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June 15, 1992
My Ilyushenka,
you are one year old today.
A year ago I held you for the first time; your lungs were strong as you made everyone in the hospital aware of your existence. It was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Alexei was quiet when he was born, which worried the doctors and weighed on my heart. I thought I had failed in the one thing my body was supposed to do naturally. He got better but he was never loud the way you were from your very first day.
Your brother had begged me to let him come to the hospital, he couldn't contain his excitement about being a big brother. He was the first one to greet you when we arrived home. He held you in his arms and promised to be the best brother in the world. I have no doubt he will. He loves you so much.
Even as a one-year-old, you have such a strong personality. You eat everything, except if I dare to give you carrots in any form; then you throw a tantrum so severe I'm afraid the neighbors will come and complain some day. You get frustrated when your legs aren't strong enough to keep you upright to chase your brother. You refuse to go to sleep if I don't sing to you, which I find strange since I'm the least musically talented person I know.
You're already the most wonderful boy. I can't wait to see what kind of man you'll eventually grow up to be.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 1993
My Ilyushenka,
you are two years old today.
I just read my last letter and realized I forgot to explain the meaning of them.
For every year on your birthday, I'm going to write you a letter. When you turn eighteen, I will give them to you, so you will have a piece of your younger self and also of your Mama with you, always. When you eventually move away and chase all your wildest dreams, whatever they might be, then you can read these and remember how much I love you. How much I have loved you since you were born. How much I will love you until the day I die and beyond that.
Today, you are turning two and you haven't slowed down one bit from last year. Right this moment I can hear you and Alexei giggling downstairs. You are allowed to be loud when your father isn't home. Sometimes I wish he was away more. I want to give you all the freedom to be a child before society undoubtedly demands you to leave that behind and be a man.
You love to run, to be on the move every single second. You are fast too, faster than most children your age. When you are older, we are going to have to get you a hobby or some other way to exhaust yourself. I'm sure we'll find something you will love.
Two days after your last birthday, you said your first word. Mama. I was so proud of you. So proud to be your mama. You boys are the one thing in my life I have no regrets about.
For the third year in a row, it's raining on your birthday. I hope it doesn't mean there's too much rain in your future. I want nothing but sunlight for you.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 1994
My Ilyushenka,
you are three years old today.
Your father is home today and he is not happy with you or your brother, least of all me. There is a silence hanging in the air that I don't like. We were supposed to celebrate today. Maybe we can sneak out, just the two us. I will endure his anger afterwards if it means I can give you your special day.
I hear yelling. I have to go, to try to make you and your brother invisible to his rage. I will do that for you every single time I have to. I wish I didn't have to.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 1995
My Ilyushenka,
you are four years old today.
I'm sorry I didn't say anything real in the last letter. Or maybe I was too honest. But you are eighteen now, reading these, so you'll know what the reality is either way. Maybe he'll get softer as he ages. He hasn't yet.
Last winter when the river froze, I put you in tiny skates and off you went. I thought putting blades on your feet would slow you down, at least make you stumble a little bit, but you were a natural from the beginning. You wanted to go every day after that.
Maybe I need to find some hockey lessons for you to try. There you would have team mates, at least.
Sometimes I'm afraid you are lonely, now that Alexei has grown up enough to have his own friends he wants to spend time with, instead of his little brother. I see how much you miss him.
At least when the night falls, you two are the brothers you have always been. Alexei has taken over putting you to sleep. He's still nervous about reading aloud in class, but he will go through even the longer storybooks with you. Sometimes when I'm watching from the doorway as he sits on your bed, you fighting sleep as you want to hear how the story ends, I want to freeze time. To have you two stay the way you are in that moment, forever. My boys.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 1996
My Ilyushenka,
you are five years old today.
You have made a friend. You have other friends, yes, but Svetlana is special. You follow her around like a lost puppy sometimes, letting her drag you around with no complaint. She is very honest in a way you have already learned not to be. I like her. I think she is good for you. I hope you two stay friends for a long time.
You are a superstar in hockey, at least in my eyes. You are playing with the older kids since your peers can't keep up with your speed. I love going to the rink with you, it's like you are in your element there. The other parents are nice too. It's good for me to have real human connections sometimes, I think.
