I stared out my door into a group of close to 200 people, on my deck, around my yard, singing karaoke, and standing at the keg. It was a sea of red and white, of that famous insignia of the pair of socks, and the “B” that is recognizable by even the non sports fans. The Red Sox jerseys, t-shirts, sweatshirts, and hats: everywhere you looked was the tribute. This wasn’t because the Red Sox had just won the world series. This wasn’t just a Red Sox themed party. This tribute was to my husband. This tribute was to honor the memory of a man that lived and breathed the sport of baseball and the Boston Red Sox. This is what you do with your husbands friends and your own friends after you have to bury your him because cancer sucks. You take his two favorite things, beer and the Red Sox, and you have one hell of a kegger where everybody wears Red Sox gear. This is where, even your sweet friends from NY that you haven’t seen in years drive 4 hours to be here for you and stop on their way to buy Red Sox hats that you know they’ll never wear again. This is when one of your husbands friends and his wife who works for team brings bobble heads for everyone to take home, a special bag for each of your children with memorable items from the team, and a legit Jersey that she had made with your last name on the back for everyone to sign with a sharpie so it can forever be a keepsake. This is just what needs to be done when baseball was such a huge part of our lives because of Bobby.

We met in May of 2000. I was all about hockey and football, but always a Boston fan through and through for the Sox and Celtics too. He was 100% Red Sox, although he followed all sports and remembered sports stats like a genius. I told him baseball was boring and that it was a game, not a sport. The guys weren’t all exactly in the best shape, after all. This was a common conversation teasing him and him giving it right back. He was cute so I let him talk me into going to Fenway with him. I enjoyed the atmosphere and even got into the games, but still had a hard time watching at home unless we were playing the Yankees or it was the world series. As time went on, I couldn’t help but absorb more of that baseball love. For my following birthday, we went to Chicago to Wrigley and I absolutely loved the nostalgia. The history behind the game was what swooned me. That following summer, he and I drove across the country. We made stops at Busch Stadium, Coors Field, and Camden Yards. That first year we were together I got to see both Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire play.

We got married on July 24, 2004. This day became famous in the baseball world. We had a morning wedding, afternoon reception, and a whole lot of people back at our house after to watch the Sox vs the Yankees (yes, on my wedding night). This was the game that Jason Varitek clocked A-Rod and both benches cleared for the brawl that followed. Some say this was a night that changed Red Sox history. I know it became important in my house because it was definitely the reason I had a husband who ALWAYS remembered our anniversary!

When our kids were born, Bobby swore he would be the dad that coached everything, and he did. He couldn’t wait for the kids to turn 4 so he could get them into the town rec t-ball, then junior baseball after that. Our first 2 kids being girls, they gravitated more towards cheer, dancing, and gymnastics as they got older. When our 3rd came along and was a boy, well that was a game changer in his mind.

We are pretty lucky to live on Cape Cod for so many reasons, but come summertime, one of the best things the Cape offers is the CCBL. This stands for the Cape Cod Baseball League, the top league for summer ball in the nation. Every summer we can head over to one of the fields any given night and see the top college baseball players from sea to shining sea play America’s favorite pastime. It’s a wooden bat league and hearing that crack is a pretty cool sound. Watching these guys play is nothing less than thrilling. This is history and tradition and nostalgia paired with hard working young men lucky enough to get a chance to be here, seeing those scouts at the games, and doing all they can to be taken as soon as they’re draft eligible.

Bobby and I used to take the dog down to the field to sit on a blanket and watch these guys play. He would recite the stats and I would always wonder about the psychology behind it all. How did they always seem so cool and collected? How did the pitcher not choke? These guys aren’t just college kids though. These young men are the blood, sweat, and tears of the game.

Eventually, we left the dog at home to bring the kids. When our 1st son, Brody was 2, we decided to become a host family for the CCBL. We heard the players stay with local families and my husband thought that sounded like a lot of fun. We got our first player. After that we hosted 3 years in a row, 6 young men altogether. We formed some wonderful, lasting bonds with some great guys and their own families as well. The last year we hosted was the summer before Bobby was diagnosed with cancer and our lives were forever changed. The outpouring of love from my “summer sons” was amazing. Those close enough to pay respects did so in person. Those too far away sent comforting messages and mentioned how special my husband had been to them.

