Broken Lives Matter

It's been such a long time since I updated, and I've missed a few concerned loved one's phone calls, so let me fill you all in. I'm doing better. It still hurts, and I'm still sad a lot; I seem to be stuck in a rut of not really wanting to accomplish anything. The same thing happened when my dad died; I really didn't want to succeed at anything because I couldn't share it with him. How would I know if he was proud of me? How would I know if I was doing the right things? With Mikel gone, it's very much the same; I don't have his eyes on me, shining with the pride they feel. I don't have his smile or his hugs to tell me I'm doing a good job, so I'm having a little trouble digging myself out of the hole that grief has buried me in. But I'm getting there. I have lots to do constantly, thanks to two wonderful dogs and a wonderful house that is still being worked on. The changes being made aren't for Mikel's convenience any m...

Every day there is something else to be thankful to Mikel for giving me. There are things he taught me, things that he paid for from his hospital bed, people who have helped me after Mikel's death that I never would have even known without him, and lessons that I've learned as a result of knowing him that have forever changed me. This week has been surprisingly busy and very fulfilling; it had to be. Tuesday after forcing myself out of the mire I'd been in for two weeks, allowing myself to wallow in the miserable knowledge that he was gone and would never be coming back, I went with our life insurance agent, a woman whose son mowed our lawn in exchange for tutoring in math and English, out to breakfast. We were at the delicious Real Food Cafe, which is the cutest little diner in the state and always busy. I forced down memories of eating there frequently with Michael, and enjoyed my favorite meal. Christine and I actually had a lot to talk about; I could have stayed th...

Very slowly, things are crawling into place. Life still feels precarious sometimes, and sometimes I still have to shake myself out of the shock and conviction that this should not be happening. The fact is it is happening. And it's getting easier. My would-be mother-in-law entered my home when I was at my mother's still in the throes of miserable grief, having told herself she would be doing me a favor taking away anything that reminded me of Mikel, and took everything .that she had given him over the years, including a big-screen TV, some furniture, some of our linens and bathroom stuff. Plus a computer monitor that belongs to me, she took in error. Other things she moved, so I now have to find them:) Wasn't that nice? Flash forward a week, and my computer has been restored to me. It took a lot of negotiating and pride-swallowing on my part, but I finally, finally got through to her. And meanwhile my house is filling up. My mom and I have cleaned out Salvation Army a...

The "bookmarks" on my internet toolbar tell such a story. Before Mikel died, when we still thought he was going to get over the effects of the stroke, regain his ability to swallow, and he couldn't wait to eat again, I found and bookmarked a website of George Foreman grill recipes for him:) Then, when I realized the feeding tube would need to be more permanent, I privately bookmarked a website on "life after stroke", to help me deal with whatever I had to deal with. A few days later, that bookmark was gone, replaced by the website for the funeral home arranging his memorial ( www.memorialalternatives.com ) and "Deactivating, Deleting, and Memorializing Accounts" on Facebook. Nothing can happen 'til there's official notice of Michael's death, and neither can life insurance file a claim! But a death is hard hard for everyone. It forces us all to grow up and learn about things we never imagined we'd need to.

"...and just like that, [he, Mikel, anam cara, mo gar] was gone." My dear man died at 2:10 in the afternoon, Saturday June 30. He had suffered a stroke on June 18 and his poor body could not recover. After my dad died in 2007, I read everything I could find about the grieving process. I actually became kind of an authority on it; I read C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed , and wrote down my own observations on how my body handled grief. I even joined a grief counseling group at my church. I sobbed through a heart breaking scene in Ken Follet's mammoth Pillars of the Earth , during which the main character and her brother must say goodbye to their living father, and promise never to revisit him in the Mideivil jail. Everything was cathartic and wonderfully helpful. I really thought I had learned something. But this grief still feels entirely foreign. I find myself wondering if it will ever lessen, whether my heart will ever stop hurting. Mornings are the hardest. Th...