Happy 8th birthday Vincent. You have the world in the palm of your hand with your compassionate heart, brilliant mind, quick wit and athletic super powers. You are fire and ice and everything nice. I love you, whole heart, and am so honored to be your Mommy!

Happy 2nd Birthday, Leo! You came into the world on your own time, slowly and then all at once. This cadence has set the rhythm for how you tackle every milestone and every adventure. You bring unconditional love, warmth and tenderness to those you love, have the very best dinosaur roar, idolize your big brothers, remain fascinated with Adeline, and want to be a worker guy like Daddy. And when you yell for Mama...well, I’ll always come running. Love you, whole heart, our sweet and tender, wild one! 

Happy 11th birthday, amazing Jack. It was a day full of baseball and basketball, just as you like it, and you were a rock star in both, as always. Your gift of remaining humble, thoughtful, ambitious, spectacular and brilliantly kind hearted, to Everyone and in Everything continues to leave us speechless ❤️Keep forging the way as first born, as only you can, showing us all how to love whole heartedly and be ALL IN in everything we do. Always in awe of you my sweet boy ❤️ 11 years since you doubled my heart and showed me the power of unconditional motherly love.

Dear Adeline, my beautiful, sweet girl. You are 1 today. From the beginning of you, you've been our surprise, leaving us awestruck and grateful. You were adamant and bold in your entry to the world, and determined in every emotion you've shown ever since in this relentlessly fast year. You are Lovely. Spectacular. Bonded. Magical. Graceful. Stunning. You are adored by your brotherly super heroes, delighted by music, full of laughter, fiercely skeptical of the unfamiliar and soothed by closeness. You sleep in Daddy's arms, spark conversation in mine and bring light to every room. I carried you with me in heart and mind for so long, and remain awestruck by the power of your presence in our family, and on my heart. I always will be. Continue to forge your bold path, my beautiful girl. We are all here by your side, ridiculously loving you, as we watch you grow. My whole heart, Mommy 

xoxoxo

Vincent is 8!

Vincent came into the world on a snowy day, February 21, 2011.  He came on his own terms, slow and steady, peaceful and calm. It’s snowed almost every year either on or very close to his birthday.  I find a peace in that, for like the snow, Vincent brings a calm and serene feeling to anyone, anywhere, but can be treacherous at a moment’s notice if he feels it’s warranted.  He’s fire and ice, and everything nice.  He’s eight today, knows what he loves, knows who he loves, without a doubt, without hesitation.  And to be loved by Vincent, well, we should all be so lucky.

Let’s paint a more vivid picture of this fiery boy.  Yesterday he will eat a plate full of chicken nuggets as if they were the most delicious food ever served on the planet.  “Mom, I love this chicken.” Today, due to one speck of black from the oven, sitting in one corner, of one nugget, the same exact chicken is disgusting, not worthy of being eaten, banished from the table.  “Mom, I hate this chicken.” Try a parent standoff with said nugget, threatening no dessert, no bike, no more food…ever, should his plate not be cleaned.  Explain it’s the same chicken from yesterday, same package even. Useless. He wins every time. He’s won since birth, causing me to buy out the bottle aisle of the store, seeking the one he’d finally use.  He starved for days when I went back to work until I got it right.  Vincent has his own terms. He knows what he loves, without a doubt, without hesitation.

Vincent is an intense athlete, naturally gifted with hand eye coordination that can sometimes make him seem like a super hero for someone so young.  Take him to any practice, baseball, hockey, soccer, basketball, he’s on the top of his game, in all the right gear and footwear, making moves and crushing it.  “Mom, I love this sport.” Take him to the very next practice.  He hates it.  It’s a boycott.  I’m on the sidelines negotiating as if world peace depends on it, trying to get him back out there.  The uniform isn't right.  The shoes hurt. “Mom, I never said I wanted to do this sport.  I hate it.“  The next week, he’s back to crushing it and asking for more gear and shoes to support his new found favorite sport.  Vincent has his own terms. He knows what he loves, without a doubt, without hesitation.

Vincent is a natural caretaker and nurturer, and has a strong sense of comradery with friends, family and his siblings. He leaves notes for Mark and I around the house, thoughtful messages reminding us to “have a great day back at work” after a weekend, or “I hope Adeline slept, so you got some sleep too.”  The thoughtful gestures take our breath away. He begs to go Christmas shopping for the family and picks out personal gifts for his siblings and Mimi and Pop.  Vincent wanted to share a room with his younger brother Leo months before Adeline arrived.  I resisted. I should have known better.  Vincent has taken on Leo’s morning routine with love and compassion.  They will chat, watch movies on the Ipad and busy each other for hours.  My heart exploded when I walked in the other day and saw Leo’s outfit laid out perfectly on the floor, a diaper and wipes placed next to them.  He looked at me and said, “I laid out everything you’ll need to get Leo ready for the day, Mommy.”  He is Jack’s biggest fan.  He is a best friend to as many as will take him.  He runs to Adeline when she is crying.  He still loves for me to sit with him to hang out and chat while he takes a long bath.  He loves to snuggle. He's fire and ice, and everything nice.  