Bobby had always coached t-ball in the spring. The spring he was sick, I stepped in and coached with a sweet friend because otherwise Brody said he didn’t want to play. Bobby died in the middle of the season. Brody was 5. His dad was his best friend. He refused to play baseball anymore. That summer, we had to forget about hosting for the college boys. I had 1 guest room and spent the next 4 summers filling it with friends or their older kids who had the summer off and could help me with my kids and give me an extra set of hands around the house. I am blessed that so many people were willing and able to help me when I was left to be a single mom to 4 kids between the ages of 9 and 18 months.

Every spring when baseball season came around, I would ask Brody if he wanted to play. Every year he said no. He said he hated baseball and it was boring. I never needed him to have it be his sport and I never pushed him to play it, but it has been so difficult to see something that was so loved become hated because he associates it with his dad dying. It has broken my heart, really. Baseball has been such a huge part of who we all are for so long.

I have made it a point to keep an eye on where our former college guys are now and, thanks to social media, we have kept in touch fairly well. My kids are older now. They are more independent and don’t need the extra hands they did a few years ago. They have begged me every year to get baseball players again. This year, I agreed it was time. We also finally had a player close enough to road trip and visit. My kids are obsessed with our favorite right fielder and it was awesome to see my boys in their glory. It is so important to put positive role models in our kid’s lives and I am grateful beyond measure to have that! Brody played some baseball in gym and told me he was really good at it so I asked him if he thought he wanted to play again, but he still said, “no”.

June was approaching and so the arrival of our latest college ball players was getting closer. We were hosting 2 young men and the kids and I were all excited, not discussing much else at the dinner table. I noticed Brody seemed a bit distant, sad even, not really like himself. His teacher mentioned it on Friday that week as well. When I picked him up from school that day, I brought it up. He immediately started to cry and I pulled the car over, got out, and opened his door to hug him. He said, “Mom, I really am excited to be having baseball players come stay with us again, but it just makes me really sad too because the last time we hosted, Dad was still alive. So it makes me really, really miss him so much.”

Here is what I said, “Brody, it’s kind of like losing my mom. She loved to cook and she gave me that love, one of the best gifts she could have ever given me. When I cook her recipes and smell those smells, I am taken back. It makes me feel closer to her. It makes me sad, but it also gives me a chance to have a piece of her back in my life, even if it’s just for a little bit. Daddy loved baseball. He gave us all a love for baseball. It’s been missing from our lives for 4 years, even if we haven’t known it. By getting back into hosting, we are getting baseball back into our lives in a positive way. It makes us sad because we think of Daddy and miss him, but it also gives us a piece of him, even if it’s just for the summer.” I reminded him that it’s ok to be sad, as I always do, but he said that he liked that idea of having a little bit of Daddy back.

Now that I have my “summer sons”, I have realized that Brody really hasn’t been the only one needing this piece of Bobby back. I was inside making dinner and listening to my 4 kids and my 2 new big kids playing capture the flag. The true joy of the laughs and screams made my heart soar. Going to games again and screaming when your guy is at the plate or on the mound is an excitement that I almost forgot how much I loved and still do. I am cleaning up more dishes, being eaten out of house and home, and having my washer full of uniforms, but I am also seeing my children have a chance to have more positive role models in their lives, I’m having a blast looking at stats, and I’m in pure heaven screaming my ass off for my guys. You start to care about them quickly and you want to see them do well. As a mom, we want our kids to be happy. As a host mom we want that too. We also want to see these guys succeed, but we know they already have by being picked to play Cape ball in the first place.

I’m not really sure these young men are aware of the positive impact they have on the people around them, especially my children. There is a camp each team puts on weekly in the summer for the kids. My 5 year old decided to do it a long time ago, the first time I mentioned it. Brody, however, kept saying no. Last week, Brody and I were in the car together. Out of the blue he said, “Hey Mom, I decided I wanna do the baseball camp this summer.”

Healing happens differently for every person and with every loss. We will spend the rest of our lives continuing to heal in one way or another as different experiences and stages come and go. For the summers though, we will heal just a little more with every crack of that wooden bat.

Play ball!!!