Your birthday wish was a dog. Your father wouldn't want one in the house. I would love one. Some day. Yet another thing to add to the endless "maybe some day" list. I have faith we'll get there.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 1997
My Ilyushenka,
you are six years old today.
You are angry at your brother at the moment. He is ten already, slowly abandoning his childhood in order to become a teenager. He didn't wish you happy birthday. He might have forgotten. Or maybe he was in one of his moods. I don't know, but it makes me sad to see the cracks in your brotherhood already. It was inevitable, it always is with siblings, but I wanted a few more years of you two being close the way you were when he still read your bedtime stories.
I don't think his friends are a good influence on him. I'm afraid my influence is not enough to save him.
You are so eager to learn, yet at the same time have no patience in staying still and focusing on one thing at a time. You have no patience for being bored. Maybe you'll eventually learn that boring can be good, too. It's what safety and stability bring forth. And I want you to feel safe and stable.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 1998
My Ilyushenka,
you are seven years old today.
You and I are alone at the house today since your father took Alexei with him to visit your father's family. It's been so good to just be with you, to do anything you wanted to do. We almost burned the cookies we made, but it doesn't matter — we had too much fun for it to matter. You didn't want to follow the recipe and insisted on putting "the right" amount of ingredients based on your intuition only. There was too much cinnamon and at least three other spices that should never be put on a dessert. I had never tasted anything better.
I'm writing this on the couch, where you have fallen asleep with your head on my lap. You grow up so fast, but in this moment you seem so small. Will you still let me brush my fingers through your hair when you are eighteen years old? If we have forgotten to do that, would you let me? You will always be my baby, even when you have reached adulthood.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 1999
My Ilyushenka,
you are eight years old today.
You are such a funny kid, I don't think I say that enough. You make me laugh in a way I used to when I was at sleepovers with my friends as a kid. Your humor is so clever for your age it sometimes shocks even me.
I don't know if your own kid can be your best friend, but you are mine. Although I know Svetlana is yours, I hope I can be the number two spot for you.
I miss my old friends a lot these days. I think I might be a little lonely. And that makes me sad.
You always notice when I'm sad. My perceptive son.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 2000
My Ilyushenka,
you are nine years old today.
I sometimes feel bad for the other kids that have to play hockey with you, but especially for the ones that have to play against you. You simply are better than all of them, it's almost ridiculous. I'm filled with so much pride.
It's not just hockey that makes me proud. It's you, who you are as a person. You are so kind. Last week you found a bird with a broken wing laying on the street and brought it home, ready to nurse it back to health. You would've, if your father hadn't gotten rid of it. You tried to hide your tears, but you can't ever hide from me. I know your father always expects too much from you, wants you to be a man when you should just be a kid. I'm afraid you'll have to grow up too soon for my liking.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 2001
My Ilyushenka,
you are ten years old today.
I sometimes imagine you as an eighteen-year-old, reading these. It's strange to think about that, it seems like a such a long time. But eight years can go in a blink of an eye — it feels like these last ten years have done so.
I think you'll be tall. Alexei is already so tall, and he is barely fourteen. I think you'll still be playing hockey, it's what you do best. And you love being the best. I hope you and Svetlana are still friends. You must be, it feels like nothing can bring you two apart. Or maybe you two will be more than that, who knows. Or maybe you'll have someone else in your life, someone who loves you. Someone you choose. I never got to make that choice.
Today you are ten years old and you have grown up so much. Too much, almost. You get into fights and get into trouble at school and argue with your brother, but you are still so sweet to me. That has never changed.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 2002
My Ilyushenka,
you are eleven years old today.
It's not a good day for me today.
I'm sorry.
I'm just so very tired.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 2003
My Ilyushenka,
you are twelve years old today.
It has not been good for awhile. Everything feels harder than it should be. I feel like I'm not being a good mother anymore.
I think I have lost Alexei. He is too cruel and too reckless for me to recognize him to be the same sweet boy he used to be.
Sometimes I'm afraid Alexei is too much like your father.
