Death Star

To my son Tommy,

The Death Star has been in many of our conversations lately. You have been watching the Star Wars movies and you decided to ask Santa for the Lego Death Star, the approximately four hundred dollar Lego Death Star. We decided we can ask Santa but there are definitely no promises as Santa has a budget and we don't want to bankrupt Santa so he can't buy important things for others.

Last week at your grandparent's house you found, right before we were leaving, a package of balloons for making balloon animals. Your mom and I were a bit peeved at the timing of the discovery, and said maybe next week we can open them. You weren't happy until your Grandpa Leo suggested that the next week (aka last night) you and he would make a Death Star out of the balloons. It appeased you at the time, so I let it ride, but I wondered how the hell we would pull that off.

You spent the entire week planning and looking forward to this balloon Death Star. Your Grandpa Leo thought about it too and bought some rubber bands to try and help the construction. But after blowing up the first balloon and realizing he couldn't even tie them off with his current hand function, you both looked at me. Sure. Right. I can do this. I once made a balloon dog and a balloon sword, so I am an expert right?

I made the first one, and I thought it was pretty good. Even your mom was impressed with my little globe. You and your grandpa thought it was small, but good for the first test reenactment.

"Reenactment? What reenactment?" I thought to myself. The next thing I know, before I even had a chance to picture my good work, there you and your grandpa are with safety goggles and two sharp forked barbecue tools that you guys called your light saber forks and singing the theme song from the movies. I barely had enough time to plug my ears before you guys re enacted the blowing up of the Death Star. You were both proud of the results and demanded I use every balloon remaining to make the next one for the grand finale.

Not sure if it was because I had to use all of the balloons, or if it was because I knew of its ultimate fate, but the next version (pictured) wasn't as good. It didn't even capture or hold the spherical look that well and looked like the Emperor hired Darth Escher to make the second reincarnation. But it was good enough for the imagination of a five year old and the somewhat twisted sense of humor and entertainment value of a sixty six year old. May the force be with you.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

The Game You Want To Lose

To my son Tommy,

Your Grandpa Leo recently was touting the simple pleasures of life. This morning was the first time he could wash his head since the brain surgery. He said it felt amazing and went on and on about how he missed it so. He was gentle and timid at the washing, but even the little he did brought him such great enjoyment. But not all of his pleasures are as simple and innocent.

Your Grandpa Leo has a couple life insurance policies. One is a whole life with the Knights of Columbus and one is a term life with the military that lasts to age seventy five. He recently, before all this started to happen, considered cancelling the term life policy. Of course now he isn't cancelling it. He looked at me the other day and said, "I feel like calling up these insurance companies and saying 'YOU LOSE #$%^ers!'" I was a bit stunned at first and there was nothing I could say or do but join in his crazy laughter. It is a perverse pleasure as you stare at death's door to know that you "won" at the life insurance game. Definitely not politically correct humor but no one ever accused the Downeys of being very PC. We will take the laughs where we can, especially right now, thank you very much.

Here is hoping that your grandad turns out to be wrong and he lives another nine plus years and ends up "losing" the life insurance game. Here is hoping that all our friends and family end up "losing" this game the right way (through longevity) as well. And finally, here is hoping that all of us can learn to laugh in the face of death the way your Grandpa Leo can.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Special Ride

To my son Tommy,

Well, at least you got a fun ride in the ambulance. When your soon to be a nurse mother decides to call 911, even I panic. Turns out you had croup which caused you to not be able to breath while you had that coughing fit. Fun times!

