7-8 months old

Well the bustle of the holiday has calmed and there's been some time to scan a few pictures.  They're of poor quality but after a little editing they're viewable.

At 7 months helping Mom pick up in the kitchen.

Happy Boy, 7 months

Dressed up like a little man for his first dinner out with Mom and Dad

8 months and he's so delighted to be able to crawl away from the Paparazzi.

More cute poses at 5 to 6 months old

Vito at about 5 months old being propped up after breakfast to ward off any stomach "upsets".  His tummy was very sensitive.  When Vito was a couple months old his Dad and I had a wedding to go to.  Nick, already dressed up in his suit, agreed to give Vito a bottle while I got ready.  Every thing went well until it was time to burp him.  In one projectile burp the whole bottle was spit up on the shoulder of his Dad's new suit.

Chewing on my Rubik cube key chain.

Looking so adorable!

Bath time at 6 months, 1984

Mmmm, yum, plastic...

 

     Vito loved bath time!  These pictures originally weren't very good, dark and fuzzy.  Last year for Christmas Scott got me the Corel photo editor and I used that program to fix them up a little.  Much better.

Silly Boy

I was thinking about this picture today but wasn't sure where I'd put it.  With Scott's help I was able to find it.  Vito loved being silly as this picture captures so well.  Vito's father gave us this picture, it was taken at Nick's wedding reception.  I'm told that's a mushroom in his mouth.

Vito circa 1992

Happy Thanksgiving!

Veteran's Day and 9 years

Lynn and Vito making snow forts, winter 96-97

     It's been 9 years today since we lost Vito.  As I write the tears inevitably come and I think about how different this day is from the one 9 years past.  It was a Sunday back then.  Our usual Sunday ritual is Scott walks to the store to get the paper while I make coffee.  When he comes back home we sort the paper together, his pile, my pile and the recycle pile.  Then we drink our coffee and read the paper.  Nine years ago we were deep in grief.  Scott did manage to go buy the paper and we sorted it to keep ourselves busy.  When we tried to read it we couldn't.  For weeks after that I couldn't read the Sunday paper.  I would go through the motions but nothing sank in.  Still, even now, reading the Sunday paper reminds me of that day, the day I couldn't read it.


     Today, November 11th, 2010, was very different from November 11th, 2001.  I started putting paneling up in our closet, did the laundry and other household chores, cooked dinner and only cried a little.  The heavy weight of grief has lightened.  I can still feel those scars that came from carrying all that weight.  They're tight, stiff and yet frail, but I can breathe and smile and carry on a bit easier now.  I miss him deeply.  I love him.  He made me a better person, a better Mom.  He taught me lessons no one else could.  I'm forever grateful and indebted to him, my son, Vito.

Baseball and Baby Bump

Vito at 6 weeks

So cute and happy, no date on the pic, 2-3 months I believe

I had Nick snap this pic just before we went to the hospital.  I'm in active labor and wearing the only clothes that would fit me for the past week.   We had just gotten home from my in-laws whose friends were visiting with their new baby.  I held the tiny newborn in my arms gazing at her in awe and aching for my baby to hurry up and arrive.  Less than 2 hours later that night my water broke.

1984 3-4 Months old

Wow, too early in the morning for flash bulbs.

Getting a lift from Dad and loving it.

"If heaven's all we want it to be...Send your prayers to me..care of 1983" ~John Mayer

Vito, one day old, October, 1983

Vito and Mike, December 1986

 For some time I thought this blog had come to it's natural conclusion but recently I've had a change of heart.  There are still some pictures around that haven't made the blog yet and some memories unwritten.  My perfectionist self tried to dissuade me from continuing with the argument that the new posts would be out of order.  My more forgiving self said "So what", the goal of the blog is remembering, not perfection.

So here's some pics of Vito and his Uncle Mike in the tub at my Mom's house.  I promised Mike I wouldn't embarrass him on this blog so I've done some cropping.

Having fun!  "Check out our bubble hats!"

Still having fun.

Oh, that's not nice.

Happy Birthday Vito! Love, Mom and Scott

Vito, born: October 1, 1983 died: November 11, 2001

The week before Vito died he was working out of town in Ithaca. He and his coworkers went down there to lay some tile. They stayed in a hotel all week and I really missed him. By the time he got home on Friday it was late and Scott and I had already gone to bed. Scott went downstairs to see him but I was tired and stayed in bed. On Saturday I got up at 5 am to go to work. Naturally Vito was still asleep and his door was shut. I was wishing I had gotten up the night before to visit with him.



I called home at lunch and Vito answered the phone. We talked for awhile. I told him his Dad had called for him. He told me about the job and how there were problems with mismatching tiles but otherwise the week had gone well. When I got home from work he'd already left the house. He left no word on where he was, or when he would be coming home. That was an issue we were working on. I was able to piece together the events of his last day by the accounts of others.


After lunch on Saturday he went over to his Dad's house and hung out with him for awhile. He left his Dad's and picked up his friend Jimmy and they went to Mojos for dinner. Afterwards the two of them went to their friend Tyrone's house and hung out there the rest of the evening.


Tyrone's Mom, Claudette, is very nice. After Vito died she brought over a plant and gave us an account of what the boys did that night. She was there, crocheting, as the boys played games, snacked, teased each other and laughed, a lot. She said she even joined in on the teasing when Vito used her bathroom and needed to spray, what seemed to be, a whole can of deodorizer.


About 1am Sunday morning Vito and Jimmy left to go home. Vito was driving his station wagon. It had rained all day so the roads were wet and the temperature had dropped to below freezing. He came to a curve in a section of the road that a family in the area told us is notoriously slippery. He lost control of the car and it apparently slid sideways. The car went on to the shoulder of the road and struck a tree on the drivers side.



 
At 4am that Sunday morning I was wide awake. I hadn't been sleeping well for months so it was nothing new. I went downstairs, looked out the window and, to my dismay, didn't see Vito's car in the driveway. I told myself he probably went to his Dad's house but I was still worried. I went back up to bed feeling very uneasy. At 4:10am I heard footsteps on the porch. I felt a wave of relief that Vito was finally home. Then I heard someone knock. Vito had house keys. Something was wrong. Scott and I threw on our housecoats, ran downstairs and opened the door. There was a Sheriff, 3 policeman and a Chaplain at our door. It was obvious what I was about to hear.

The Sheriff told us that speeding was not a factor in the crash. Vito's toxicology results came back negative for drugs and alcohol. It was just an accident. An accident on a stretch of rural highway notorious for accidents. A crash into a tree full of scars from previous crashes.

We placed a wooden cross bearing Vito's name in front of that tree to honor his memory. We hoped it would also serve as a warning to other drivers. Two years later it was splintered to pieces by another car crash. Luckily that driver survived. 

According to the FHWA (Federal Highway Administration) rural highway fatalities exceed the national average of fatalities despite the fact that fewer actual miles are driven on them. In 2007 even though only 23 percent of the U.S. population lived in rural areas, rural fatal crashes accounted for 57% of all traffic fatalities. Local highway agencies often do not have the resources to address known safety problems on the roads they maintain.