Life Changes

I haven't posted anything for quite some time because July 29 I became self-employed. Since then I've been working my butt off! Some people ask why I decided to make a move to become a freelance editor. Much of it has to do with Michael. One lesson that his death taught me is to live my life for me. Why do we work like dogs for someone else for 30-40 years to save for this retirement that we're not even guaranteed to reach? I decided I'm going to work for myself and live and do what I want to do.

As a result, I hope to travel more because I can work wherever I have online access. I hope to visit friends and stay with them. I can work during the day when they're at work and then in the evenings spend time with them. I also want to go to Australia and Europe for extended trips.

Early on I've been working like a mad man because I wanted to make sure I had enough clients to keep me busy and pay my bills. I see that will be no problem. I would be remiss without saying that as grateful I am to have this experience, I'm definitely bittersweet because Michael's death allowed me this opportunity. With the life insurance policy, I haven't had to worry about paying bills while I've started my business.

Right now, as I write this, I pause. At this time exactly 11 months ago Michael died. I'm sitting in my office/spare bedroom and can look out into the landing and see the spot where he died. I've been able to find a new normalcy in life, but I also miss him terribly. Even after 11 months, I sometimes catch myself and have to remind myself that this isn't a bad dream. He is gone. I say a little prayer for him right now. I love you Michael.

Michael in 5-7-5 syllables

I turned on my phone.
The messages exploded
and upended life.


I never realized
how much I could truly miss
the sound of his laugh.

The room is silent
without his steady breathing
and his loud snoring.
 
The future holds an
uncertainty that offers
no quick solution.

His heart stopped beating
and my love wasn't enough
to keep him alive.

Plants and flowers grow
as testament to his green
thumb and nurturing.

Estate Closed -- And Paying Inheritance Taxes

This past week I met with my attorney and signed the final paperwork to close the estate and pay the estate taxes. It was a bittersweet moment signing my name and knowing that Michael really isn't coming back. The official legal aspect of his life is also over, which added a bit more closure to the process.

I also had to pay $1,900 in inheritance taxes. People wonder why gay and lesbian couples want marriage rights. Here is a perfect example. We spent nine years together, but our relationship wasn't legally recognized by the state of Indiana. I had to pay taxes on what I inherited from him, including half the value of the house, his IRA, and the few personal belongings he had. I basically say bullshit!! If my mom were to die, my dad wouldn't have to pay taxes on half the house or on his retirement benefits (and furthermore, she'd be entitled to his Social Security, which I'm not). 

I am not going to focus though on the negative. Michael and I planned ahead and thankfully had our wills and owned the house as joint rights of survivorship. I have a beautiful home with a showcase backyard with an incredible garden as well as thousands of memories as testament of our nine years together. I am so grateful.

Feeling Lonely

Working through my grief, and my counselor, Patrick, says I'm doing well. I feel okay many days, but I still have bouts of loneliness. I come home at night and wish the world that Michael would be here to welcome me home. In those moments I yearn for some human companionship.

It's going on nine months (about 10 days) since he died. I've noticed that most people have really gone on with their lives. I understand that's the reality of life, but I also feel sometimes like I've been left behind, as if life has gone on without me, and I'm stuck going through the motions of work and paying bills but not really feeling like I'm completely alive.

In this amount of time since his death, I've discovered some truths about myself. I have changed since he died, and I'm not the same person I was when we were together. His death has opened my eyes about people and what's really important in my life. I don't mean to sound judgmental, but I see how people act and respond to things that happen in life, and I realize more than ever what kind of energy I need in my life (and what kind of energy I don't).

I also have seen that not all the friends of Michael and mine were really friends. I'm not surprised by this revelation. In fact, I'm actually quite glad to open my eyes and see who have been a constant in my life through the past nine months. I also am so grateful for the few friends (Matt, Chad, Kyle) that I've been able to grow with in this new chapter of my life.

Tonight I'm feeling a bit lonely. I know part of it has to do with being stressed out at work with a big project. I look forward to this weekend for some down time with myself and taking care of me. 

