Lev was fluent in Spanish, after going to school abroad from kindergarten through fourth grade. He was so dark, and fluent that people would often ask us whose kid he was. When we moved back to the States, he went to a bilingual school, where he learned a gringo accent. At first we thought he was joking, then we realized he really did acquire the accent of the non-native speakers. We tried to keep the Spanish up at dinner time, as family, but found it hard to follow through with. We just kept forgetting.
Freshman year Lev took Spanish four.There, he regained his fluency, and made Latino friends. But, he really wanted to take German next. It is what Zay was taking, and it would be good for going to Europe. Our school doesn't offer German, so he settled for French. He got it in his mind he wanted to take French two, with his background in Spanish and ability with languages he thought he could do it. He met with the teacher and got workbooks and a DVD to study with over the summer. He found the DVD hard to start with, so we went to Barnes and Noble and picked up a learning French CD to start with on our trip.
We played it in the car on the way to Jasper and Banff. The whole family was learning French, much to Jaal's dismay. (He found headphones with his iPod useful during our French sessions.) We would listen, and all repeat the French poorly in our bad accents. We laughed at ourselves as we went.
Before we left on our trip I found a French camp near us and enrolled Lev. It was in the San Juan Islands, and although quite pricey, decided to enroll him. It was medieval themed, with morning French lessons from French counselors. He was totally psyched. He was set to go mid August for two weeks, after our Canada camping trip, the visit with relatives on the East Coast, and his time with Zay. Is was set to be a great summer for him, and he was really looking forward to it.
He had a future. He thought French would be fun to learn, and it would help him if he went to college in Switzerland, with Zay learning German and his learning French, they would be set. He had plans.
And, it was taken from him. French, for us, represents the future that was stolen from him. The dreams and aspirations that have failed.
I think a lot about his future, about how much of our lives as parents revolve around planning for their future, imagining what they will do next, and setting them up for success in life. That there will be no future, and that the past needs to be re-written in my mind to accommodate this new, horrible reality, is often more than I can bear. So I take it day by day. I don't want a future without him, yet that is what I have, and it doesn't have to be miserable. Not always, not forever, but for now, I am happy with miserable, with sad, with distraught. It seems good, appropriate.
People are "proud" of me when I appear to be doing well, but I am still ashamed of myself and more satisfied when I stay in bed and weep.
Rebecca
