Our ever shining bright light in a very bleak week. How can you not smile when he looks at you like this? I took him outside in the rain and we danced. Oh yes, we danced. And splashed. And laaauugghed. Sometimes all you need is a little Luka Love.
x’s and o’s sweet boy.
Today.
We woke to meet Nathan and Sabrena for coffee. Nathan got your ring back from the jeweler and you would love it. It’s shiny and beautiful and he’s so proud to wear it. He looked broken. Sad. Worn. He went to call you today like he has done every day for all of his life. Only he had to stop because you are no longer there to answer the questions he already knows the answer to. That broke me apart into a million pieces all over again. Mom and I realized we were so lost in our own grief that we missed the fact that your son’s heart is breaking because he no longer has his father, his mentor, his golfing partner, his best friend. It seems every single day we are reminded of just how incredibly large the void is. In only continues to grow and there are days I fear it will engulf all of us and never let us go. I realize that everyone’s parents will leave this earth some day. It is a fact of life and we are not the first family to go through this. But it’s YOU. And this is us and we’re completely lost without you…
Tonight.
We hung frames on the wall that we bought today just for your pictures. We hung them above your desk so we could always be reminded that the veil between you and us is really so very thin. We moved the bookshelf from your work office home, where it belongs now. All of your things adorn it – the hat I bought you for Christmas years ago and you never took off, your Big Dog keychain we found in an old cigar box, your CLP golf balls that never got used….All of these things brought us comfort and yet they make the missing more…
Tomorrow.
Mom and I will go to church. We will stop at Starbucks for a coffee just like all of us always used to do. She will be the one driving me to the airport tomorrow… One more step we both have to take in this “new” journey without you. I have to admit I am sad and scared and my head is swirling. I feel close to you here…surrounded by all of your things. I don’t want to leave my Mama, but we both know we need to and have to do this. Tomorrow we will be adjusting to another “new normal” as we have done every day since you left. Tomorrow, I will still be your “little” girl who is fumbling without you.
These are my thoughts tonight.
And to my beautiful mother for showing me what the word “strength” means. For carrying Nathan and I even when your own pain is so raw and so deep. For STILL putting everyone else above yourself. For holding my hand through this journey and wiping tears I thought would never end. For hugging me until I was ready to let go. For pulling me back when I thought this would all be too much. For crying with me. For continuing on with the best traits of him when your heart is hurting. For being the best mother I could’ve asked for and the only one I would’ve ever wanted. I. LOVE. YOU!
Today was a beautiful day. We went outside to test out Sabrena’s new remote control car she got from Brady. After many failed attempts to find the remote, we settled for a leisurely game of Badminton. However, after wind interference, we decided to lay down in the grass and soak in the sun…right there in the front yard. I’m sure the neighbors thought we were crazy, but we didn’t care. We decided we could hear ocean waves and feel sand between our toes. After much consideration, I chose Trunk Bay as my beach of choice. Sabrena chose Jamaica and Mom chose Hawaii. So there we laid, eyes closed, dreaming we were miles away. Dreaming until I opened my eyes and realized I was home. Home. Where he is everywhere. I see him in his favorite leather chair…me sitting opposite of him…talking into the wee hours of the night after everyone else has gone to bed. I see him in the kitchen cooking. Gourmet meals of course, never anything less…stopping ever other minute to tell a story…animated, jovial, arms flailing about..impersonations…the whole works. Some we had heard a hundred times before…still as funny as the first time we had heard them. I see him pulling into the driveway after a day at the golf course…his car smelling of his cologne and cigars. It is a smell that will forever resonate within me… His golf bag and shoes in the back…with more golf balls than any one person would ever need in one lifetime stashed away…”just in case”…”you never know when you’ll need them.” I see him in his office. I would walk in and he would say, “Heeyyyyyyyy Cowwcciiieeeeee.” No one else ever said it his way. No one else can. He would banter on about press expansions, paper inserts…things way over my head. Sometimes I would listen in boredom having no clue what he was talking about. He was excited nonetheless. I would give anything for just one more minute listening to him in that office. I see him outside on the patio where he and my mother sat most nights sipping wine and eating salmon. We laughed about the time he tipped over backwards in his patio chair. My mother thought he was going to hurt himself, but he rolled out of the chair laughing. He told us, “pretty good for a big guy!” I sat in that chair today and my heart hurt. I see him in the living room decorating our 12 foot Christmas tree. He shopped for months and months looking for the “perfect” ornaments. My mother would say, “Steve…I think that’s enough” and he would say, “Nope. It’s not done yet.” Come Christmas, we had THEE most beautiful Christmas tree I had ever seen… I see him in church..sitting to the right of me. Like he has since I was a little girl. I always sat in between him and my mom…never any other arrangement. He would sing and his voice would boom above everyone else. He had a beautiful beautiful voice. I see him singing the Hallelujah Chorus on Christmas morning. My mom and I would watch contently with smiles on our faces. I see him driving away…the last day I saw him. His last words, “I love you honey.” What more can I ask for? Those are the last words I ever heard from his mouth. It is something that brings me peace. But still. Today my heart is aching. With every beat, it is aching…
His last picture taken August 2nd, 2008.
Steven E. Manthe
February 4th, 1952 – August 16th, 2008
This world is so different to me now. It is quiet, less boisterous, unfair. It has lost its magic; its light lessened. It is irreparable.
So many things left undone…things I need to say, things I need to hear…an aisle I need you to walk me down, babies you would have loved…
Right now we struggle to put one foot in front of the other. It comes in waves…at times it’s calm and peaceful and we’re so happy that you are finally where you yearned to be. At others, it comes crashing down, almost so heavy, we struggle to even come back up for air. It’s simply unfair. The void you left behind is massive. I am empty without my famously loving Big Dog. I need you here…
*We are considerably overwhelmed at the outpouring of love we have received the past few days. So many beautiful people, beautiful words, beautiful stories. I know his reach was far, wide, and deep and words cannot tell you all how much your comfort and support means to us. Do the Big Dog a favor and go hug your loved ones, tell them you love them, pray for them, and hold them close. We are not guaranteed a tomorrow….*
In loving memory of Steven Earl Manthe – until we see you again….
You can read more about him here.
His last picture taken August 2nd, 2008. 
This world is so different to me now. It is quiet, less boisterous, unfair. It has lost its magic; its light lessened. It is irreparable.