Donation Complete

Cleaning out the closets took me a bit longer than I had planned. I had underestimated just how many clothes Michael and I had. Secondly sorting through the clothing was an emotional chore. I ran into shirts and pants that were his favorites to wear. I realized that I would never see them on him again. I found shirts and pants and other items that we had bought on our many trips together over the years -- T-shirts and jeans from our many trips to Montreal, a pair of shoes from a quick trek to Chicago, a pair of pants from Miami, a jacket from P'town. Most items of clothing carried some small memory. I also found pieces of clothing that reminded me of special events in our nine years together. A shirt reminded me of one of our parties. A T-shirt brought back memories of working in the yard and another reminded me of bartending together at Fountain Square.

I'm so fortunate to have all those memories that each piece of clothing symbolizes. Although I decided to donate most of his clothes (okay, I did keep his favorite pair of jeans), a big part of him is still with me. Every time I remember a memory, a part of him is with me.

Today I donated a total of 47 pairs of pants (27 dress, 20 jeans), 63 short-sleeved shirts, 16 long-sleeved dress shirts, 50 T-shirts, 28 undershirts, 30 pairs of socks, 16 workout shirts, 10 shorts, 8 sweatpants, 12 pairs of shoes, 15 fleece, 2 belts, and 3 coats today to Wheeler Mission on behalf of Michael.

I find comfort in knowing that people less fortunate that Michael and me will be wearing his clothes, and I hope one day to be walking downtown and see a familiar T-shirt or dress shirt. It will keep him close.

Cleaning Out Closets

Part of the grief process is not only saying goodbye to Michael, the person, but also saying goodbye to many of his clothes and possessions. One good thing about being gay and being with someone somewhat close to my size was we were able to wear many of the same clothes (especially shirts). I spent some time before I went on the trip sorting out what clothes to donate and which ones I still wear.

Tonight I spent another couple hours going through short-sleeved and long-sleeved shirts as well as pants hanging in the closet. Several times tonight I've found a shirt he wore a lot. What was my reaction? I immediately put it up to my nose to see if I could still smell a part of him on it. Perhaps a bit odd, but I would do anything to be able to smell him again (besides of course seeing and touching him and hearing his laugh).

I still have three drawers and one line of hanging clothes to still go through. When I'm done, I'll put everything in garbage bags and donate them to Wheeler Mission. During our nine years, every couple years we'd come up with 4-5 full garbage bags of gently used clothes that we didn't wear anymore and donate them to Wheeler. I plan on making one final donation in his name with these clothes. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be driving down Washington Street and see one of his shirts walk by me. He'd be glad knowing someone in need was getting some good use out of his clothes.

Light a Candle

Michael and I had planned a trip to London this spring, and I'm on the trip now. London is a beautiful city, and I am having a wonderful time. I have thought of him often during this trip, and wished he was by my side seeing the sights. Thursday I went to Westminster Abbey and lit a candle in memory of him. It was just a small gesture, but I said a little prayer for him and thanked God for allowing us to have nine years together.

Today was a perfect London Saturday afternoon. After having a late breakfast at a cool neighborhood restaurant, Tim and met up with Phen and walked through the National Portrait Gallery.  We then walked outside and enjoyed feeling the warm sun. We went to a couple pubs, had a couple pints, and watched the hot men parade by. Tim and I took the tube and got off at South Kensington and while riding up the elevator, I saw my Facebook friend Larry riding down the elevator. He saw me at the same time, so we rounded back down and chatted for 15 minutes and arranged to meet up tonight. Tim and I stopped at a cupcake store and had a tasty afternoon snack. We then walked back through several lovely London neighborhoods back home.

I think often of Michael and know he is with me on this trip.

Celebrate Michael's Life on His Birthday

Saturday is May 14. It would be Michael's 46th birthday. I am planning on having Michael's closest friends and some family over to have a small lunch and celebrate Michael's life by scattering some of his ashes in the back yard. He spent hours in the back yard, manicuring the grass and plants, pulling weeds, and getting his hands dirty. He often said gardening was the best way for him to clear his mind of life's stresses and relax. His labor was evident; our back yard is a site to see.