Sometimes I'm afraid you are too much like me.
I don't know how long I can continue like this. But I will try. For you, I will try.
I just don't know if that will be enough.
Remember, I will always love you. I'm so proud of you, every single day. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.
With love,
your Mama
June 15, 2004
My Mama,
I am thirteen years old today.
I miss you.
Why did you go?
Why wasn't I enough?
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2005
My Mama,
I am fourteen years old today.
I am angry. Maybe the same way Papa is.
I am sad. Maybe the same way you were.
I hate this and I hate my birthday and I'm drunk and it's not helping.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2006
My Mama,
I am fifteen years old today.
I kissed a boy. I don't know if you would hate me for that.
I don't know what your favorite color is. I don't know what that song was, the one you used to sing to me when I was little. I don't know why you never left my father.
I will never find the answers to these.
All I have of you are these letters that you said you would give me when I turn eighteen. I read them after your funeral.
I have nothing but the letters and the cross hanging from my neck. I don't even know if you believe in God. I don't know if I can believe in God after what happened to you.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2007
My Mama,
I am sixteen years old today.
I don't think I love hockey the same way I did when you were cheering me on. It's still fun and I'm still the best one, but it lost its shine without you. But there's nothing I'd rather be doing, so I'm continuing. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I can almost see you jump up and scream with pride after I score a goal.
Papa cares about hockey nowadays, just because I'm successful in it. He never cared before. He wants me to play in the KHL. I want to play in the NHL. He wants me to make Russia proud. I just want to make you proud.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2008
My Mama,
I am seventeen years old today.
I hate my birthday. Papa doesn't remember it. Alexei lives on his own and doesn't call unless he needs something from me. Sveta tries to cheer me up and doesn't look hurt when I refuse to entertain her.
Some days I hate you as well and that makes me hate myself.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2009
My Mama,
I am eighteen years old today.
The NHL draft is in eleven days. I think I'm going to be the number one draft pick. Unless Hollander steals that from me. He's an insufferable, polite Canadian with the most beautiful freckles. He might be a better hockey player than me, but I would never admit that to anyone.
It's nice. Not being alone at the top. I have been lonely for so long.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2010
My Mama,
I am nineteen years old today.
I might have done something stupid.
I can't get Shane Hollander out of my mind. In two weeks we're going to be doing a commercial together. It was my idea but I don't know what I was thinking. Or maybe I do. I just want to…
I think this is going to be such a bad idea.
I got drafted to Boston Bears. I'm very excited, even though the team sucks a bit. But I think I will make it better. I will win the Cup for you, Mama.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2011
My Mama,
I am twenty years old today.
I have been a Boston Bear for a year now. I love it. Our team is not great yet, but I'm so good that it's almost enough sometimes. I like my teammates. Marlow is my favorite. He acts like a big brother sometimes and I don't know what to do with that since my own brother wants nothing to do with me anymore.
You wrote in your letters about an Alexei that was so excited about being a big brother, of someone who took that role seriously. I don't remember him ever being like that. I don't know if it's a good or a bad thing that I don't remember.
I'm afraid I'm going to start forgetting you too.
Papa sometimes forgets. I wonder if it's easier that way.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2012
My Mama,
I am twenty-one years old today.
For Americans this would be a big day, being allowed to drink legally. I have been doing that for as long as I have been having sex. Which is probably for too long considering how young I still am.
Hockey and sex. That's my life and it's good.
At least that's what I tell myself when the sadness creeps in.
I don't know. I'm feeling empty today. But then again, I've been feeling empty on every single one of my birthdays for eight years now.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2013
My Mama,
I am twenty-two years old today.
There's a song about that, I think. I don't feel very twenty-two, though.
I feel like the twelve-year-old me today. The grief feels as sharp as it did back then.
You were twenty-two when you had Alexei. You were already burdened with motherhood at this age. I'm considering buying myself a new car. Maybe it will satisfy this endless need within me.
Marlow wants to go bar hopping today. The bad thing about being famous is that I can't hide my birthday since it's on my Wikipedia page. Maybe I will find someone to take home. Maybe I can pretend for a bit.
