Are You Sad?

Last night was a nice evening. My son and I arrived home from our day at work and school a bit early, which made the evening feel less rushed than usual. Abel was there, and had done some cleaning, which made me smile. After checking in with the my daughter, her boyfriend, and a visiting friend, I went to my bedroom to have a bit of quiet time with Abel.

Those of you who are parents know there isn't too much quiet time when arriving home from work. There is homework to be supervised, dinner to be made, mail to be read, and whatever chores you had planned. While my son was at the table doing some reading, my daughter, Abel and I were busy getting dinner started. In between checking on the food I was running outdoors installing more landscape lighting which needs to be done in the dark to know what I want to highlight.

At some point I came back into the house, finished preparing dinner, then sat with my family to eat. When we were done there was the usual kitchen clean up, then back to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes. It was at that point that Abel asked, "are you feeling sad?"

My children know my moods very well. They are also very protective of me since Michael died. They have seen me at my worst, especially those early days when I would be down on the ground crying with no end. Those severe days of grieving are far behind me, but what continues are the various layers that continue to be experienced. Sometimes those days of sadness are clear to me, and I can pin point the reason. Other times my sadness goes unrecognized by me or others. Yet, my sadness is always clear to my children.

No dear, why are you asking if I am sad?

"Arianne said you looked sad tonight."

I responded that I just had many things on my mind, and was likely preoccupied with many concerns. I told Abel not to worry, yet he still put his arms around me to show that he cared, and that I had someone there to support me.

What came to mind wasn't whether or not I was truly sad, but how much all this loss has affected each of us. Driving home yesterday my son Remy was talking about how the kids as school joke about things. He said they often play a game where they call out that someone has died. Remy said that while he gets that they are just playing, and that they obviously have not been touched so closely by death. He said that if they knew what it was like to have their father die they would be less likely to find this type of humor funny.

Death has greatly impacted my family. Death has brought each of us a deeper sorrow than we had ever experienced before, even through the death of many extended family members. When death comes to your door, and takes someone from their bed at home, you are never quite the same.

I don't think I was sad. I think my daughter recognized a pattern of behavioral responses by me, and attributed them to sadness. I believe it will take some time before my kids see me with a host of expressions and moods, and not connect them to grief. Loss has been with our family since my children's birth mother was taken away by circumstance, and then by death. Loss has been with us since Michael was diagnosed with a brain tumor, and then by death.

Loss is being experienced by us with a new person in my life, who is now sharing a space in my heart with Michael. Yes, even with the joy that Abel brings me I am always aware that his presence is because Michael was taken. Even though the kids see how happy Abel makes me, they experience loss by seeing a new man occupy the space in our lives that Michael used to occupy.

No, today I am not sad.

Breathe Me

I remember this night well.

Holding him.

Reassuring him of my love.

Making sure he was not in pain.

Kissing him.

Telling him how much I loved him.

Not allowing myself to sleep.

Not allowing myself to turn my focus off him for one second.

Knowing it was a matter of hours.

Loving him.

Loving him.

Loving him.

It went this way throughout the night. Remy laid there next to me. Michael to my right, Remy holding on to me to my left. 3am arrived, and it was announced by Michael significant change in breathing. It was so strong that Remy woke from his sleep, and was crying in fear. I told him to go sleep with his sister. I went to awake Michael's mother. I told her the time was coming soon.

Barbara and I cradled him between us. She laying at his side. I holding his face in my hands. For hours, I sat there staring into his face. This went on for another few hours. 6am arrived with another undeniable change in his breathing. I woke Barbara up, and told her he would be leaving us soon. We held him tight. I told him that we would be fine, and again told him that I loved him over and over again.

6:05 am, those last breaths arrived, I pressed my mouth to his. I wasn't going to allow those last breaths of his air to float into the air around me. What if his soul left his body through his breath? This was the last piece of Michael, his spirit, to be present with me in this world.

My mouth to his. His final breath arrived. With a deep breath in, his last breath entered my body. I didn't breath for that moment. I wanted each of those molecules to find a permanent resting place within me. Once I felt sure of this, I breathed for the two of us for the first time.

I was alone. He was gone.

Somehow I ended upstairs on the kitchen floor, and the world, all matter and space came crashing down. The walls shook, and the animal within me howled. I awoke the whole household. My kids came running toward me, and we all laid there on the floor together, without him.

Somehow there is beauty in all this pain. I don't want to ever forget those moments. I know that are only but a few brief moments in the life that I have lived thus far, but they are moments that define my existence today.

I lived a life for so long into my adulthood not knowing that which I was missing out on. Then I met Michael, and I knew that my life would never be the same.

I knew love. I knew the power of love. I knew the honor of loving a man with passion and desire. I knew the honor of caring for a man who needed me, and fighting with all my might to keep him alive. I knew the honor of keeping a man focused on the joy of life in the midst of hardship. And I knew the honor of walking with a man toward his death, with peace, love and dignity.

I bathed him. I dressed him. I held him. And, waited.




Today many of you honored me with your presence and support. I love you all dearly for that. Michael loves you all dearly for that. I know in my heart that he doesn't want to ever think of me as being completely alone. Each of you carry out his desire to be there for me.

I thank you. He thanks you.

Michael

Tonight I needed something different. I have been feeling so down today, and really looked forward to coming home from work so that I could lay down and give in to my emotions. Being that I come home to my kids, and various pets, my plan didn't go exactly as planned, but I did eventually have the opportunity to enter my bedroom, and close the door behind me.

I needed to get in touch with why I am feeling so down. The tears came naturally, but I sensed there were reasons ingrained in my soul as to why I needed this time to acquiesce. After laying quietly on my bed I turned to a book on my shelf. It was sitting right below Michael's urn, which at the time was being cradled by my hands. It was a book called Michael's Journey, a printed version of my Caring Bridge blog from our journey through cancer. I have not looked at this since Michael died. I didn't have the strength of heart to go there, yet today I knew it was what I needed.

I turned to the entries that were dated around this time two years ago. It was a time when we were heading into Michael's final days. My words were quite straight forward in that I needed to quickly inform our friends and family about the progression of Michael's tumor. My words were also inspired by the love I had for Michael, and for the gentle ways he was still communicating his love for me. I laid there reading each entry, taking time to soak in each word with purpose. I kept reading until I got to that final day when I needed to let everyone know that he had departed.

Surprisingly, these words are giving me comfort right now. Yes, they were hard to read, and brought back emotions from a very intense period in our journey together. Yet, they provided me with the answers I was looking for tonight. I needed to know why my body and soul are struggling with such despair.

I went through so much during those days. How could I not find myself reliving those emotions during this time of year? I was living in the final days of almost two years of struggle. I was working overtime to care for my dying husband. And, I was taking in each moment, knowing that it could be our last moment together.

