mother zucker was in town today, so we spent this morning and afternoon exploring the recesses of the upper east side, an area i had always found illusive and mysterious for the mere fact that it…well…oozes expense. basically, i’m too poor for it. but with my…
P and I took the boys to the Milwaukee Art Museum this weekend to see the Frank Lloyd Wright exhibit there (only through May 15th!), and Sarah’s post brought me right back to it, as FLW designed the Guggenheim.
I’m not typically a fan of anything but the architectural aspect of our MAM, as the regular collection is on the boring (and small) side, but we have some incredible traveling exhibits (like this one) (also, the comic one was great).
Now, I can’t get FLW out of my head though! This summer will be one of visiting his buildings as we make our way around the state (and I am thrilled about this)…
I may have even looked up the FLW architecture school, just in case one of my children ever wants to pursue the field :)
Five days ago, my dad’s BFF simce childhood called my dad, crying. His stepson had killed himself.
Jacob was 25, a recovering drug addict, and living in a halfway house. I used to babysit for him, his siblings, and his step-siblings, but since he was only two years younger than me, he helped me out with the other 5 kids. I let him and his big, adorable eyes stay up late, and he had a crush on me. Once, he asked if I liked guys with spiky dark hair and an earring (gotta love the 90’s). He didn’t realize that I knew he was talking about himself. He was a great big brother and such a sweet, sweet boy.
It’s been years since i’ve seen him, but I can’t wrap my head around the facts: Jacob went on a heroin binge, and came home to take all of his antidepressants, killing himself intentionally.
Jacob’s step father, John, is my unofficial uncle; he lived with us for a bit when i was a kid, following his divorce from his first wife. He rushed over to check out my toilet the very night I called him, 9 months pregnant, to ask about the weird smell in our bathroom. We talked about Jacob then, less than six months ago, about how hard he was working to change his life, about how hard he was fighting.
A year ago, I would have seen my sister, a former addict, in Jacob, but yesterday I saw my sons in every picture at his memorial. He looked more than a little bit like my Jack when he was a baby, and it broke my heart.
His mother hugged me and sobbed while she said my babies are beautiful. She asked if I remembered babysitting for Jacob and I said yes. She asked if he’d been a good boy for me and I said yes, always, he was a dream. I knew that when she looked at her son, she still, even now, saw her firstborn, her baby.
and my heart broke for us all, but mostly for Jacob’s mom.