Sveta called today. I can't pretend with her, I never could. She sees through me. She's the only one I can talk about you with. She's the only one who knows about these letters. She told me to say hi to you. You always loved her.
I pretend and hide too much already. At least with Sveta I don't have to do that.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2014
My Mama,
I am twenty-three years old today.
I haven't been good enough. I didn't make Papa proud in Russia.
I hope I made you proud when I won the Cup. I did it for you.
I hurt Hollander but I think I'm hurting myself at the same time as well. We haven't spoken in six months. I was mean to him before. Russia brings that out in me. It brings out the son of Grigori Rozanov side of me. I wish I could just always be the son of Irina Rozanova instead.
I don't know what it is about Shane that I can't get out of my mind. I need to stop thinking about him. I need to quit him.
I need a cigarette.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2015
My Mama,
I am twenty-four years old today.
I don't want to do this right now.
I'm sad again. There's no reason to be. I just am.
Was this how you felt?
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2016
My Mama,
I am twenty-five years old today.
I think I'm falling in love with him.
I'm so scared.
I'm scared he doesn't feel the same. I'm scared of Russia. I'm scared this is never going to be enough.
I get so little of him, sprinkled through the year. He makes me feel a hunger I fear is never going to be satiated.
Everyone always wants more from me but all I want is more of him.
I wish you were here. You would know what I should do.
I don't want to go to Russia anymore, but it's where the last pieces of you are. When I visit your grave, I can still feel you.
Or maybe I'm just lying to myself. I seem to be doing that a lot.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2017
My Mama,
I am twenty-six years old today.
Papa is dead. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that.
He's not important anymore.
Shane is.
I love him, Mama.
I told him I love him. I cheated a bit, confessing that to him in Russian. I didn't want him to understand, but I also wanted to say it in my own language first. "Mother tongue", they call it. The language I learned from you. Those three words that you taught me.
I think you would've loved him. The way I love him.
I'm going to his cottage this summer. It's a gift, getting to spend this time with him. I almost lost him last year. I almost let him go earlier this year. But then Scott Hunter kissed a man on television and I wasn't so scared anymore.
I will try to be brave for him.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2018
My Mama,
I am twenty-seven years old today.
I'm no longer a Boston Bear. I thought I would be until the end. The team used to be the most important team to me for a long time. My priorities have changed now.
I'm moving to Ottawa. I'm doing it for Shane. My boyfriend! My beautiful boyfriend who loves me and named a foundation after you and who holds me in a way I haven't let anyone do in fifteen years.
Life feels good. I feel hopeful.
I think Sveta knows about Shane. She has known about "Jane" for many years now, and I think she connected the dots. She's always been to clever for her own good. That's what you used to say.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2019
My Mama,
I am twenty-eight years old today.
The Centaurs are the worst team I've ever played with. I kind of love them.
I kind of love Ottawa too, which is terrible considering how boring it is. But I think boring is safe and good and what I need in my life.
I have spent a lot of time with Yuna and David, Shane's parents. It makes me guilty every time. I feel guilty about how much of you I see in Yuna and how little of Papa I see in David.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2020
My Mama,
I am twenty-nine years old today.
I see so much of you in myself nowadays and it scares me. I scare myself.
I think I'm depressed, the way you were. I think I've always been.
I know the pain of losing someone who took their own life and I would never want to do that to Shane. I know he would somehow blame himself, the same way I did. I have forgiven you now. I don't know if I have forgiven myself, yet.
I'm going to look for therapy. I want to be better for Shane and for myself. And for you, too.
Your Ilyushenka
June 15, 2021
My Mama,
I am thirty years old today.
Shane and I are getting married in a month.
I can't wait to be his husband. I can't wait to play on the same team as him. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him.
Everything that we were afraid would happen, happened. The whole world knows about us. And still, we survived to the other side. We disappointed a lot of people, I know, but I don't care even a bit.
I can finally say that Shane is mine and has been for over a decade, and I am his. We belong to each other and no one can take that from us.
You should be at the wedding. You would've loved Shane, yes, but you would've loved the rest of my new family too. You will be in my heart on my wedding day, like you are every day.
Your Ilyushenka