As many of you know, Michael lived on for almost another month from this time two years ago. It was both horrific and endearing. I was in pain, and filled with immense love. I was on overload. No wonder my heart has been feeling so heavy.

I think back on that time period now, and feel so blessed to be the one to care for Michael in his final days. I feel like I was somehow chosen to help prepare him to exit this world, and to send him off knowing that he was loved with all my heart. I can still picture his trusting face, and his eyes that would follow my every move at that time. He surrendered all to me, knowing that I would give him all that he needed. I surrendered to him, knowing that he would always be there for me.

I am a very fortunate man. I found love, and love found me. It came in the form of Michael. The sweetest man I've ever know.

A Special Day

Five years ago. Standing in the middle of a nightclub, listening to the pulsating music. An awkward tall guy came up to me, "If you don't start moving you hips people will think you are straight." I smile, even laugh a bit, and he moved back across the room.

It takes me a couple of more songs to realize that this was the guy's lame attempt at flirting with me. I seen him standing by the dance floor, looking my way. I smile again, walk across the floor, and say, "Well, I don't see you dancing either."

Well, as the old saying goes, we danced the night away, and never stopped.

Michael and I loved to dance, and we loved to flirt with each other. We hired a dance instructor to help us choreograph our "first dance" at our wedding, and there were many nights when we danced to his favorite Bette Midler song in our kitchen. These are all such precious memories.

This was the night that we always celebrated as our anniversary. We would always go out for a romantic dinner together. My favorite evening was one spent at a cute little french restaurant the Michael was eager to try. It had about seven courses, each with a special wine pairing. This was the year before his tumor arrived. There wasn't much that I enjoyed on the menu, but Michael was so enjoying his meal, and wine, that I just smiled and laughed throughout the whole evening. He was like a child in a candy store.

Michael loved nice things, and enjoyed "doing it up." I enjoyed "doing him." Okay, probably too much information.

Remembering this day, and it's significance, makes me feel good. I'm in a good place right now, and I'm feeling like all signs are telling me to keep taking big steps forward. I'm determined, and committed, to living the life that Michael wanted for me. One where I am happy, and one where I am loved.

Here's Looking At You.

I’m sitting here next to my mother’s bed while she sleeps. It’s nice to see her sleep, as when she is awake she is just in pain. Earlier when she was awake I asked if she heard the doctor earlier, who was talking to me about her possible discharge. They can’t seem to find any medication that takes the headache away for more then 10 to 15 minutes. They have used up all of their arsenal, and feel that it is time for her to be at home, where she basically has all the same medications.

My mother turned to me to ask what I was giving Mike when he was at home. It was a question that surprised me, as other than remembering to tell how much they miss him, my parents don’t often ask too many questions about what those days of hospice were like. I let her know that he had various medications that would calm him, but mainly I was giving him high doses of morphine. She has her own supply of morphine at home, but the goal with the medication is very different. I explained to her that the goal with her is to reduce pain so she can get through each day as best as possible, and the goal with Michael was to keep him sedated, as he would otherwise have been suffering not just from the pain, but that he was no longer able to swallow, and I had to keep him from getting agitated. She nodded in an understanding way.

After she fell back asleep, I pulled out my laptop, and started going through all of our pictures. I haven’t done this in awhile, as it usually just brings me too much pain. But having my mother ask me that question earlier made me realize that those were still some very special and loving time. Death is difficult yes, but it can also encompass so much beauty. I really miss taking care of him.



Michael and I were very fortunate, that in our short time together we were able to do a lot of traveling. We went on many local weekends away, as well as many larger vacations. Some were with the kids, or with family and friends, but mostly it was just the two of us. We traveled very well together. We are both very easy going people, and besides, I just let him take the lead in planning each of our days. As I look at the photos that span from a couple of months of knowing each other, to a few months before his death. Each is filled with such love and joy. I particularly love to see photos that I took of him, or that he took of me. In these I am able to see him looking directly at me. I can see the love and delight in his beautiful eyes. In looking at the photos of me looking at him, I see the happiness that I never had before experienced. My kids, and my parents, always told Michael that they had never seen me as happy as I was with him. The photos of me looking at him clearly illustrate this.

It’s nice to look back at these photos and feel joy. I’m sitting here with a smile on my face and a bit of a giggle when I see one of us being goofy for the other. Some of those photos were when we had what I call our innocent days, which were prior to cancer. We had nothing but time ahead of us, and we were carving out a future that seemed without limits. I then look at the photos of us post cancer, and that same joy is still present. It serves as a reminder that even in the thick of facing his illness, and our limited time together; we never let it take from the joy we felt with being in each other’s company.

I must admit, although I am still not quite the same, meaning I walk through my world feeling quite depressed, I am changing. I am slowly allowing those memories that for awhile made me feel cheated, to now begin to remind me of how lucky I have been.

A Good Day

My day at work went well. It was a very busy, but quiet day. In the late afternoon my daughter called to let me know that she was bringing over dinner, and a birthday cake, to celebrate Michael's birthday.

I love my daughter, and am so grateful that she chooses to always commemorate the important dates that mean so much to me.

We had dinner, talked about Michael, then sang happy birthday to him. Even our two dogs, Ranger and Fido, got in on the act. I think they thought it was their birthday. I picked up Fido so he could help blow out the candles. Some have commented in the past that perhaps Fido is Michael reincarnated. After all, he did arrive the day after the first anniversary of Michael's death. I told the kids Fido could help blow out the candles just in case he is Michael, but that I highly doubt that Michael would be pleased coming back as a Chihuahua. Then I did have to admit that Fido loves to be spooned at night, just like Michael. This gave us all a good laugh.

After dropping off my daughter back at her home, I stopped by the store to buy Michael some flowers. I placed them by his urn, and lit two candles. I stood there talking to him, reminding him of my love. I then came out to the kitchen, poured me a vodka and pomegranate drink, and sat to write. I did for a moment think that the Margo would recommend coke with my vodka, but I'll save that for the next time I sit and have a drink with her.

My daughter commented that I appear to be doing much better recently. I explained that I do feel a change in the last couple of days. I think having my parents around this weekend really helped to boost my feelings. Celebrating Michael's birthday was also a reminder about how blessed I was to have him in my life. I won't lie and say I didn't shed some tears today, but it's all good.

If nothing else, I can say I truly knew love during my lifetime.

Birthday Celebrations.

Michael loved celebrating his birthday. There couldn't be enough celebrating according to him. This photo was taken in 2008, after spending three months recuperating from brain surgery, and completing his first round of chemo and radiation therapy. This particular birthday was celebrated with the kids and I on January 16th, 2008. The next day Michael and I went away for a needed weekend together in Napa, California. We spent two nights are a beautiful Inn. We had a room with a huge bed that was placed in front of an even bigger fire place. In the next room was a wonderful jacuzzi tub for two. We went out for a delicious dinner, followed by a casual evening walk, then back to our room for a bath. I remember laying in bed that night, cozy, feeling loved, and loving and appreciating the gift that he was to me. It was one of many great memories I have with Michael.

