Broken Lives Matter

I was going to wait until Wednesday to write a big, sweeping entry about my thoughts on being a "nearly wed." But this morning it finally occurred to me that if I wait all that time, my thoughts will pile up, and I'll miss out on adding to this blog, which has really been a great experience. This weekend has been unusually busy for me-- but in a good way. Friday I surprised myself with my energy and resourcefulness, preparing for a Halloween party nearby. Starting the day before , I realized that I didn't have a hostess gift. I know the "rules" of party-going have changed, and usually people just show up , and that's more than okay. I was prepared to do that too, of course. But then I waxed nostalgic for just a minute, remembering a time when people treated being invited to some one's house as an honor , and sincerely wanted to thank them for their hospitality. With this in mind, I browsed a nearby store, and after much deliberation I finally s...

Last night I made a decision, and this morning I carried it through. Since my poor bank account is dismally low and could use a few "pennies from Heaven"-- literally --I'm taking the Bridal Gallery's generous owner up on her offer--I'm letting her keep the dress and getting my money back. The first time I slipped that dress over my head, I told myself I would feel like a legend if I wore it down the aisle. When I saw myself in it, I knew it was perfect for this wedding. The O'Rourke family are legend; their history goes back before King Arthur:) But the same magic may not be exactly present if I ever plan my wedding again. And this morning, a belated birthday gift from my mom--a tapestry emblazoned with the moon and named after one of my favorite Irish songs, Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" arrived on my doorstep. The magic is still in my life--in a different form. I had a good cry (they've become something of a morning routine, but ...

Today has been another happy and sad day. There was a time, talking to Mikel's brother, when I thought "I could burst into tears standing alone in an empty room." It wouldn't have taken  any encouragement. And often I still feel like that. It's only been about two and a half months, after all. I can't believe it myself, but the inches of time that have passed actually amount to something measurable. Something new and interesting has developed. I find myself watching movies like Titanic and My Best Friend's Wedding to make myself cry...nothing else seems to do the trick:( And since sorrow is a chest-weighing, soul-crushing kind of emotion, I want to make myself cry just to get it out of me. I fall apart in the first strains of "Nearer My God to Thee," Heaven knows. And I wonder every single time I hear the Irish woman telling her  children a bedtime story about the land of Tir Na Nog of my Mikel is there...he believed in the Irish mythology ...

...and the moment is good. Just finally got back from the greatest solo adventure I've probably ever had--cross country to visit relatives I'd never met in person, sustained only by the connection I would have had to them had June 30th never happened....welcomed with open arms! The all-to-short but sweet first visit was marvelous. It's like nothing I've ever experienced up in the Midwest, or as I called it in Oklahoma, "the great white North." Disneyland is right there, and the Pacific Ocean is visible out almost every window. Each day is like a fairy tale--in October you put on your shorts or a sundress that bares your knees and wait for the heat! Back home in the October morning you put on your bathrobe and slippers, and wait for the day to grow dark again:( I came home and everything still smelled the same; my quiet, dark house was waiting patiently for me. Bursting with a million memories and stories, I begin my life which now feels much richer an...

Gotta love Patsy Cline after a long day:) There's something about all the bebop/country/classics that makes the heart happy. Especially while I'm suffering through a really allergy-miserable day when I volunteered at our would-be wedding venue. Now I know you all just braced when you heard that I was at St. Cecelia's Music Center, but don't worry; it's such a nice little building I couldn't stay away forever. And I made a point this time of not going upstairs to the Dexter Ballroom. And to my surprise all the women there knew about me (since I've already called and canceled), and offered their kind, kind condolences. I wasn't there to wallow, anyway. Since I graduated Grand Rapids has begun this extremely fun annual city-wide art awareness program for kids in school all the way up to elderly art lovers looking for something to do, called Art Prize. Saint Cecelia's was one of the several stations for visual art throughout the city displaying p...

It's been almost a week; I don't want to go ten days without writing; that's become something of a habit, and I need to nip that in the bud! These last few days have been especially hard for some reason. I keep remembering little things that didn't used to mean as much: the smell of the air now that Fall is finally inching toward us--particularly at night--the words my contractor said weeks ago running like a CD on repeat over and over again; "I miss the little guy." And imagining what it will be like to meet his friends and family in person, after almost 3 months to the day of talking on the phone or through text messages or Facebook...everything seems to be coming to a head. I had a nice talk last night with his brother in California. I always feel bad ending the conversation early; it's only dinnertime where he is. But for me, it's usually past my bedtime:) We talked for about a minute about how the trip will probably be one continuous (cheerfu...

Last night I happened to be in town for another reason, purposely lingering until dinner time. I looked and looked for a little tavern I'd heard about, hoping for a cold beer after walking around in the 80 degree heat. After about an hour (really, I held out that long), I decided to try a wonderful, relatively small place called The Bull's Head. http://thebullsheadtavern.com The outdoor sign that jutted out above my head was a little rustic, but also kind of classy, just the outline of a the head of a bull in silver against a dark backdrop. It reminded me of the old Dublin Brazen Head Pub, or the Galway King's Head Pub. Such associations just can't be ignored:) Immediately, I was a little nervous about how much this little place would cost me; white linens on the tables, cushy faux leather benches, dark wood, a little well-stocked bar, and a swanky-yet-charming staircase that led to yet more dining space. But I told myself to relax and give it a try. I even order...