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Short Update

To my son Tommy,

I don't think I have the strength for a long post with my usual attempts at wit. So here is a quick hit. Still know nothing more about your grandpa than we did yesterday. Nana Jeanne had a mammogram that even made the secretary go "Whoa" and informed your mom that when it comes back cancer officially, just set her up with hospice. Your Great Grandpa Leo seems to have lost function of his one hand and had to have an in home X-ray to make sure it didn't break during the last ambulance ride. Your Grandma Roro has shingles on top of the over abundant other problems she is having. You had a doctor appointment today and have a 101 degree fever and have to stay home from school tomorrow at least. You will spend the day at your Bwama's house because your mother has a twelve hour clinicals day tomorrow and she is worried that I would be missing too much work if I stay home to care for you. And the beat goes on, and the beat goes on.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

There's A Saint For That

To my son Tommy,

There was an old joke about smart phones and tablets. It seemed that no matter what you wanted to do in life, there's an app for that. Need to track calories, there's an app for that. Need to count steps, there's an app for that. Need to learn how to potty train a snail, probably an app for that too.

Well something similar could be said about the Catholic religion, there's a Saint for that. Need to find something lost, there's a Saint for that. Find yourself losing patience, there's a Saint for that. Find out your father/grandfather/husband/brother (or whatever your Grandpa Leo is to all these people who love him) has an aggressive form of brain cancer, there's a Saint for that too.

O great St. Peregrine, you have been called "The Mighty," "The Wonder-Worker," because of the numerous miracles which you have obtained from God for those who have had recourse to you.
For so many years you bore in your own flesh this cancerous disease that destroys the very fibre of our being, and who had recourse to the source of all grace when the power of man could do no more. You were favoured with the vision of Jesus coming down from His Cross to heal your affliction. Ask of God and Our Lady, the cure of the sick whom we entrust to you. Especially Leo Thomas Downey III and all who invoke your aid.
Aided in this way by your powerful intercession, we shall sing to God, now and for all eternity, a song of gratitude for His great goodness and mercy.
Amen.

I wish I could tell you more specifics at this time, but a scheduling snafu had me leave your Grandpa Leo before he went in to see his surgeon. The surgeon had got called back into the operating room and was about two hours late. I thought to myself, if you are going to be late, saving a life or lives in surgery sure is a good excuse. Anyways, I was worried about time and worried about picking you up from school so your grandpa said for me to go. By the time I got the parking (pre)paid and was almost out of the garage, your mom called and said she will make sure you are picked up and to go back with your Grandpa Leo. By the time I got back to your grandpa, the visit was over and he was headed towards the subway in the hospital to make it easier for me to pick him up and get him home. Well, the good thing was I could drive him home and we stopped by to see you let out of school. The bad news is your Grandpa Leo isn't the best at getting all the details told to him, so we got half the story at best. All I got was that it was an aggressive form of cancer (no name) that is specific to the brain (which means it didn't come from somewhere else in the body) and that they were going to go "full court press" on dealing with it, and that he can drive, and, according to the surgeon, when he speaks to the oncologist and they give them a bunch of statistics and numbers and time frames to remember they are never right. I got about twenty questions still unanswered, even some that are beneficial to your grandpa, such as; can he drink? can he stop taking the anti-seizure pill that makes him feel loopy? what about lifting more than ten pounds? etc. Your Grandpa Leo just shrugged and said that those answers would have been good to know. But tomorrow the brain oncologist will be calling and scheduling some appointments for him, so more info to come.

Sincerely with love from your dad,
Leo

Incognito

To my son Tommy,

Had a stranger join us for dinner. Never knew who it was, but he brought with him a much needed laugh.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo

Covet

To my son Tommy,

I have too many material things in my life. You, at the ripe age of five probably do too, but that is more my fault than yours. Your grandmother definitely has too much. When you really think about it, most of us do. Some more than others. One of the hardest things to do in life is to not covet material things. It is a hard lesson to learn and an even harder lesson to live by for yourself and for others, especially with the hoarding tendencies hidden in your genetic line. But this I know...I will never let things get in between me and my love for you. On my tombstone it will not read, "He died with many nice things that he loved" but rather "He loved and was loved and everything else mattered little." You can take every material thing I own, as long as I have love to give and love to receive, I have everything.

Sincerely with love from your dad,

Leo