So romantic. So perfect.



Dearest Michael,

Happy birthday my love. This is the second year that I will be celebrating your birthday without you. Know that you remain in my heart. With every breath I breathe, I do so for both of us. We had many dreams together, some realized, some yet to be completed. I will do my best to make you proud. I will remember, and channel, your loving patience when I feel that I have none to draw on. I will remember your beautiful eyes, and the smile that made me melt. Those images will keep me safe from all my fears. I will remember the feeling of holding you in my arms, and the way you always rested so securely against my chest. I had never felt such love before meeting you. Thank you for all that you shared with me. Thank you for staying close to me during this difficult time without you. Thanks for holding me safely through each night. I carry your last breath within me, and I will never let it go.

All my love. All my appreciation

Your husband.

Dan

Michael

This is a photo taken by Michael's best friend, Craig, when they were visiting Easter Island. It is exactly how I like to picture Michael.

Sitting on a beach,

basking in the sun,

at peace,

with an inner joy coming through.

6:05 AM

I don't know what to do with myself. The deep sorrow has arrived, and I don't want to turn it away.

I sat here and read the medication journal that I kept during Michael's last two weeks. In the margin I made notes about what he was experiencing. Whether he was calm, or agitated. Whether he was sleeping, or groaning. Whether his breathing was steady, or if he had the death rattle.

I apologize, this may not be something that others want to read. I may choose to post this, or I may choose to delete it. I don't know. How am I supposed to know what to do all the time?

In reading my notes from last year I was wishing I had the presence of mind to write more about when he would awaken, or look for me, or reach out for me. Those things happened, but at what time?

I know this probably sounds so agonizing, and that I am just putting myself to needless pain. But that's not how I see this. I feel like I owe it to Michael to walk through this once again. I want to remember how his last days, and his last hours, went. I don't want to allow myself to forget those difficult details, as they were difficult realities that he had to endure. I see in my notes how I panicked at one point, and called the nurse. Michael was very agitated, and I needed someone to tell me how to relieve him of his pain. I needed to hear a voice tell me that everything, and anything, I do for him now is okay.

Although I am writing this just after midnight, I will be time stamping it for 6:05 am. On this night last year it was clear to me that Michael was leaving me. My son Remy wanted to sleep in the room with Michael and I, and I laid in the middle, trying to hold on to each of them. Around 3am Michael's breathing took a significant turn. This woke Remy up, and he realized he could not stay in the room. He was scared and began to cry. I sent him upstairs to sleep with my daughter. I then went to awaken Michael's mother, and let her know that he was beginning to leave us. She joined me in our bedroom, and laid beside her son. Each of us held on to one of his hands, and we didn't let go for three hours. I didn't allow myself to sleep. I sat there, looking into his face, kissing him, and speaking quietly to him.

At 6:05 am Michael took his last breath. I put my mouth to his to kiss him goodbye. When he let out his last breath, I took it in.

For just a few seconds, the world was completely silent. I didn't hear a thing. No sound came from me. Then suddenly, without missing a beat, two years of anguish came pouring out of my soul. My heart became brittle, and began to shatter. I found myself on the floor, with my kids arms all around me.

That was the beginning of my journey alone. And as I sit here preparing for my vigil, I know that I am not completely alone. There are many on this journey with me. It can be dark and lonely, but there is always a hand reaching out to me when ever I need it.

That is the blessing that I can take with me as this first year comes to an end.

Thank you.

Message to Michael

Dearest Michael,

I have been feeling the need to talk to you all day. The past few days, especially today, I have felt that I am just biding my time, allowing the hours to pass without any real focus. I am back to where I don't see the point in doing much.

In all honesty I can't say that I have been unproductive, as I got both boys enrolled in school, and have them both ready for school to begin next week. I am looking forward for them to begin school, as they both could use the opportunity to begin making new friends here in our new community.

I too will be making a new start in a couple of weeks. I was offered, and accepted, a new job today. I'm feeling really good about this opportunity, as it gives me the complete break from the type of social work I used to do, and brings me back full circle to what I was doing prior to moving to San Francisco 25 years ago. I will be working for the Regional Center Program, providing services for the developmentally delayed. It feels good coming back to this type of work with now so many years of added experience. The agency is very excited about my joining them, and have a plan in place for how they can best utilize my skills. I won't be making anywhere near the amount of money I used to, but I am hoping that the new work environment will help to continue creating a lifestyle where I feel calmer, and at peace.

Arianne is doing very well in her program. I feel like she is making the needed adjustments to not living at home, and is becoming more and more open to the new experiences that living in a community of women can bring to her. I think you would be very pleased with the progress she is making. In fact, I know you would be very proud of her. As I write this I can picture the way you would be looking at her, and telling her how proud you are. It brings me to tears thinking about this.

Michael, I miss you so much. My body is hurting right now, needing some part of you to hold onto. Tonight at yoga I arrived a bit late, and didn't have the time to greet anyone, or to look around the room at the guys that were present. Once we were all moving in sync I realized that there were many new faces in the group. I was trying to stay focused on myself, and focus on my breathing. As I moved into the various poses I began to sense that the person to my left was having some kind of effect on me. At one point we were instructed to turn our gaze to our left, and I immediately understood why I was feeling pulled toward this person. He didn't look anything like you, but he had your build and skin color. As he moved, I could see your movements. When he flexed I could see your muscles stretching and relaxing. I tried to distance myself from this observation, but I was weak, and kept finding my gaze returning to him.

This made me ache for you all the more. I'm finding that as time goes forward I am able to intellectualize what has happened to us. I understand death, and know that it touches all of us at some point. In a way understand that you had to die. We knew that it was coming for two years. We talked about it, and we prepared for it. During those years we loved each other madly. We held each other close every night. We made love as often as we could, and when your health took that away from us, we made sure that each touch was purposeful. I loved the touch of your skin, and how all the little hairs would stand up when my hand grazed across you. I loved your furry chest, and smoothness of your shaved head. I loved your scent, even when you put on far too much cologne. I loved the devilish look in your eyes, and the desire that spoke through them.

Michael, I know this is leading me to a dark place. I know that giving in to these thoughts, and acknowledging my own desires will only bring me pain. I know that I cannot seem to stop myself from wanting you. It goes beyond logic, and enters into the memories that are imprinted on my skin. Nothing really gives me pleasure any more. I desire to be touched, but know that it is the touch of your hands that I need. What do I do? Where do I turn?

I often worry that these needs will eventually cause me to either implode or explode. Do I close myself off from the world, and learn to not need, or desire, anyone else? Do I go off searching for someone else to fill that need? I sometimes worry that my depth of pain and desire will lead me to such extremes. Do I isolate myself, or do I become completely promiscuous? I know that most will say I don't have to go in one way or the other, but life has felt so extreme these past few years, so why change that now?

