“That’s the worst thing about death, that it happens over and over again. That the human body can cry forever.” –Fredrik Backman, My Friends
“The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him, ‘What are you going through?’” –Simone Weil
And so today’s moment of happiness despite the news.
There really won’t be a blog today. It’s a hard day today, and I’m cutting myself some slack. This hard day was expected, but it’s still at least as hard as expected, if not more so. But I felt the need to come in and say something, especially out of gratitude.
Today, it is exactly one year since Michael passed away. Since Michael died. Since Michael left me. Left us.
One year ago today, the actual time now passed us as I deliberately slept through it, my daughter Olivia and I stood by Michael’s side as he left. After years of reading books and watching movies that talked about the “death rattle”, I was more startled by the lack of it. Michael simply stopped, like a clock that winds down. I called for the nurse, said, “I think he’s gone,” when she came in, and she confirmed it. That was it. Quiet.
In a death that was anything but quiet. From the moment Michael was struck by the passenger van in downtown Milwaukee, struck and then run over, our world erupted into noise and chaos. There were five months between the “accident” and Michael’s death. They were horrible months, with the only good thing being that Michael was alive. Until, quietly, he wasn’t.
I decided to head for my favorite place in the world, Waldport, Oregon, on the Oregon coast, to be for the anniversary. I’ll be here for three weeks, mostly to sleep and write, walk by the ocean, sit on the deck and stare at the waves, the birds, the passing people, the colors of each sunset, and, for two of the weeks, be alone in a place where it’s normal for me to be alone. Where it doesn’t feel foreign. For the first week, Olivia came with me. She is in summer sessions at graduate school, so she can’t stay for the whole three weeks.
And today is the day. Hopefully, the last “first” of this whole awful time. The first holidays without him, the first birthdays, the first, the first, the first. I thought when we finally moved from 2024 to 2025, it would be better. Now, I hope that since this first year is over, I will be able to start looking ahead, and only glance behind when I am looking for comforting memories. Not being the cliché deer in headlights, looking at all the trauma.
But I mentioned gratitude, and this blog is about the Moment of Happiness. So I have to say, I am profoundly grateful for the support and love we’ve received. From the moment of the accident, when students, who were already gathered in the AllWriters’ classroom, waiting for Michael to show up for his class, stepped in to close up the classroom for me and lock the doors while I ran out of the house to get to Michael, to the students who left me lunch and dinner every day Michael was in the hospital and rehab, to the students who cleaned my home because I simply had no time, to everyone who stopped by to visit, to offer a reprieve for me, to hug and hold, to everyone who came to the Celebration of Life, and to everyone since who has forgiven me for the slips I’ve made in memory and stress and organization as I’ve gotten used to this new chapter, ohmygod, I am so grateful. I will never forget the student who stayed after class one day, just to say, “You’re doing just fine, Kathie.”
I’m doing my best. And while there are times I feel very alone, I also know that I’m not alone at all.
Thank you.
