Today was a special day for a bunch of reasons:

• It brought welcome relief.  My Mom died September 7 and we buried her September 12 (on Emma’s birthday).   So having a FUN, HAPPY thing to do 11days later was fantastic news. I couldn’t wait.
• It brought us together, all 13 of us, which is always so much fun.  We had crackers and dip, fruit and drinks and a grand old time.
• It was the first time we’ve ever taken a boat ride from our dock after 11 years of living at 44 Waterloo Circle. Grammy and I don’t own a boat, so we were excited about actually leaving our house from the water.
•  It gave us a cool new view.  We’ve been looking at the beautiful Piscataqua River from one perspective, but today we went East, up the river, and had a chance to see the beautiful inland waterways of Dover and Durham waterfront.  We went under three bridges over Little Bay, the one they’re using now, the new bridge they’re building and the rusty old one.   You loved walking (sometimes running) up and down and around the boat and crawling along the seating area.  Everyone visited the inside area where they sold candy which I, of course, bought for you guys!
• It gave us an awesome boat.  “The Heritage” is a famous and frequent sight in Portsmouth Harbor.  It brings tourists up and down the river all summer long, into the Fall.  People also use it to visit the Isles of Shoals.  It’s a beautiful wooden boat, a “Deltaville Deadrise” built in 1963.  It was used in Chesapeake Bay (around Washington, D.C.) for oystering and crabbing.
• It gave you souvenirs. Grammy and I bought you comfy sweatshirts and t-shirts that say “Portsmouth Harbor Cruises.” You love ’em.
•  It gave me an awesome ‘total family’ photo which will become my 2012 Christmas card! (see first photo below).
• It gave us great memories.  All of us will remember it – except for Madigan and Jack. Maybe we’ll do it again!

Losing someone you love deeply is one of the hardest things we face as human beings.  One minute they’re physically alive and in our world; the next, they’ve taken their last breath and moved on to a new place in the universe.

When it’s happening, you struggle to deal with it, the experience is emotional, confusing, disturbing, intense – and yes, very sad.

And so it goes with my Mom (your paternal great grandmother) who died Sept. 7 at the age of 89.  She was buried Sept. 12 in Mt. Calvary Cemetery in Somersworth, NH, the city my (childhood) family lived in most of our lives.  She was 89 years old.

Despite living a long life, it’s never easy to say goodbye forever. I was there when she died with my sister and a few relatives and friends. We held hands together and stood around her bed at Bellamy Fields Assisted Living in Dover. She died peacefully on a bright, unusually warm September day.

The past week were hard to get through.  Fortunately the lights of my life – Grammy, your Mom’s and Dad’s and my grandchildren -were close by. You made tough days better, just by being who you are. While you couldn’t understand the concept of dying, you instinctively sensed sadness, things being different and people you love hurting inside.

Rita Blais Beaupre – my Mom – was born in 1923, went to school in Berlin, NH and married my Dad  (Donald J. Beaupre) – your great grandfather – in January 1951. They became parents in 1952 when my sister Francine was born; I came along a year later in 1953.

Mom was an outgoing person who loved life.  When she was younger, she’d drive to Hampton Beach in the summer (over 100 miles away) with her friends to enjoy the largest beach in NH.  She went to New York City with her best friend when she was single, attending Broadway shows and concerts.  She saw Frank Sinatra in the 1940’s when he was at his peak – Sinatra is one of the most famous singers of all time

Mom helped run my Dad’s photography business, BEAU STUDIOS, when they were first married and later worked in the Human Resources department of the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard for most of her adult life (my Dad also worked at the Navy Yard).  She had many friends, was a great Mom, and will be missed forever.  My blog about being 10 years old has a lot of insight about what my young life was like.

You’re  so young!  Ben, while you’re the oldest of the “Samurai Seven,” you’re the oldest at 9 years old.  Emma 7; Camden almost 7; Ainsley 5; Jack, almost 2 and Madigan, a mere one year old.  While words weren’t there, kindness was ever present.  You hugged me, were gentle, loving and created special drawings I’ll keep forever (see below).

You made a very hard time, much, much better. Thank you.  I love you to Pluto and back and am so incredibly lucky you’re in my life.

