michael

[code monkey]

thank you, everyone. you are all juggling so much. i am truly humbled by your care and concern.

pumpkin, please tell leo that the mom who sent the books is very happy that people as nice as he and his family are enjoying them. please also tell him that the son whose books they were is or would be equally pleased. i have no doubt of this. he was generous and wonderful with children.

a few days ago i got a letter from a woman who works in the dining hall at elliot's college. she told me how much she and her coworkers liked him, how polite and kind he was and how devastated they were when they learned that their 'sweet elliot' had died. finally, she told me that she and her husband had recently put flowers on their son's grave. i cannot get over the number of people who have had this heartbreak.

[code monkey]

today is the 2nd anniversary of michael's death. it doesn't seem possible. at times i have the thought that he'll be in the next room but he never is. other times i feel that i'm going through the motions. marking time. i realized recently that both my mother and grandmother were widows for ~13 yrs. 11 to go.

this past year i've learned how to reset the car's trip odometer and how to warm the car up faster. i've gotten good at using the sideview mirrors. i wish i didn't have to do any of this.

i've been shocked by conversations with others in my position, women who were happy in their marriages, who've told me that they really enjoy their independence now that they're alone. the last time i heard this, from someone who'd just told me how romantic her husband was and how he'd plan wonderful surprises for her, i heard lines from the psalm in my head - if i forget thee may my right hand lose its cunning, may my togue cleave to the roof of my mouth - i didn't know that i'd memorized them. (yes, i know that the psalmist was speaking of jerusalem.) another had told me how much she enjoyed a long trip that she'd taken along the coast with just her dog and how wonderful it was to go wherever she wanted whenever she wanted. i know, different relationships but, as i said, these women were happy in their marriages.

please, go give someone that you're on hugging terms with a hug. tell someone you love that you do. tell someone who did you a favor, helped you out or just brightens your day that you appreciate him/her. you're all smart people and you'll figure out a way to do this without seeming odd. so many people have told me that they wished that they'd gotten to know elliot or michael better that i'm going to tell you not to wait. is there someone you'd like to know better? then act. now. carpe diem. life is too bloody short. and please think of them.

i'm going to get another drink and return to the archives. i'll pretend that he's here.

[Cyborg Girl]

*hugs*

[Swift]

I sometimes read FWIS 2.0, and marvel that I can.

I'll often dish up old CQ/BAUT threads (particularly in F-n-G) to read old jokes from Mike.

Crap....

[grapes]

I think I'll go WITA right now!

* WITA - Wallow In The Archives

[Sigma_Orionis]

.....i'm going to get another drink and return to the archives. i'll pretend that he's here.

In a VERY roundabout way, he is.

[code monkey]

you have a point, sigma. (michael would have said that you usually comb your hair over it.)

mitch albom talks about the second death. what's that? that is when nobody remembers you or knows who you were. there is some comfort is knowing that you all remember him.

[code monkey]

today's our wedding anniversary. and i still have some left over wine.

on one of the bad days after the 1st surgery i'd taken a dose of all of the prescribed analgesics and was sitting up in bed - a little woozy - and thinking that when michael got back from the lab i'd talk with him about how we could get things set up in the morning so that i could get more done. and then i thought, no, he isn't coming back from the lab. he's dead. what was strange is that my affect was absolutely flat. in the past that sort of thing would have flattened me but this time there was absolutely no emotional content. i was trying to come to terms with that when i saw michael walk into the room. he looked around, sat down on the bed next to me and held my hand. he didn't say anything; just sat holding my hand and looking into my eyes. after a while he kissed my hand, got up and walked out of the room. michael, it's bad enough that elliot died. (and i'll never understand that.) why'd you have to as well? i'm not managing this very well. oh, yes, i'm keeping the bills paid and myself fed. i used to say that i also kept the cat fed but he died. about a year after you, michael. i was surprised to see how much i missed him. he used to run to meet the car if he were around when i came back. he'd jump into the car and sit on my lap. i'd pet him and tell him that he deserved a better human. i felt that he was an obligation. i fed him everyday because he was used to having his food provided. and the fligh of stairs was exercise. he used to greet me at the door and then run over to the tin we kept the at food in. just in case i'd forgotten.

i miss you, michael. i miss you, elliot.

[Loresinger]

HUGS

[Sigma_Orionis]

What she said

[grapes]

Still have the hat on my desk. Probably always will.

[SciFiFisher]

we are here.

[Swift]

Fuck

I have nothing to say. "It sucks" is such a pale shaddow of what I feel.

[geonuc]

I can't comprehend such pain and I'm really sorry this happened to you.

[code monkey]

thanks, guys. i don't have the words to adequately express my gratitude but please know that i m profoundly grateful - for the friendship that you've shown me, for the acceptance, for letting me go on when i'm feeling like this, for the love you had for michael and for remembering.

my sister's asked if i realized that i had years of something that many people never experience. yes, i told her. that doesn't make it easy to be without it.

[Swift]

my sister's asked if i realized that i had years of something that many people never experience. yes, i told her. that doesn't make it easy to be without it.