Some friends have chosen not to come for an assortment of reasons, which I understand. Some have also said that they've already said good bye to Michael and don't feel they need to do it again and again. Saturday isn't time to say goodbye. We have already done it. Saturday is a time to remember him and everything he did and how he impacted my life and the lives of so many others.Taking this step and celebrating his life and scattering his ashes is part of my grief process.

I think of him most of the time and still miss him. However Saturday isn't a time to dwell on sadness. It's not a time to cry and wallow. It's a time to tell stories, laugh, and remember the 45 full years of his life. It's a time for friends and family to come together and be close and feel his spirit as we release his ashes into one of the most sacred places in his life. The back yard meant so much to him -- he spent hours back there cultivating life and now a part of him will always be there helping those plants grow for years to come.

Dining Out without Michael

I've had a heavy heart most of this week thinking about Michael. Tonight marks Dining Out for Life where several restaurants in Indy donate part of their proceeds to the Damien Center to help HIV/AIDS education, treatment, and testing. Michael and I have gone out with friends for dinner on this evening for several years. We've had our share of laughs with Greg, Tony, Bob, and Gary to name a few.

Today is just another day of many firsts this year that constantly remind me that Michael is no longer in my life. In my head I know dealing with his death and moving on with life is about the perspective I choose, but some days, the ache in my chest just hurts to much to be upbeat and positive. In those moments I just want to sit and cry -- not to feel sorry for myself but to mourn this wonderful man that was left us.

I almost chose to sit home alone tonight, but I decided the best thing to do is go out with friends who love me and have a good time. Tonight Michael won't be physically be with me when I dine, but I'll be Dining Out for Michael's Life tonight and think of him all night.

Spreading His Ashes -- South Beach

I traveled to Miami this past weekend and stayed with Danilo and his family. Danilo was an exchange student from Ecuador who stayed with my family my junior year in high school. He has since moved his wife and three daughters to the U.S.

I made a special trip to South Beach to spread a small amount of Michael's ashes. One of Michael's favorite places in the world was the Delano Hotel. Before we met, he went there on numerous occasions with friends. He loved the hotel's simply and sleek design and he loved lying by the pool. He also loved the beach with its soft sand and warm waters. We stayed at the Delano once in our many trips to southern Florida. Every time we would walk by it or walk through the lobby and he would beam.

I sprinkled his ashes in the shallow water in front of the hotel. I hope a small part of him will always enjoy the soft sand, the rolling waves, and the warm Miami sun. Every time I go to South Beach I know he'll be with me.

Six Months

Today is April 15 and marks six months to the day (a Friday also) that Michael collapsed at home and died. Six months is a short time, but it seems like an enternity. The rug was pulled out from under me and my life, and I'm still trying to get up off the floor.

I've been piecing together a new life for myself and searching for a new normalcy. In the past month I've traveled to San Diego and Chicago, and I'm heading to Fort Lauderdale and Miami next weekend. I've stayed with friends in all places. Traveling has allowed me to be in new surroundings by supportive people. Going to San Diego was a bit sad; it was the first airline trip I'd taken without Michael, and I did feel his absence.

Today I chose to focus on his life. I carry his vibrant personality and joy of life with me. I remember his smile, his laugh, his compassion, and his love. I hold it close to my heart.

Spring Has Sprung

Michael's favorite season was spring. He loved seeing the plants come back to life, the grasses start turning green, and the sun shining and warming up the day. When he had time, he would spend hours outside, tooling around with this and that. He weeded, planted, raked, and manicured the yard to be the beautiful yard that it was.

Gardening for him was a therapy where he could relax, get his fingers a little dirty, and create his own little masterpiece. Over the eight years that we lived at our house, he turned the yard from a mess into a little oasis in the middle of the inner city. 