I took this photo right before you & your family left the beach.   It was in the “golden hour,” of sunlight – my favorite time to take photos of people –  which is about one hour before the sun sets.  You had your PJ’s on and were ready for the ride home.  I’m glad you let me take it!

Happy birthday Ainsley!  On July 20 – your special day – you had a special party “for girls only.”

I couldn’t go (until the very end), so I played outside with Camden and Ben.

Cinderella visited, but I heard you didn’t like her because she wasn’t the “real Cinderella” which you had just seen, of course, at Disney World four months earlier!  There’s no fooling you!  Good thing your cousins and friends were there to play with huh?

Later that afternoon, I was allowed to come in, and we gave you our presents. Your favorite by far was the doll that poops – you couldn’t get enough of the pooping followed by the wiping up!

If it’s so much fun, are you going to start changing Madigan’s diapers?

Happy birthday Ainsley, I love you lots!

Over the past couple years, you and your cousin Molly became very close.

Your relationship certainly evolved… in the early days, like all little kids, you had no idea how to play with each other.  Your differing personalities were sometimes diametrically opposed… sometimes there were clashes, with hurt feelings and crying a consequence of emotional little battles.

But over time, you became more accustomed to each others personalities – Molly became stronger, bolder, believing in herself in times of mini-crisis.  You learned to cooperate more and understand where Molly was coming from.  It’s all part of growing up which actually never ends!

Through it all, your relationship continued to grow.  You enjoy each others company a lot, love playing together and always look forward to the next encounter. Now it’s instant bonding, the two of you escaping as soon as possible to be alone, often upstairs, to act out your own privately imagined worlds.

Inevitably, adventures and experiments rise from your imaginary adventures.

Colored soap all over the bathroom.  Mascara from Grammy’s makeup table covering your faces.  Glitter all over the carpet.  Tissue boxes emptied. And more, plenty more.

Here’s a photo I took of the two of you at the beach this month. It tells a precious story without saying a word.

Today was a big day… you graduated from Bunnies & Blocks!

Hooray! Congratulations!

I can’t believe the time has already come for you to leave pre-school behind…  In September you’ll join Camden at Moharimet School in Madbury where you’ll enter Kindergarten.  How is this possible?

Did you know your class was the last one graduating from Bunnies & Blocks? It’s true … this Fall it will become another school.

You looked so pretty on your big day. You smiled shyly during the ceremony… I think you might have been a little nervous. I can’t blame you… after all you had to face a crowd of eager, supportive parents and grandparents who were all squeezing tightly together… cameras flashing and videos recording.

You sang special songs and every one of your classmates was introduced one by one.

When it was your turn, one of your teachers presented you with a special paper honoring the big day.  Then you stood front and center as we cheered you on and clicked away with our cameras.

I’m so proud of you Ainsley!

I picked you up and held you awhile, as I like to do.  It brings us face-to-face, encouraging an immediacy that makes it easier to talk.  I asked if you thought you’d play baseball or softball, explaining how softball is like baseball but the ball is bigger. You replied…

and softer… and girls play it

I said, maybe you’ll be a swimmer. or a soccer player… you said

I will be a swimming coach

Watching your brother play baseball on a bright Saturday afternoon in Durham, you then chose the top bleacher, which was six feet or so off the ground.

You were squirmy, uninterested in staying still, so on a whim, I held onto your hands and gently let you down to the ground from the high end.

You liked this.

Instead of climbing back up the aluminum bleachers from the lowest rung, you climbed underneath the open bleachers from the back side where I had lowered you.

It wasn’t long before you said

do that again!

with a gleam in your eye.

Back on the top bleacher you figured out a way to get down again by yourself by climbing underneath, placing your sneakered feet onto the aluminum support struts. Up and down you went, two or three times.

Having mastered this, you asked:

Papa can we go to the playground?

 

We ran across the green field to the brightly colored extravaganza system of slides, walkways, jungle gyms, climbing walls, chimes, bridges and ladders that make up today’s playgrounds.  Today’s playgrounds are works of art.

You challenged me to a race:

climb the ladder and I’ll go up the stairs

Hey, that’s not exactly fair.  I raced after you across the bridge, but you were already there, taunting me:

I beat you!

It was no contest.  You’re a fearless mountain goat girl!

you love playing with your cousins when you come over on Sundays!

Look at you go, you’re on a mission!