I wonder where you are, and what you are doing. I wonder if there is a place, or if there is a state of being for you. I wonder if you see me, or even still have a connection to me and this world. I know that I will never know, and will likely come to a point of just defining that which brings me the most peace of mind. It's crazy how we that are left behind are each inventing our own sense of afterlife. We each are out here trying to define what will work for us, creating our own individual reality.

I feel like I could keep writing to you, talking to you, way into the night. After all, isn't that what I do every night anyway? I sit, I stare, I wait. I can call it whatever suits me at each moment, but I know that it is always you. I sit with you. I stare into what used to be our reality, and I wait for a sign that the wind is changing.

Could I have one moment back? Could I have one visit? It could be as simple as feeling your breath against my face. It could be as quiet as hearing the air move in and out of your lungs. It could be as gentle as your heartbeat resounding with mine. Am I asking for too much? Probably.

I shouldn't be asking you for these things. If you are hearing my requests then I am only causing you distress. I don't mean to do this. I don't want you hurting because you cannot deliver upon my requests. I'm sorry.

Michael you gave me plenty in the short time that we had. Perhaps I should stop referring to our time as short, as that seems to minimze all that we had, and all that you gave me. I know that I was fortunate. I was blessed. Don't worry about me. I'll adjust. You were a wonderful husband, and a beautiful lover. Remember how you used to look at me and say, "I'm a lucky man." Well, Michael, the truth is, I was the lucky man.

I am yours.

Dan

Message to Michael

Dearest Michael,

It has been 345 days since you left this earth. It's been the same amount of nights since you have slept in our bed. And, it took 345 nights before you came to me in my dreams.

I have often wondered why I hadn't dreamt of you. I have been telling myself that it is because I need to keep moving forward, and to dream of you, might just set me back. I worried that if I was somehow capable of conjuring you up in my dreams, along with the perfect scenario, then I would want to sleep all the time. You know that is a very strange thought coming from me, the person that rarely sleeps.

In our years together, I spent a good part of it, sitting up and watching you sleep. You were always so peaceful. Now I can't say that I always liked that I was wide awake, while you were off in dreamland. There were the occasional nights that I would 'accidentally' wake you up. Oh, I'm sorry dear, were you asleep? But then I always made it worth your time, and attention, to be wakened from your sleep. At least, you never complained.

Well, last night was the night you appeared. We were living in a very large loft sort of building. People were arriving from all over the world. Everyone was so excited, and they were all trying to get settled into their spaces, or rooms. We were all preparing for a big event. You were asleep in our bedroom, but once in awhile you would come out to check on things. I would stop what I was doing with everyone else, and quickly go to you. You were rather advanced into the late stages of your brain tumor, and were not too steady on your feet, but you didn't seem to realize this. You wanted so much to help out with the festivities, but I had to remind you to take care of yourself, and keep rested.

At that point my dream seemed to shift to a slightly different scenario. It was as though I was watching a different story unfold. There were these women, who seemed to be from a Middle Eastern country. They were helping one of the women find her child. He had been missing for quite some time. For some reason, the reality of him being missing had always been accepted, then at some point the mother decided she really needed to know the fate of her young son. The other women traveled with her to try to seek out this child in the country that she was originally from. They met with so many people, and looked at so many children, but the woman never recognized any of them as her child. In the end the women decided that it wasn't meant to be, so they gathered all around the mother, and gave her comfort. All of the women, but one, returned home with the mother. They helped her move on with her life, and helped her adapt to the reality that she may never know the true fate of her child. The woman who remained behind chose to keep looking for the missing child, only her search took on a different direction. She began talking to the men in the village, and tried to get to know who among them were either alone, or widowed. In talking to each of these men, she learned so much about their inherent loneliness. Eventually this woman came across a man who said he was caring for his son, and that the mother of his child had been missing for quite some time. Without truly knowing if this was the child the mother was searching for, the woman suggested to the man that perhaps he should begin his life anew in the country where she lived. She let him know where this was, and left him to decide for himself. The woman returned home, and picked up with the other women where they had left off. Some days went by, and one morning, a child appeared on the shore. In the distance was the father, who was wading in the water. The mother, who had all but given up on finding her son, saw this child standing at the shore. For some reason she felt drawn to him. As she walked toward the child she was filled with immense love. As she approached the child, the man took notice, and began walking toward her. Their eyes captured each other's gaze, and then both turned to the child.

At that point, Michael, the dream turned back to you. The same woman who brought these people together was also present in your part of the dream. She was decorating a banquet room for a big gathering. As I was helping her, I realized that what we were doing was preparing a big goodbye dinner for you. I was filled with so much love and appreciation. There were beautiful flowers, full of rich colors, on every table. People were beginning to mull around, so I started walking back toward our room. Again, you were walking out on your own, but obviously needing some help. I walked up to you, and you had a very child like innocent look on your face. I wasn't sure if you recognized me as your husband, or just as someone who took care of you. I put my arms around you, and held you tight. I remember breathing in your scent, and moving my face right next to yours. You looked into my eyes with a realization that this was your going away party, and that you would be dying soon. You didn't seem scared, although you did seem quite tired. People were walking by us, and as they did they would reach out to touch you, or to whisper soft sentiments in your ear. I could feel that my heart was filling with so much love. I knew that in your heart, you were happy. I could see the light of joy in your eyes.

At that point I woke up. I realized that it was very late in the morning, and I had a splitting headache. I felt like I had been asleep forever. The headache took my focus away from the fact that I had finally found you in a dream. As the day has gone by, I have been feeling something coming over me. I didn't know what it was, but slowly, and piece by piece, I have been remembering. As I prepared to return to our bed tonight, the realization of the dream came through. This is why I have been feeling so much emotion today. This is why I needed a day of sitting, thinking and feeling. It wasn't until I returned home from yoga that I had the ability to let go, and allow the memory of this dream rise above to my consciousness.

You know dear, I love you more today than even before you left. Is that possible? I am losing my breath just thinking of you. Tears are welling up in my eyes, and falling upon my face. My skin needs to meet with yours, and yet I know that is not possible.

Help me to be strong.

I need to survive the night.

The Power of the Stitch

Have you ever met someone who just happens to have a natural gift? Have you ever attended a revival, and watched as a healer goes through the crowd, healing what ails them? Well, call me a sceptic, as I have a problem with the notion that some people have some super power that other's don't. I'm not saying I completely dismiss the idea, I'm just saying that I need to see it with my own eyes to believe.

Today I became a true believer, in the power of the stitch.