I'm not a gardner at all. I have no real passion for it like he did. I look at the yard and am sometimes a bit overwhelmed at everything that needs to be done. I must admit. I'm not overly excited about doing so. I hate getting dirt under my fingernails, pulling weeds, and doing what is needed for a garden upkeep. But I have realized that it's not about me. To deal with being overwhelmed, I have decided to do a little each day. I have cut down about half of the grasses, and I'll finish the remaining ones over the next week. I also will look for some low-maintenance plants to fill in some holes. 

Keeping the yard beautiful is my way to honor him. I want to maintain his legacy, and one of the best ways to do so is to keep the plants he found so much joy in alive. Every time I look at it in full bloom will allow me to be closer to him and remember his passion.

A Simple Request

Perhaps curiousity killed the cat. Or perhaps it helped the cat to feel a bit closer to friends and family. I'm curious to know what you were doing when you heard that Michael had died. Hearing stories of how people found out about about his death, for some reason, are important to me. I've asked many friends what they were doing and how they felt when he died. I'd like for you to share them with me now in the comments. The stories just remind me how he impacted so many people's lives. Sharing our feelings can help us all heal.

So go ahead and make a comment. I dare you.

A Look Back to the Days Before and After Oct. 15

Many people have asked me over the last several months what exactly happened, so I wanted to make an entry about the last days before and after Michael's death.

The evening of Oct. 13 was the last evening we shared together. I came home after reffing the Cathedral/Brebeuf volleyball match. We spent the evening like we usually did, watching a little TV, talking, and messing around on Facebook. It seemed like every other evening. Little did I know it would be the last night I would spend with him.

Michael was unemployed, having lost his job about six weeks prior when Arrow Electronics closed the Indy office and laid off him and another 100 or so workers. I arose on Oct. 14 and went to work. That evening I reffed the Lutheran and Ritter volleyball match and then headed directly to Chicago where I was to work the GLVC/GLIAC volleyball Crossover tourney (the highest level of volleyball I've ever worked). Michael had done something the evening before that bothered me a bit, so on my way up to Chicago, I called him.
I vividly remember our conversation as I waited in the drive-thru at Starbucks in Lebanon. I told him that what he had done bothered me and I felt upset about it. He immediately apologized and said doing so wasn't his intention at all. He hadn't realized that what he had done bothered me, and he said that he couldn't imagine his life without me. He told me that he loved me and was sorry if he had upset me. I told him that I loved him, and we talked candidly for a few minutes about our relationship. In fact, we told things to each other that people don't tell each other in everyday conversation. I regularly replay that conversation in my head and am grateful that we shared then.

That evening he went to The Vogue with Priscilla and Angie, two friends that we work with at Fountain Square Theatre, to hear a famous DJ. When I awoke the next morning, I had a lovely message from him that I wished I would have saved. He told me that he had a wonderful time with them. He again apologized and told me that he loved me. He said he was tired and was going to sleep in and the next day he planned on going with Mary Beth and her friend to the Covered Bridge Festival in Rockville.

I had a great day at the volleyball tourney on Friday and worked some highly competitive matches. I worked the No. 7 ranked team vs. the No. 19 ranked team in NCAA Div II and had a blast. I felt like I was finally being noticed and felt optimistic about moving up in the college ranks. Michael and I exchanged a few text messages during the day where he said he was tired. Later that evening on my way to grab a bite to eat, we talked the last time we ever would for about 5-10 minutes. I told him how well the day had gone, and he told me that he was so proud of me. He said that he tried to sleep and called Mary Beth he was too tired to go to the festival. He also planned on going out with a couple friends, but decided to stay in and watch a movie because he was tired. I later found out that he collapsed about 30 minutes after we hung up.

I had originally planned on staying the Saturday night in Chicago, but he asked if I would come home, and I said I would. He told me that he loved me and we said goodbye. After eating I went back to the hotel room and turned me phone off. I was exhausted and didn't want to be bothered. I read for a few minutes and then went to sleep.Little did I know that while I was walking back to the hotel and reading before bed that paramedics were probably working on him and trying to save his life.