My dear, sweet Vincent, Happy 8^th Birthday.  You got the gift of a peaceful and calm snow day right  before your big day this year. You are perfect just the way you are and loved beyond measure.  Here’s to another year ahead, on your terms, slow and steady, peaceful and calm.  I love you to infinity and beyond, in every parallel dimension, in all of the wizarding world, and to the moon and back. You are fire and ice, and everything nice. You know what you love, know who you love, without a doubt, without hesitation.  And to be loved by you, well, we should all be so lucky.  Whole heart, Mommy.

Anne

On the evening of June 5th, in the corner of the world in which I was seated for the moment, the sunset was preceded by a rainbow.  It wasn’t raining where I was, and it was barely sunny at all for that matter.  I remember thinking, “How odd for us to be seeing a rainbow tonight.”  A rainbow is defined in several ways, including a bow of prismatic light in the heavens opposite the sun, a visionary goal, a diverse membership, a multi-colored arrangement.  This particular rainbow in the sky wasn’t a large rainbow, lighting up the entire sky.  Rather, it was a humble, perfect half rainbow.  A rainbow that seemed to whisper, “To be continued…”  A rainbow that left an unfinished chapter. A rainbow aglow with pink. 

On June 6th, those of us gathered in this room, had our breathes taken away by the passing of the most incredible, wise, angelic, stoic, kind, courageous, Anne Montgomery-Ruohonen.  What that means to each of us can’t be told by anyone except the storytellers, our individual hearts and minds, the true keepers of the memories and bonds we had with Anne.  I’ve never known a woman like this.  Her stories are not typical.  The people around her glowing because they carry a piece of her.  Lives altered because of her presence in them.  

She was a savior in the darkest hours, a guiding light when decisions were hard, a bringer of joy to her family at all times, a brilliant business partner, a maker of memories for her adored grandchildren, a humble spirit who could seamlessly blend in with the scenery when desired, and demand the rooms attention effortlessly when required.  She had superpowers.  She was an earthly Queen.  She was Granny.  She was pure magic. 

For me, the storytellers in my life’s chapter with Anne, began spreading Anne’s spirit long before she passed, and before I knew her. My first memories of conversations with Maggie, Sean, Lauren, Rhianna & Scott, all included Anne.  It was days after we moved, undoubtedly with Anne’s divine guiding hand, from living across the street from Maggie and her family, to living across the street from Sean, Scott and their families, that I first saw her.  Her pink glow exited the light blue Chrysler mini-van gracefully,  with her Skip at her side, and she was greeted with a flurry of small grandchildren arms and hands wrapped around her tiny frame.   Ah, that is Granny, I thought. I couldn’t wait to meet her. 

From here, we started the dance of connection.  She looked at me, as she looked at each of you, read my soul and connected in a raw way that analyzed my mind, understood where to meet me in conversation, and knew the type of guidance I needed at just the right time.  Our conversations were often rushed, interrupted hundreds of times by tiny voices in need, but always complete.  I certainly can’t pretend that our connection was unique, as I believe Anne connected with everyone she knew in the same exact way.  To know her, to be loved by her, was to benefit from her magic. It was only one of her many superpowers.

When pregnant with Leo, Anne knew I was carrying a son, before anyone else.  Anne knew I was carrying a baby girl now, before anyone else.  Anne told me in one my weakest moments (which I’m very good at hiding, by the way) to remember to take some time for myself, that Mom needs breaks too.  She stared right at me with that, “You aren’t fooling me.  I see you” look.  I listened. 

She opened up her homes and heart to our family, shared her love for the beach with us, created some of the best summer memories in recent years with us. We chatted endlessly in lawn chairs, on the Easkey Lane she had brought us to, about entrepreneurial dreams, real estate strategies, motherhood, raising sons, marriage, education, what is important in life, and how fleeting it can be.  She took me, my husband, and our children into her divine realm, she brought us to her children before she was gone, because she knew we all needed each other then, and would make memories in this beautiful life after she was gone. 

I couldn’t have looked up to Anne more, I couldn’t have had enough conversations with her, I couldn’t ever get enough of Anne’s glow.  She was an earthly angel and to me, to each of us, in our stories, now lives her spirit.   The piece I hold is a small bit of what she bestowed on this Earth while she was here.  

I will never know a woman like this again.  Will any of us? The people around her will always be glowing because they carry a piece of her.  Our lives have all been altered because of her presence in them.  

The challenge is now ours as we work to adjust our sails and our connections to feel the work she will continue to do in each of our lives. 

She will continue to be our savior in the darkest hours, a guiding light when decisions are hard, a bringer of joy to her family at all times, a brilliant business partner, a maker of memories for her adored grandchildren, a humble spirit who will seamlessly blend in with the scenery when desired and demand the rooms attention effortlessly when required.  

Anne, just as your perfect, humble half rainbow showed us on the night of your last Earthly sunset, your light has left our eyes, but your work will continue.  Your strength was dim, your heart weary from an unjust fight, but your soul is now afire with the freeing of pain and the power of divine intervention.  

We love you Granny.  As you told me, I now whisper to you, “Rest and recharge. You need a break too.” We will be all here awaiting your magic, divine intervention and superpowers. 

I love you,

Courtney