I have often heard the proverb "A Stitch In Time Saves Nine." But what does it actually mean? Well, I went to my favorite source, Wikipedia. The moral of the proverb is that it's best to fix problems soon after they are discovered so that they don't grow into larger problems that will require a lot more effort to fix. in literal terms...mend it now before it drops to bits, it is better to deal with the problem now before it gets too bad it means that to take the time/expense to do something right initially will save you time/expense later. Here is another way of looking at this. Think of a small rip in a stitched seam. If one were to restitch the hole in the seam while it is small, it won't take nearly as much effort as when the hole has time to work itself into a larger hole.

Now, when I talk about the power of the stitch, I am referring to the healing power that comes through the artisans hands. That healing power touches our heart, and changes us. The power of the stitch is so strong, that it can lift our heavy spirits.

The artist that I am speaking of today is none other than Woman N Shadows. Many of you may not be aware of the wonderful gifts that she has. She is not only creative in words and pictures, but she is a talented artist, who creates beautiful quilts, and other textile art. The website for her work is called Renaissance Artist. Please check it out.





If I get back to the proverb, "A Stitch in time..." It reminds me of how we work through our grief. I can't speak for others, only for myself when I say that we must go through it, intense and painful feelings and all. If we try to run and hide from our pain, it will only intensify later. What doesn't get lived through today, may be nine times more difficult to plow through another day. And while we are going through this healing process, we need to look for ways of feeling comforted. If your loss is your spouse, then this is very difficult, as they were the person you likely turned to. I know that for myself, I still look for ways that Michael can comfort me through the sad and painful days. As I have said in the past, I have come to wear his shirts and pajamas as a way of feeling close to him. I still have my favorite of his suit, shirt and tie, hanging in the closet. When I am feeling engulfed in my grief, all I need to do is walk over to the closet and hold this things in my arms.

I was first introduced to the idea of a memory quilt from one of the women in the bereavement group I participated in last fall. Since then I had thought that I would one day have a quilt made with some of Michael's clothing. Initially I thought the quilt would be for me, but later I decided that the person who needed it most was Michael's mother. She loved Michael with all her heart. He brought her so much pride and joy over the years. Having him gone has been devastating for her. Because it has somewhat become part of my role now to see that she, and the rest of his family, are doing well, I wanted to have this quilt made for her.

My friend, Woman N Shadows, created not only a work of art, but a piecing of Michael, all stitched together to bring comfort. Her process was full of dedication and love. She wanted to know who this man was who wore these clothes. She wanted to know why these particular items were chosen. And then, she asked what words would best bring out Michael's voice.




In the months prior to Michael dying, I encouraged him to write a letter to his mother saying those things that often go unmentioned. I told him how important it would be for her to be able to read his words, over and over again. I knew that she would need these affirmations from her son. These words of Michael's can be found stitched into this quilt.

So, do I believe in healers. You bet your sweet ass I do. wNs is a healer with her art. She has chosen a medium that allows those of us who grieve to find comfort in these tangible items of clothing. They are carefully stitched together, often with delicate threads. How appropriate a memory quilt is, as we who mourn often feel like our lives have completely come undone. Each of us then goes about our days, trying to stitch ourselves back together. As we do this we quickly realize that the finished product will not look, or feel, the same. We are now changed.

These pieces of clothing, that were worn for this occasion, or for that occasion, are now forever stitched together to form a blanket of warmth and comfort, and to provide healing through our memories.

Thank you Woman N Shadows, you do beautiful work.

Message to Michael

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.
Originally uploaded by Spencer Finnley

Dearest Michael,

It's been some time since I addressed you through this blog. I don't know if you have a sense of the living, but if you do, then you know my heart is still pining for you. I visited with you mother yesterday, and she is still hurting so much. You made such an impact on all of us, and now we are all left to mourn you until the day we leave this earth as well.

I am busy making some changes in my life. I am not leaving you behind, as I carry you with me every minute of the day. I am trying, and learning, to accept that you are gone. Even with all the pain I have endured, it still doesn't seem real. I keep expecting to see you walk into our bedroom. When I wake up I still loo for you. While I sleep my arm is still searching for you.

You know Michael, you gave me something I never thought I would have. True love. Our relationship was full of all the qualities I wanted, infused with passion. For so long I felt like I was not fully experiencing life as others did. I had many good things in my life, but I didn't have that one person to feel such passion for. What we had was not a fairy tale. It was real. I love all that we had. The love making, the arguments, the family issues, the travel, and even your illness. If there was some kind of divine intervention at play in bringing us together, then I should be offering my thanks. You gave me so much, even until the very end.

I have no regrets. I feel so blessed to be chosen to take care of you, and to help make your passage from this world a loving and peaceful one. I hope you were not scared, as there were some scary moments for me. It was hard to know how much you were aware of in the end. You should know that I never slept. I never let go of you, and our lips were locked when you took your last breathe. I like to think that I still carry part of you within me. I purposefully took a deep breath in so that all of your last breath became part of me. Please know that I will continue to live in a way that was important to you. I will live a life of integrity, and compassion for others. I will remember to keep a smile on my face, and keep a twinkle in my eye that is yours.

I will make sure that all of our kids, the Cano's and the Lowries, always know what a wonderful person you were. I will guide them in a way that you would have wanted to do. I will encourage them to seek education, and to share their knowledge with others. I will do my best at retelling some of your wonderful stories, even if they have heard them hundreds of times before. They will all grow up knowing you, and appreciating the impact you had on my life, and theirs.

My heart is yours Michael. You were a wonderful husband, and I feel so blessed that we were able to exchange our vows in front of all the people we love. That day will always be one of the best in my life.

Be at peace my love.


Yours. Dan

Packing Our Memories

Moving Boxes with Quito
Originally uploaded by furbird designs

Today was quite a productive day. It started out a bit slow, which was nice. My cousin and I spent the morning watching the beginning of the televised San Francisco Gay Pride Parade. I suppose we were not very good gays, as we never left the couch, nor did we wave any flags. I did have some nice brief conversations with a couple of my lesbian neighbors. Does that count? I think the big gay in the sky will forgive me, as while I am Out, and proud, my mind is on other things this year. Actually last year was not much different, as Michael was not doing well enough to be out watching parades, or participating in any kind of celebrations.

My cousin left with Michael's car around noon, and I turned off the television and got to work. I did some paint touch up in the front of my home, then re stained a bench that sits out front by my front stairs. After that I was driving to Lowes, trying to find a replacement pump for my backyard fountain, but instead bought a bunch of flowers to do some re potting. It was a very windy day, so not exactly the best of weather to be planting flowers. I wanted to give my house a freshening up, some curb appeal. The Realtors are coming by tomorrow afternoon to go over the detailed plan for selling my home. I then moved back into the house, and began packing everything left on our bookshelves in the living room and dining room.