The next morning I awoke, took a shower, and went downstairs to the lobby of the Hilton Garden Inn for breakfast with Karl, another volleyball ref. As I got off the elevator, I turned on my phone, and it literally exploded. I had like nine voicemail messages and a handful of texts. I immediately knew something had happened. The first message was from Nancy, our neighbor, and she said that I needed to call her as soon as I got this message. Her voice sounded a little strained. The second message was from Ralph who said that I needed to call him.

Before I listened to any more voicemail messages, I called Michael. I had images of him being in a car accident and in the hospital or even arrested for something stupid like DUI. His phone rang and rang, and he didn't pick up. I immediately called Ralph, and while standing in the lobby of the hotel, he told me that Michael had collapsed the night before and died from a heart attack.

I sunk into a chair and started sobbing. What? Huh? No!!! I had just talked to him last evening and he was fine. He was 45. How could a fairly healthy young man like that just die? Ralph told me that he, Jocelyn, and Bill were going to drive up to get me, so I went back to Karl and told him that Michael, my partner, had died the night before. I fell sobbing into his shoulder, and he hugged me back and said he would take care of everything with the tourney.

I went back to my hotel room and tried to do anything but think about Michael. I got back into bed, cried, thought, and cried some more. I put on some mindless TV to try and get my mind on something else, but to no avail. The night before I had called a hometown friend, Amanda, who happens to live in Aurora to see if she could come over for a drink. She wasn't home so I left a message. I can't remember if I called her again or she called me back, but we connected, and she said she would come over.

Amanda arrived and about two minutes later Ralph, Jocelyn, and Bill arrived. I hadn't seen Amanda in years, and she gave me a big hug and was very lovely. She and her family even sent flowers to Michael's service, although she had never met him. Bill left, and Jocelyn and Ralph drove my car back. Ralph had Michael's phone, and he said it had rang this morning when I called. They told me they had a fit trying to locate the hotel I was staying at to get into touch with me.

I discovered that many people already knew of Michael's death before I did. News flies fast, but Ralph and others had asked people not to post anything to Facebook until I found out. Jocelyn drove, and I asked Ralph what had happened.

Michael's friend Mike from Terre Haute was at the house after having returned our power washer. Ralph was going to come over, and the three of them were going to go out. Michael was feeling tired, so he suggested they stay in and watch a movie and drink at home. Ralph hadn't arrive to the house yet, but Michael went to take a shower. He finished showering and went into the bedroom to get dressed. He had on a pair of jeans, socks, and a belt. He collapsed in the doorway of the bedroom landing face first in the upstairs landing.

Mike was downstairs and heard Michael collapse. He ran upstairs and started yelling for him to get up. He was yelling so loud that Skip and Nancy heard the yelling next door. Mike called 911 and soon the front of the house was lined with police and the ambulance. Nancy said she was out front and asked an officer what had happened, and he said someone had collapsed in the home. She asked if it was me or Michael, and the officer said Michael.

Inside the paramedics worked for more than 30 minutes trying to revive Michael. They never were able to get him back. Mike had called Ralph who was on his way over. Ralph called Michael O'Neal and Ryan who quickly came over. The paramedics didn't allow anyone upstairs except for Michael who works for Wishard Hospital. He told me they did everything they could for Michael. Later Michael showed me where Michael had collapsed. (I sometimes lie down on the floor right next to that spot and hope he was at peace and didn't feel any pain.)

Over the next couple of hours, they all spent trying to find me since I wasn't answering my phone. Jocelyn said she had called Michael's mom and told her. I actually don't remember much of the drive back except for calling some people in Michael's phone.

We got to the house and the next couple days are a blur. I remember lots of people coming over and at times I felt like it wasn't real. We were standing in the kitchen talking just like Michael and I had done with friends many times before. It just felt like he was upstairs getting dressed or out to the store and would be home any minute.

Planning the service was a surreal experience, and I'm grateful that Michael's mom followed Michael's wishes and let me plan everything. The visitation and funeral were a testament to his life. More than 400 people showed up from all walks of his life to express their love.

