Yesterday, Danielle brought an astute observation to my attention. Although Erik does nearly all the “talking” when he shares his insight, what do we really know about him as a being? Clearly, some of his qualities shine through his actions and his words, but there is so much more to this complex spirit than meets the eye. As a mother, I know Erik well: every gift, every imperfection, every nook and cranny of his very soul. Only he knows himself better than me.

As a child, Erik had a keen eye for beauty. He adored women and was not afraid to tell them how beautiful their hair or eyes or dress was. His love for the female spirit was so deep, he proposed marriage to several teachers in preschool. Whenever he walked with his classmates, he’d get distracted by every flower, every insect, every weed, and would stoop to admire these things, much to the dismay of his teachers.

Erik also adored all things macho. He loved military garb and paraphernalia. He loved motorcycles, motocross, motor anything. He enjoyed working on engines, fixing his friend’s cars, installing stereo systems and lift kits for them. He was truly a man’s man.

Erik longed to participate in all the sports his father engaged in: motorcycle racing, motocross, slalom skiing and other activities that caused me,  as a mother and wife, to close my eyes and cringe. But he was clumsy like me, and Rune is a very protective father, so Erik never did get to participate in all of those death-defying endeavors to the extent that he wanted. How ironic. I think his clumsiness is a sign that, like me, Erik is more comfortable in spirit than in the physical.

As masculine as Erik was, he was also a sensitive boy. He instinctively knew when people needed a hug or a kind word of encouragement. Even as young as 9 months old, he would pat our backs to comfort us when we held him in our arms to provide him with comfort!

Erik never wanted to upset anyone. I remember one day when he was around two or three years old, I brought him home from the pediatrician’s office, thighs and arms littered with bandaids from immunizations and blood tests. It had been a tough afternoon for the little guy. But when his father asked how he was, Erik answered with smile on his tear stained face, “I have a good time.”

As he grew up, Erik’s charm and charisma only blossomed more. Oh, and that smile, that laugh could light up a room. He never knew a stranger and would talk the ear off of anyone he met. As much as he could talk about his life, he was even better at asking about theirs. Erik was a master at listening to others with great patience and compassion. And he reached out to those he felt were struggling like him. I can’t begin to count the number of “strays” he brought home for Mama’s cooking and the nurturing companionship of our family.

Erik’s sense of play was infectious. He loved being silly, playing pranks, and crafting wonderful jokes for all to enjoy. None of these were mean-spirited. They were all loving and endearing.

Erik had noble priorities compared to many of his peers in our socioeconomic class. He was far from spoiled and was grateful for everything he had and often said so. He loved to share, to give to others. What he cared the most about was family and friends. Erik was never a petty person with false pride. He had a big heart and soul and was quick to apologize sincerely when he said or did something hurtful, even to his siblings.

All of this doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of the being that is Erik. He had his imperfections, like we all do, but they were few and insignificant. I could go on for pages and pages, but writing this reminds me of why I miss him so much, why my grief is so deep and relentless, and why I sometimes long to be with him. So I think I’ll stop now.