I know that I still have three weeks before I pack up the house, but I wanted to get used to what the house will look like when it is bare. I was boxing up many of our small treasures that we have collected in our time together. Some of them I had before meeting Michael, and some are from his past travels as well. I wrapped each piece carefully in paper, then kind of lovingly placed them into boxes. This gave me the opportunity to appreciate each item, and to think back to what each item meant to us. Rather than feel sad about our possessions being packed away, I feel good knowing that they are safely placed into these boxes for our move. I know where they are at, which is quite comforting. I then moved to the many pictures we have framed, and hanging on our walls. I took down all of our family photos, but left of some less personal framed photos. I wanted the Realtors to get a feel for the house sans our personal affects.

I took a break to get dinner for the boys, but then returned to my tasks at hand. By now the house looked quite dusty, so I did a thorough cleaning, removing all rugs from the floor, and taking out any nonessential pieces of furniture. I'm really going to sparse if you haven't noticed. The last thing I will work on will be our bedroom. While I have already placed our books in boxes, I don't want to change too much about our bedroom for a couple of weeks. For one, I'm not quite sure I am ready to place all of our memories into boxes. With out them in our bedroom, it would feel like I was placing Michael into a box. And although I guess he is essentially in a box, I want to believe that all the little mementos that surround his urn brings him comfort.

I then got brave, and called Michael's mother for a check in. We haven't spoken on the phone for a few weeks actually. She filled me in on the Lowrie side of the family. She went to a baby shower for Michael's cousin, and said that everyone wanted to know how I was doing. I liked hearing that. I shared with her where I am with all of my plans, which I'm sure made her a bit sad. I reminded her that I wanted her and the girls to come down for a visit very soon, and that I would certainly be coming up to visit with her whenever I could. We made tentative plans for her to visit me during one of the next couple of weekends.

My daughter called tonight to tell me about her day. She had a really good day, and got to visit the local grocery store where the boys and I will be living. I like knowing that she was moving about our new neighborhood. She sound very homesick, but I reminded her that I would be down there in just three weeks. I think she will be fine.

This afternoon one of my neighbors walked over to talk with me while I was potting my flowers. She said that she has enjoyed watching the kids help me load up the car for our many trips to the storage unit. It made her happy to know that I had created the family I had spoke of wanting when I first moved into the neighborhood 17 years ago. I thought this was a sweet thing for her to take the time to share that with me. Of course in my mind I was telling myself that, yes, I do have the family I always wanted, but it is now missing an important person. I'm trying not to dwell on that right now, as it makes me very sad.

Oh how I wish this was the move that Michael and I planned many years ago. Ironically, my youngest brother and I both bought our houses at the same time 17 years ago. He and his wife are currently buying a new house as well. He has shared with me the many plans they have together for making their new house their home. Here I am, selling my house with a plan to buy a new one as well. And just like the last time, I will be buying it alone. It just doesn't seem fair. But my own words come back to bite me in the ass. "Who said life was fair?"

I can't allow myself to sink below the surface right now. I need to put some of those more vulnerable feelings into one of the boxes for packing. I will have plenty of time later to open it back up and feel what it is I need to feel. For now, I need to hold on to my strength so I can get through this upcoming transition.

Weary

I am sitting here drowning my sorrows in a loaf of Judy's Vegan Whole Wheat Breadsticks. It is my one vice. Yes, I am a bread junkie. This is my comfort food.

Today was a very long day. After work I picked up my youngest son to get him to his guitar lesson. While at the mall I decided to buy new phones for the kids, as two had lost theirs, and one had taken his for a swim during our spring vacation in San Diego. I was feeling generous, and needed to be able to reach them when I am at work. I also kind of saw this as a bit of a moving gift. They have all been such good sports about my desire to move to San Diego. I know they are each looking forward to the move, but I also know they are being very agreeable for my sake. I also know that as clues keep coming in that I will be offered the job very soon, they are worrying about saying goodbye to all of their friends.

Because of these after-work activities, I didn't get home tonight until close to 9pm. Since I left the house at 7:30am, it has been a very long day. After handing the kids their dinner, and phones, I came directly down to my bedroom. I knew what was coming, as I had been using a lot of emotional strength all evening to not break down in public. I laid down on my bed and unleashed the tears. There was no real reason for tonight's down pouring, I just needed a good cry. I feel so much better for doing so.

It's funny, today I was missing my wedding ring. Not missing as in misplaced it, but I was really feeling it's absence from my ring finger. What's also odd, is that I seem to miss it most when I am interacting with others. Some how I feel uneasy presenting myself as single, you know, without a wedding ring. I still don't feel single, but I'm also trying to get more comfortable not relying on putting out there that I am currently married. It's something that I am struggling with.

Earlier, when I first got home, I was lying across my bed. I think I was crying so strongly because I so desperately needed his arms around me. His touch has become so painfully absent from my life, and with time the absence gets felt almost stronger. I sometimes think that it gets easier in between my giving in to this need, but when I do allow the reality of his being gone to hit me, I feel it so much deeper. Now at almost 9 months out, I feel so much despair at the reality that he will never be back.

Tonight's pain is being experienced like an assault on my heart. I feel like I am being stabbed with a blunt knife, and the pain reverberates throughout my body. There is also a weariness about me. This is likely the reason I am feeling so vulnerable.

Weary of mind.

Weary of body.

Weary of soul.

Two Thousand

Cash register
Originally uploaded by M Skaffari

I am in need of some comic relief, but not necessarily in a funny mood. I was just looking back over my recent posts, and I can feel the collective weight of my emotions. I miss the days when I would use my wit, or sarcasm, to come up with some clever way of expressing myself. I'm going to have to start digging deep.

I remember a few years ago when Michael and I were spending a lot of time fixing up, and painting, his Aunt Nancy's home. She had been quite ill, and was in an out of the hospital. It felt good to go over there, work on the yard, or work in the house. Also during that time I had finally succumbed to all the pressure from Michael and the kids to get hearing aide, because I am partially deaf in my left ear. I met with the doctor to discuss my options. He had tested me many times over the years, and each time said it was up to me as to whether I chose to use a hearing aide. I explained that my family was tired of me misunderstanding everything they said, especially my partner. So we began looking at all the hearing aides available. I chose one on the high end, thinking it would last a long time, and because it provided different settings for various environments or activities. I paid the piper, and waited for the order to come in. That weekend we were back at Aunt Nancy's working in her dining room. Michael and I were painting, and were moving up and down ladders, painting and having an ongoing conversation with Aunt Nancy. At one point she and Michael were doing most of the talking, and she interrupted him to ask a question. "Michael, has anyone ever told you that you mumble too much?" Michael was aptly offended, and tried to puff out his chest to counter this ridiculous claim. I just laughed at their interaction. She wasn't satisfied with his response. "Michael, has Dan ever told you that he cannot hear you or understand what you are trying to say? You talk so softly all the time. I can barely understand anything you say!" Michael knew where this was headed and quickly looked away. I simply turned back toward him in a deadpan manner, "you owe me two thousand dollars."