The deputy coroner told me and his mom that Michael had collapsed and probably died instantly. The initial cause of death he said was a massive heart attack. Weeks later when I finally got the final autopsy report and death certificate confirmed that Michael died from hypertensive cardial blah, blah -- aka a heart attack.

Nearly 5 1/2 months later and I'm focusing on finding a new normalcy in my life. I am grateful for the good in my life. I know having compassion toward others and showing gratitude will help me heal. However a part of me still can't believe he's really gone.

20 Weeks

Michael passed away 20 weeks ago last night, and I can't believe it's already been five months. I'm resilient, but I miss him like I can't express in words. I had a couple days this past week that were especially difficult. On Tuesday I just couldn't get out of bed, and my heart ached all day. I'm not sure what set it off. I just woke up and didn't want to do anything. It was no special day for us, and yet I just couldn't function.

I yearn to see him again and at times can't believe he's gone. It just seems like the worst nightmare I've ever experienced and hope I'll wake up soon with him beside me in bed. I can lie my head on his shoulder, feel his beard, touch his lips, and breathe in his smell. I can't find anymore of his smell in the house. I've smelled his clothes, shoes, coats, and so forth, and nothing. I know he's gone, but what I would do for just one more tangible connection.

The past couple days have been better. I focus on the good I have in my life -- my friends and family, my job, my health, my home, and so forth. Although I am learning to find a new future and new normalcy for myself, I still keep Michael close to my heart.

Keeping Travel Dream Alive

Michael and I loved to travel. In our nearly nine years together, we visited many fun and even exotic places, including Hawaii, Rio de Janiero and Buzios (Brazil), Montreal (three times), Puerto Vallarta, Greece (Mykonos, Santorini, and Athens), Spain (Madrid and Toledo), Italy (Florence, Pisa, Rome), Turkey, San Francisco, South Florida (Miami, South Beach, Lauderdale, and Naples), Las Vegas, New Mexico (Albuquerque and Santa Fe), Boston and Ptown, and DC. We had planned on going to England this spring to see our dear friend, Tim, who we met on the Mediterranean cruise about six years ago.
Then Michael died and changed everything.

However I have decided to make the trip to England, and I recently purchased my ticket. I plan on staying with Tim for five or so days, visit a former co-worker in Chicester for a day, travel to Paris for four days via the chunnel, head to Leicester and Shakespeare country for a few days to see Facebook friends before heading home. I plan on meeting up with our friend, Stephen, who has been on a social worker exchange in London for the past 18 months. I also plan on meeting several Facebook friends who I've only known online for the past few years.

Through our travels, we met so many wonderful people and saw such beautiful places. We always looked forward to where our next travels and new adventures were going to take us. Even though Michael isn't going to be there with me in person on this trip, I know that he will be with me in spirit. Everywhere I go, I will have a part of him with me.

This Valentine's Day

Today marks another one of the reminders that Michael is gone from this physical world. I've been thinking a lot about our first Valentine's Day together and the romantic evening we shared. I yearn for that closeness with him again. Now that he's gone, I focus on memories like this and our spiritual connection to help me get through the rough patches.

I'm grateful that we both had the same outlook on Valentine's Day. We didn't need one day a year to go overboard and tell each other "I love you" and how we felt about each other. Instead we told each other every day how much we loved each other. I challenge anyone reading this to look at not only your romantic relationships, but all your relationships in this manner. Take time and tell the people in your life what they mean to you. You don't have to make an ordeal with cards, flowers, and candy. Leave a little note on the kitchen counter that expresses your feelings. Do something small that you don't normally do, like the dishes, and give him/her a little kiss and thank you for being in your life. You never know when your loved one will be gone, so cherish every moment as if it's your last. 

Michael may be gone in this physical world, but I still feel his presence with me every day when I think of him and the times we shared. I don't need Valentine's Day to know how much he loved me and I loved him.