That reminds me of a story.

A fellow I knew years ago, Dave Noble, had his house burn down. He and his wife and his kids all got out safely, but the house was a complete loss. People would repeatedly tell him how lucky he was, that he and his family were safe. His feelings on this were very mixed; on the one hand, yes, he was lucky that his family was safe and that was the most important thing. But, on the other hand, if he was so lucky, his house wouldn't have caught fire at all.

[code monkey]

and today's michael's birthday. sunday was elliot's and i observed that with a few spoonfuls of peanut butter from the jar that was in his dorm room. i'll buy a new jar in a few years. it would have been a sandwich but the only bread i have in the house is a few frozen hamburger rolls. they didn't appeal so just straight peanut butter. and i read some of your things. stories. essays. you were so smart. your logical arguments were crystal clear. your stories were funny as all get-out. do you remember the student teacher who had such trouble believing that you'd written them yourself? oh my baby, how i miss you. yes, elliot. i know that you're not baby but you'll always be my baby. and i know that it makes no sense to you but when you're older you'll understand. but you didn't get old enough, did you? damn. oh damn damn damn. you'd have done such amazing things. why weren't you given the time?

michael, today i had a bottle of wine that we'd gotten for something. a birthday or anniversary but we never got around to opening it. and then left over seder wine. well aged. i read some of your stories. and things that people had written about you. kc's essay always makes me laugh. at first. i'm so glad that i called her at the end. the look of wonder on your face when she walked in was amazing. joe biden was right. stephanie's just makes me cry. i sent her an email to thank her. i didn't get to abby's this year. people liked you so much. admired you. you and elliot were such good writers and story tellers. i've been sending out the contributions we talked about. i've done this every year. and a large bill in the homeward bound pushke. for you, elliot. i'll never forget the time you saw that pushke and made your contribution. you were so young and so determined.

michael, do you remember standing with my mother at my father's grave? joey, she said. there are such bums walking around. what are you doing here? i wonder the same for you and elliot. i wish that i could believe n an afterlife because then, were i found worthy, we'd be together again.

[SciFiFisher]

When you tell us your story I can see them and hear the men they are through your voice. Grief it seems has a way of making us all into story tellers.

[Thumper]

Michael and my father share a birthday. I'm glad I got to see him yesterday and wish him Happy Birthday. We'll celebrate Saturday when my sister comes up to visit.
Thank You, Code Monkey.

[Swift]

[geonuc]

When you tell us your story I can see them and hear the men they are through your voice. Grief it seems has a way of making us all into story tellers.

Yes, and song writers.

[pumpkinpi]

Their spirits will remain alive as long as you keep sharing these thoughts and stories.

[Sigma_Orionis]

I never had any contact with your son Mr. Mono, but I have no doubt he was a chip of the old block. Mike Alexander was wonderful man. I wish I could have had the privilege of meeting him in person.

[code monkey]

and now it's been 3 years since Michael died. 4 since Elliot. I don't know how this is possible. I never thought that i'd marry, much less have children and then there I was. I never knew that one could love so intensely. so fiercely. I've been having flashbacks. an interaction with 1 or the other of them will pop into my mind. I don't mean anything like my post-surgical hallucination. I mean a complete exchange from years ago. I can see and hear them.

what's marked the last year? surgeries. talking with more people and finding more women who've endured the death of a child or husband. just the other day I was in the changing room at the pool and a woman who was standing close to me said to another that she might be surprised at the number of widows there were. I told them that I was one. they both were.

I've remembered why I called Michael michael. not the rarest name is it? back in graduate school I was talking with a friend whose husband was also Michael. after many clarifications as to which mike was being referred to and tripping over 'your mike'/ 'my mike' we decided that we had to give them distinctive names and so my mike became, and stayed, Michael.

i'm becoming diplomatic. one of the widows was raging about how insulted she was when a friend of hers, whose child had died, told her that she could understand her grief because of her own bereavement. how dare she make such a comparison! I simply took a breath, pointed out that i'd experienced both, that I was comfortable in ordering things that one could weight, count or measure and grief was not one of those things. therefore I would simply say that they both reeked and that people grieve, and experience the deaths of those they love, differently. Michael would be proud of me.

now here are your orders:
those of you with a special person or special people in your lives, go hug him/her/them and tell him/her/them how important he/she/they are. and if you're not on hugging terms, skip the physical and just do the verbal. you'll figure out how to do it without sounding like a stalker.

the next time that you're about to lose your temper and just let that idiot have it, take a deep breath and ask yourself if you really want to bring so much anger into the world. (take another breath if the answer's 'yes'.)

surprise someone with an unexpected act of kindness.

think about Michael and Elliot. just for a bit.

[vendic]

{{{{{{CM}}}}}}

The only things that make me cry is thinking of you and reading your posts on Mike and Elliot.
I only met Elliot once and he was a fine young man. Taken far before his time.
My interaction with Mike on this site will have a life long impact on me and I often think of him.
He liked to read about the crazy shit I get myself into and we'd have a good laugh over them.
I continue to think of him every time I get myself into another one of those situations.