Michael's Aunt Nancy died the day after his brain surgery in 2007. It was a bit of a turning point for his mother and I. We had just been through a horrific week of Michael's tests, brain surgery, and receiving the grim diagnosis, and the next thing we knew we were driving an hour away to be with his aunt who was dying in another hospital. There was nothing left for the doctors to do for Aunt Nancy, and it was time to make a decision to take her off the ventilator. That decision was put on Michael's mother, who in turn reached out for me. So there we were, holding Aunt Nancy's hands, nodding that it was time to turn the machines off, and standing there while the room fell silent. Michael should have been there. This was Michael's place in the family. He couldn't be there to fulfill his role as the responsible son and nephew, so there I was in his place. Michael and I were not yet married at the time, but that day I became a member of the family.

After Aunt Nancy died, and while Michael was home recuperating from his surgery, I would drive over the bridge each day to finish the painting we had started. Aunt Nancy was an animal lover, and had four cats and two dogs. Friends were trying to find homes for each of the pets, but three of the cats were still in the house. I had painted throughout the morning, and then went out for lunch. When I returned there were white paw prints across the table, down the chair, and across the freshly refinished wood floors. I was lookin to skin me a cat. When I found the guilty feline, I realized it was Carelli, Aunt Nancy's favorite cat. Meow. Carelli and I quickly became constant companions during that week. After a few days I came home with a request that Michael and the kids never would have expected from someone who is quite allergic to cats. I was smitten. We had to take him in.

For those of you who have been reading here since the early days, you may know Carelli by his alias, "The $2000.00 Cat."

Bay Area Brain Tumor Walk:

Bay Area Brain Tumor Walk:

I have decided to join Michael's friends and colleagues in the fundraising efforts of the National Brain Tumor Society. Anyone interested in donating can do so at my home fundraising home page. As you can see, this is a last minute decision on my part. I previously didn't feel ready to return for my third year of this event, as it will be my first since Michael died, but I decided to give myself a bit of a nudge.

Ocean Beach

Tonight the kids and I went to Dante's Jiu Jitsu class. Well, Dante went to his class, the rest of us wandered around while he was at his class. Arianne went walking down along the store fronts to talk on her phone. My youngest, Remy, and I walked over to Ocean Beach. He wanted us to go running, but I was wearing dress shoes from my morning at work. I stood by the sea wall, and watched the sun set while he ran around the beach.

For those of you unfamiliar with San Francisco, Ocean Beach is in the north west side of the city, where you find the Cliff House. It is one of those tourist destinations, a beautiful restaurant with beautiful views. It is also one of the places Michael and I considered for our wedding reception.

Ocean Beach was a favorite destination for Michael. He loved the beach. We would occasionally pack up a lunch, our books, and our youngest, Remy, for a day in the sun. It's a great spot for playing with your dog, running, or playing in sand. It's not the safest place for swimming, besides the water is awfully cold. I do remember one scorching hot day when Michael and Remy actually swam in the water. It was a wonderful afternoon. Michael and I had just started dating, and it was our third month anniversary. Yes, third month. When you first start dating, you look for every opportunity to celebrate with a romantic dinner. Ours was with Remy in tow. After an afternoon at the beach we went to Tommy's Mexican Restaurant, where they have killer margaritas. I remember sitting at the table, toasting to each other with our drinks, and Remy asking, "are you going to marry my Dad?"

We laughed, me feeling quite embarrassed. But I do remember us looking into each other's eyes with that certain twinkle. I felt so happy. That was almost four years ago. It's hard to believe that in only four years, we did get married, battled cancer, and said goodbye. Today was my first visit back to Ocean Beach since my last visit there with Michael this past summer. I stood there looking out at Remy running around the beach laughing and having fun. It was a scene played out many times before, but there was that one difference. Whenever we went to the beach I was the stick in the mud, who sat on the blanket reading a book while Michael and Remy played in the sand or water. Today was a good day to return. The weather was cool, but felt refreshing. The sun was setting, and it felt very peaceful. There were not a lot of people around, so I wasn't distracted from the sound of the waves crashing to the shore.

I looked out and spoke to Michael. "Here I am Dear." I immediately wished I had brought some of his ashes with me, but I hadn't really expected to find myself there today. Now that Dante wants to take this class everyday, I expect that we will be spending a lot more time at Ocean Beach. I promised Remy that I would bring my tennis shoes next time so that we can go running. When I do I will bring some of Michael's ashes, just a small handful. I'm slowly spreading a tiny bit of his ashes at our favorite places. A pinch of Michael here, and a pinch of Michael there. I'm wanting him to be one with the world. I'm wanting to know that he is blowing in the wind, and washing up on the shore.

As I stood there looking out at the beach I realized how lucky I was to live in such a beautiful place. I wondered why I didn't come there more often. I made a promise to Michael to go there more in the future, and to remember all the fun times we had. I looked out at Remy running around ridiculously, and reminded myself to make more time for play.


We got home, and Dante gave Remy and I a quick lesson in Jiu Jitsu. We wrestled, laughed and had a really fun time. Arianne just looked at us boys as if we had lost our minds. Once again, I reminded myself just how lucky I am.

Community

Community
Originally uploaded by niallkennedy

Today's entry will be quite short. I have had a very busy day at work, and home long enough to change my clothes, rush my son through his homework, and off to San Jose to watch a basketball game. It will likely be late when I return. If I still have any life left in me at that time I will write something with a bit more thought to it.

What I will share with you right now is that I am so thankful for my readers. If you have found me, then you are part of my circle of support. I will tell you that the circle includes people from around the world. I hope that in time each of you will leave a short message, or hit the "follow" button above this post. That will allow each of you to see who makes up with circle.

Each day that I write, I am sitting here at home amidst the chaos of kids and pets. Sometimes I am able to hide away down into my bedroom, where I have a bit more concentration. Which ever is the case at the time, I do just go deep inside myself, and try to get a sense of what is stirring within. Most days something comes to mind right away, and my typing begins.

When I have completed the days post, I send it off with positive energy, hoping that it reaches someone in need, or that someone will identify with my struggle, and by reading it will send their own healing energy my way. As most bloggers will tell you, we love to read comments. I, myself, also love to see the many visitors each day, and see where each of you are from. It helps me to not feel so alone.

Alone. It's kind of a funny thought for me, as I just mentioned, I am rarely alone here at home. But what I yearn for, what is missing from my life, is that interaction between myself and my spouse. He is no longer here, so I now look to others to help fill that vacancy. Each of you who visit my blog, and read my thoughts, share in filling that vacancy. We cannot all be with someone in person, as we once had, but we can reach out through cyber-space, and build a community.

It's time for me to hit the road. I would rather be putting my feet up and relaxing, but this is what you do for your kids.

Love to all.


