Friday, May 18, 2018

Love you Forever

Andrew has started napping again after 8 months, and I am overjoyed! This means I get a break, and that we are back into a pre-nap reading routine.

The clear favorite is still Richard Scarry's Cars and Trucks and Things That Go, but I introduced him to Love you Forever this week.

Love it or hate it, this book gets a reaction out of people, sort of the like the wonderfully creeptastic "The Giving Tree" which I remember fondly from childhood, even though as an adult the relentless sacrifices of motherhood sometimes make me feel like a chopped up, scooped out, stump of my former self.

I'll never forget reading Love you Forever to Jack as I rocked him in his tiny bedroom in our first home. His crib had made way for a big boy bed, because little sister was on her way in a matter of days. I positioned him on my lap as best I could and kissed his little head and neck, singing and crying my way through the book. I was overcome with the feeling that he was being displaced and with the worry that, despite everyone's assurances, my heart wasn't capable of growing to accommodate a new baby. Everything was about to change, and in a made-up tune I sobbed and squeezed out: "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be."

Jack's cowlick was exactly like the boy's in the book, and while I could never image leaning a ladder up against my married son's window (boundaries, much?) I did want him to know that despite a new little one coming into our home, he'd always be my baby. I wanted to squeeze him a little too tightly and never let him go.

Margaret never got into the book the way Jack and I did. Perhaps it was the male protagonist, the fact that she was what you would call a "busy baby" with less patience for books at that age, or that she, like many people. thought the whole premise was weird, weird, weird. The book got tucked away for a long time.

I wasn't sure what my reaction would be to reading the book again, but there it was on the shelf. Would I cry the way I did with Jack? Would I cry even more, knowing that I never got to hold and cuddle and potentially stalk Jack after he'd barely turned twelve and went to heaven?

I didn't cry, and my made-up tune came right back to me today as I rocked Andrew back and forth, his tummy sticking out under a faded little polo shirt, chubby hands clutching not one but 2 loveys. I wondered if Andrew would bat the book away after a few pages, in favor of one more search for Goldbug, one more colossal smash-up of cars and trucks. But he listened attentively as I rocked and sang.

At one point, he pointed to the boy, now a young man, and said, "He growed up." Yes, he did. That is what I pictured for Jack all those years ago. And that is what I do picture for Andrew and Margaret. "You'll grow up too, Andrew"

One of the most tender things about this book is how the young man says his mom will still be his mom after she dies. He holds her and sings, "As long as I'm living my mommy you'll be." I love that, and it has certainly been true for me these 30 years since my mom went to heaven.

In an instant it becomes clear to me the only thing I'd change about this book, even though I am firmly in the Love you Forever Camp. I'd get rid of the words, "As long as I'm living" because if I've learned one thing in recent years, it's that forever truly means forever, and none of it is limited by whether anyone's body is living and breathing or not.

Love never dies.

15 comments:

Jen said...

Breathtakingly beautiful.

(Though I lean to the creepy camp)

Anonymous said...

I too read this book and wept as I read while holding my son, later sitting next to him in his big boy bed as he prepared to drift off and even later while he read it to me. It was one of our most favorites. Just before he died he was in a book store and saw the book. He took a photo of the cover and texted it to me. My heart filled with so much love to think that my 27 year old son was still that sentimental little boy and that grown up man who knew that photo meant so much more to us than just the cover of a book. I'lll grow old without him to hold my hand but I'll grow old forever being his Mom.

Deborah said...

I totally agree. I never liked the “as long as I’m living” part of the story. On my Ryan’s Head Stone I changed it to “for now and forever, my baby you’ll be” because death does not hold limits on a mother’s love for her child. I love that book. Thanks for sharing.

Anonymous said...

Aw God bless you must have been bitter sweet. I always check your page for some inspiring words to get me through the day. I have just been thinking how my boys are growing up too fast I must read them this book :)

kate said...

What a priceless memory. Thank you for sharing. I am totally in the “thumbs up” camp for the book. It’s just my brand of sappy!

Karen L. said...

Beautiful thoughts!

Anonymous said...

Hugs.

Anonymous said...

I very recently lost my father a bit unexpectedly. It is so true that he will always be my dad, even after he died. I just now am realizing exactly what that means with his birthday and father's day next month. I don't recall having that book when my children were small. I will have to get a copy. Too sweet. I am glad Andrew enjoyed it--very sweet.

Anonymous said...

I'm not sure if you heard the author's reason for the story:
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/the-heartbreaking-story-behind-iconic-childrens-book-love-you-forever_us_573ceb97e4b0aee7b8e8f76f

Molly said...

I always came down on the side of 'unsettling' ... Until (1) as a mom I experienced the weird feeling of time and space seeming meaningless in the face of your love--I think the book gets at the *feeling* of consuming parental love even if it has to get there through allegory rather than realism and (2) I heard the origin of the story, which I believe had its genesis in the author's grief over the stillbirth of his child. The metaphorical\allegorical\mystical version of timeless connection that it presents made much more sense to me through that lens, and I do feel emotional when reading it now.

Annie said...

I’m in the creeped out camp. But what I love about you Anna is that you are so open to seeing the other side of things. This comes across in so much of your writing.

Debby@Just Breathe said...

I'm glad to hear that he is napping. I saw that book a few years ago. I bought one for myself and for my children. I signed them inside and someday when I am gone they will find them. I'm just thinking now that I will have to give my copy to my grandson who is coming in October!!

Anonymous said...

I adored this book. I was never lucky enough to have children of my own but my baby sister is nearly 21 years younger than I am. I always called her my baby and I read this book to her hundreds of time - I even dug it out of storage and gave it to her with her graduation gift, she gave it back to me before I moved to Europe and now I just gave it back to her and her new baby girl.

I can't say for sure, but I can't imagine that anyone loves their own child any more than I love my baby sister and this book really hit home. My sister has aways called me her other mom - even though we both have a great relationship with our mom.

Maybe the As long as I am living includes the spirit living on which is eternal.

Anonymous said...

I received this at my baby shower from a cousin, with a moving note about how she read it to her boy. I hated it initially, as I found it too sad and too creepy. However...my 6 year old son has grown to love it and calls it our special book, so how can I not appreciate it now? We have changed to words to “forever and ever my baby/mommy you’ll be.” And I still go in his room each night and whisper that to him. (But I certainly hope I don’t show up with a ladder in 20 years!)

kristine said...

Aww I love this. Thanks for sharing. My mom passed away 6 months ago and a love between a parent and child is definitely a forever love and death doesn't change this. ❤