Ten days since I last blogged? My how time flies. I've been so busy (or lethargic), everything is just a blur. Well, the good news is I've started getting into writing my story about me and Mikel...but I don't think it will be done any time soon. Maybe not even this year! We were together a year, and there is so much correspondence and material to go on. Just the journals I've kept and the memories that go along with them are a novel in themselves. Then there's the fact that writing everything; my sadness, my bewilderment, my shock, fury, disappointment and miniscule joys--is exhausting. I've hardly even begun the first chapter and it's almost more than I can bare. After every writing session I find myself needing to break for a day or two just to get my head back on straight:( But I do have a wonderful office. Or at least the makings of a wonderful office:) The floor is unfinished wood and the closet doors don't close properly. But I have the w...

And here it is, my wedding ring:') I had planned, months ago, that this blog would end when I received this ring and said my vows. The gold band with scrolled sides and the outline of a heart encircling an engraved "o" were to be the crown I wore around my finger. An entry entitled "Crowned" was to be the end. But somehow this is not the end! This ring is the biggest promise he made--and kept--to me. It symbolizes much more to come, and a much more different life than I had planned. Whatever lies ahead for both of us, I know he will help me through it. Mikel will always, always be a part of me. And of course I didn't need a symbol of that, but now there is no denying it. My heart will hold the memories, the ring will display my heart.

Yesterday I had a revelation. Things are a lot easier for me, all of a sudden, than I thought they were two months ago. When you're hit with the death of your whole world after a quick, terrible illness, it feels like the air is rapidly being removed from your lungs. You feel like everything everywhere is collapsing in on you, and the whole world is against you. Given all of these suffocating factors, of course you're also going to feel like the simplest things are impossible, and the harder things will almost kill you. But then if you're lucky, and I guess I am, something happens. You discover friends who love you whom you've never met in person. Family will appear from out of the blue to support you and encourage you when you feel like you'd much rather join the person you've lost than go on. And all around you will appear new places for your energy and love. I thank whatever inspired me to seek another dog on the Internet just a few days after Mikel...

My life-long anthem singer, the man who has unwittingly written my entire life's story in his songs, Tom Waits, sings a song with a very appropriate line for this moment, in a song called "Hold On." Possibly my favorite song of all time, it sings, "with charcoal eyes and Monroe hips, she went and took that California trip. Well the moon was gold her hair like wind, she said don't look back..." and here I am. Planning a trip to California to properly remember my own beloved with his family and friends who loved him. I'm just lucky enough to have loved him too, so now I've been adopted into his circle of distant friends and family, all of whom I can't wait to meet. I'm planning on taking the train down too, which brings even more romance to this whole affair; I always wanted to take Michael on a train for some part of our honeymoon. He'd never been on one, and I thought this was such a shame; once we wandered into a toy store and he la...

Tonight's entire dinner I owe to a little help from my friend:) Yesterday I bought some ground lamb, starving for a little something tastier than beef or chicken. And I had just finally gone to the health food store near by to get groceries. Surprisingly, the health food store is where you go for game meat in this neighborhood. Well, the only thing that came to mind to do with ground lamb was either chili or shepherd's pie, neither of which sounded very appealing in this God forsaken heat! So I grabbed one of Mikel's cookbooks that he'd had before he even met me, and found a recipe for ground lamb patties on salad. It sounded delicious, and fairly quick, so I started gathering ingredients. To my shock and delight we had almost all the Greek-inspired spices, and they were all in Mikel's spice drawer in the apartment before he met me. Cumin, paprika, mint tea (that I sprinkled on the meat), and amazingly, Montreal Steak Seasoning! As I think about it, maybe Mik...

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...

It's becoming harder not to think about what I've always had faith in. The only clearer indicator would be if moonlight flooded the hospital room every night, as God has always been represented by moonlight to me. And when I was very sick in the hospital with shunt malfunctions or encephalitus, somehow my faith wrapped me in a warm, safe cucoon. Just like right after the death of my father, at the darkest points in my life, at the saddest and loneliest moments, I feel faith pulling me back. However much I've tried to find other answers to the cosmic questions, it's impossible to ignore the feeling of being protected, a sense that although things may be terrible and tragic for a while, eventually they will turn out even better than they were before. This ecperience will change us. It will make us stronger as individuals and as a couple. He'll know he can rely on me, and I'll be rewarded for loving him so much-- with an unwavering devotion. For making a lif...

This morning I arrived at the hhospital before 8:00 after spending the night at home, marveling at the transformation since my mother had come and cleaned and organized like banshhee, indulging in a soak in my wonderful bathtub, and a fitfull night's sleep. Coming into the room I asked Mikel how he was doing, and he smiled; "I survived the nighht without you." So we're surviving. This is incredibly difficult, but I'm sure there must be a reason. Maybe he was juust tryng to do so much, trying to accomplish too much, and Fate had to step in and slow him down because he's supposed to stay with me for a long time:) That's what I'd like to believe. Meanwhile I'm finding ways to make myself useful to him, something I don't always remember being able to do when we were just living at home. He was always the go-getter who tried to be productive every day; I often felt like I was a lazy homebody, 'cause I honestly didn't always feel like ...

I sit awake after four hours of sleep (my new average) at Spectrum Butterworth hospital. My poor, sweet, smart, wonderful Michael has been here since shortly after my last entry, Tuesday. He awoke from a nap in our home unable to swallow and with numbness in the left side of his face.That seems like a lifetime ago. We spent six hours in the ER, five of them in the brilliantly illuminated hallway. I stole away to the waiting room a couple times to clear my head; I've never seen it so busy. They had to call people's names like at a regular doctor's office. The hallways were so conjested with stretchers and supply carts I could barely snake my way through-- and I had jumped into the ambulance without my walker! He was finally admitted to a tiny little room that is packed with stuff-- his, mine and the hospital's all crammed into every available crevice. There's about a two foot path around his bed for medical staff to maneuver, and it seems good enough. Suddenly...