Dan

The Book of Job

Broken Theme: Introduction to Job
Originally uploaded by JasonWick

Today I'm feeling a bit better than the last week. As my readers know, grief definitely has it's ups and downs. For me the past week I was in the downward slope, falling into a pit of self-pity. It's so easy to go there. What widow(er) doesn't feel like they didn't deserve what life (read God) served them with.

In my social circles (read workplace) I am what is commonly known as a nice guy. I'm polite, I'm optimistic, I help people, I was a single parent for many years, I was married to an equally nice guy...So what went wrong? Anyway back to my train of thought. My adult life has not been easy. Someone who knows of my life once said she thought of me as the biblical character 'Job.'

The Book of Job (the very unabridged, with little historic reference, version)

Job was a man of great faith in God. He had an unflinching ability to see God's presence in all people, and in all things. Job was also a man of great respect and admiration from those around him. To others, Job was seen as a man of great wealth. He owned lots of land, where he grew many plants, and which cared for all his animals. Job had a big house and a big family. He had a loving wife, who he adored, and many children of whom he was quite devoted to. With all the good things that God had provided him Job gave thanks. In spite of all this wealth Job was humble, and praised God for everything in life.

enter stage left: SATAN

Satan was angered that Job had so much faith in God, and decided that he would challenge him. Satan told God that he could get Job to turn away from him, that he could lose his faith. God knew this could not be true, but agreed to let Satan put him to the test. Satan caused terrible storms, fires and swarms of insects, that in effect took all of Jobs precious land from him. With this Job was very worried and dismayed, but he raised his hands up high and praised God for always being so generous, and thanked him for all that he had. Now this was not exactly the type of response that Satan was looking for. He was beginning to feel a bit spiteful, and needed to chart the next course of action. Satan looked to what Job had such love and devotion for, his children. Satan brought for horrific illness and disease that took the life of all of Jobs offspring. Job's heart was broken, his spirit felt beyond repair in his despair, and Satan felt for sure that he would now see Job turn away from God. To his surprise, Job got down on his knees and prayed to God for strength to continue (at least that's how I imagine it happening.). With that Satan struck down at the wife of Job, and she fell to her death. Job, who thought that life couldn't get much worse, had now found himself beyond his imagined limit, and learned that there was no limit to the depths of pain. Yet once again, Job could not be swayed away from his faith in God. With nothing left to take from Job but his own health, Satan bestowed upon him open sores and boils (okay, I'll stop with this).

So. This is what my life has been compared to?


"old and full of days"
Originally uploaded by Jenni Simmons

I have often thought of myself as a humble man. I enjoy life, have worked hard for the comforts I have, and tried to be of generous heart and spirit. As a boy I was affectionately known as "the choir boy" by my friends. I sang in the choir at church, and sang in the choir at school. I taught religion to children during my teens, and tried to be a good kid. Of course, I was working a bit overtime, trying to make up for the fact that I was a budding homosexual, but I somehow thought God understood. After being in college for a few years I decided to enter a Catholic seminary, and began my studies to become a priest. Yes, it's true. I was there only a few years, as I eventually fell in love with a fellow seminarian, and decided I needed to change the course of my life. I returned home, continued my education, worked some jobs, met nice people, was a good son, brother, friend, etc. I eventually found my way up to San Francisco for graduate studies in marriage and family therapy, did a lot of volunteer work, and started working as a child welfare social worker. A few years later I decided to adopt a child, then another child, then one more. My children ended up having significant emotional challenges due to family history (goes with the territory). I went through school programs, therapies, hospitalizations, in-home support services, taking leaves from work to attend school with my kids, and so on. Each phase of my life, in these parenting years, felt like more than I could, or should have to, handle. Yet I persevered. These were my children, I loved them, and I was going to do what ever I needed to do for them. In spite of these challenges I continued to attend church, send my kids for religious studies, continue to be a nice guy, treat clients with respect, and manage to always have a smile on my face.

So what was missing from my life? Come on people, not a hard question! Yes, that's it. I was missing another adult to share my life and love with.

enter stage right: Michael

Through out all of the above, I longed to be in a healthy, loving and committed relationship. Yet, who was going to love me with all my baggage? Who was going to see all of my baggage, and praise God?

Michael. To make a long story short, Michael. He was everything that I wanted, he was everything that I needed, and he was some of what I thought I could do without frankly. I loved him, and he loved me. Life was far from perfect, the kids made sure of that, but we were all very happy. We were a family. In good times and in bad.


So where does Job come in? Throughout each of these ordeals I have been able to maintain my faith in God. I have been able to feel one with the universe. I have been able to walk the path of Buddha. Seriously, I have continuously thanked God for all my blessings, and continued to ask for the strength to get through another of life's challenges. I have tried to look to the positive, and let the negatives fall by the wayside.

enter stage left: cancer

Again, life presents me with an unimaginable challenge. Michael and I face this together. He is diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor, and we are told that without a doubt this is what he will die from. I do everything I can to keep Michael alive, but in the end, modern science and my strong will, are no match for this disease. Michael dies.

Job

This post is not really about faith. It is about my spirit.

Is my spirit broken?

I feel like this is the million dollar question. And, it's a question that I need to sit with awhile, so I won't be answering it right now. What I will say is that life is always a challenge. Life sometimes give us what we want. Life sometimes gives us what we need. And, life sometimes takes it away.


The Book of Job
Originally uploaded by ninja IX

As an aside. About a year ago I was having a very difficult time. My daughter was presenting me with yet another of her challenging moments. Michael didn't respond the way I wanted, or needed at the time. I was also dealing with the fact that his tests were revealing further tumor growth. I felt that it was one of those moments in life when it can get no worse. Funny that I could still be so naive. But it was one of those Book of Job moments. I went down to my bedroom, cried, prayed, and bargained. In the end, I realized that the only change I could really effect was me. I needed to somehow find a sense of renewal. I needed to take a deep breath and get back up there and continue forward. Before I could do that I needed some kind of visual reminder of where I was at. As I looked around the bathroom I saw the electric shears, and that was it. I shaved my head. I decided that I needed the simplicity of mind and spirit in order to move forward. By shaving my hair off I would be telling the world, and reminding myself, that I was going through something significant. It would remove all vanity from my day to day life. I would put that energy into making things right, here at home.

That night, after shocking everyone in the house, I crawled into bed with Michael. I couldn't fall asleep, so for some odd reason I thought of the Book of Job. At that time I wasn't very familiar with the story, only knowing that a friend from work had made reference to my life and that of Job. I found the chapter, and began reading the story shared with you above. When I got to the end of the story, I was amazed.

Job, in utter pain, shaved his head, washed himself clean, and donned a new white robe, and lifting his hands up to the sky, sang God's praises and gave thanks for his life.

There was my answer. I needed to give thanks for what I had, and to once again ask for the grace to continue on.

The day after Michael's memorial, after the crowd left, and the kids were sent off to school, I once again found myself staring into the bathroom mirror with the shears in my hand.