worry so much. Because in the end, none of us have very long on this Earth. Life is fleeting. And if you're ever distressed, cast your eyes to the summer sky when the stars are strung across the velvety night. And when a shooting star streaks through the blackness, turning night into day... make a wish and think of me. And make your life spectacular.” Thank you for loving my sweet boy.