Relevant Daily Meditation

Taking time to breathe and meditating has given me great peace since Michael's death. I can definitely say I've become more of a spiritual person and paying more attention to what my spirit, body, and mind are telling me. Some days I'm busier than others and I may only get five or so minutes at night before I go to bed. I try to shut off all stimuli, read a daily affirmation, and focus on the breaths. Other times I spend a bit more time and focus on the mediation and what the Spirit (God, Allah, etc.) is telling or showing me.

When basketball ends and I have more regular time on my hands, I have made a goal of spending at least 15 minutes a day meditating. It gives me a chance to focus on the good in my life and to be thankful.

One recent meditation was so relevant in where I am right now that I wanted to share a part of it:

When we experience the death of someone or something dear to us, we may experience some emotions of sadness, anger, and grief. They are natural and not to be suppressed or resisted. They clamor for our attention so that we don't miss the need and the opportunity to give sacred awareness to the end of one experience and the beginning of a new one. They are indicators of a sacred event for the soul. In this way, we may bring hospice to the old and birth the new.

When we experience emotions like sadness, it is good to take heed and ask if the emotions are pointing to some aspect of life that needs attention. When we have been rightly redirected, then we can give the appropriate consideration, acknowledging how we feel and yet approaching the feelings with equanimity.

Meditating keeps me centered and focused on what is truly important in my life -- my family and friends, my health, my ability to pay for things I need (and want), and my ability to love and be loved.

February 3rd and My Christmas Tree

I'm sitting here typing this post with my Christmas tree still up and still illuminated. Call me crazy. Although I regretted putting it up (thankfully Carrie and Angie helped me), I am glad I did because it now gives me comfort. I come home to a dark, quiet house at night, and I can turn on the tree's lights, and I don't feel so alone. In fact, having the tree up decorated with all the decorations we purchased together over the years became an important tradition. We bought most of them, of course, at Pottery Barn and Target. He was always on the lookout for finding beautiful glass ornaments during the after-Christmas sales. No surprise that we didn't pay full price for any of them.

When Michael went to New England the week before he died with his mom, he purchased a couple different ornaments. I now have them on the tree, and I often look at them and think about him. One is a witch ball that he purchased in Salem, Massachusetts. The big purple glass ball is believed to be able to catch spirits in it, and you can look at it and see different shards of glass blown in it to give it that feeling. The other is actually a pair of little glass red lobsters he purchased in Maine.

One of our last nights together before he died, he pulled the ornaments out of their bags to show them to me. He had such a good time with him mom, and he was so excited for us to take a trip to New England so he could take me to the little shops where he purchased them. He was so happy with them and couldn't wait until Christmas to put them on the tree. Although I couldn't go on the trip, he said these ornaments were a way to help me feel like I had been on the trip with him -- and now they do connect me to him more than he had ever planned.

I really have no plans on taking the tree down anytime soon. Especially during the cold dreary days of winter, the lights reflecting off the ornaments help me just a little bit. This evening after my game for some reason was hard. I've felt a rush of sorrow and pain from missing him -- even though the dull pain has never left. I lie awake at night and think about where he is and how his spirit is. I hope with every ounce of my being that he's happy and at peace. For now, I have the Christmas tree in February to help me find a little peace. Today I really need it.

Others Remembering Michael

I'm still so overwhelmed by the impact Michael made on so many people's lives. Most days I'm reminded by it when people share a memory about him with me. I already knew that he was an incredible human being with a generous soul and full heart; I do find comfort in knowing that others realize that fact as well and miss him.

The Bag Ladies have done a couple small tributes to him (and the other men the gay community has lost this past year, all at such young ages). During the holiday fundraiser, a drag queen sang a song with pictures on the TVs that looked back at the past year. The last few images were ones of those we lost, including one of Michael. On Sunday, Cadillac Barbie did a special tribute during her inaugural disco brunch for those we've lost this year, including Michael. She sang Diana Ross's "Missing You", one of my favorites. I've actually listened to that song again and again since Michael's death. Michael and I had bartended at Pride the past two years, and he was a valued part of the community. The tears rolled during both performances, both out of missing him but also out of appreciation for people not forgetting him.

My sister shared a story with me today that touched my heart and brought tears to my eyes. She forwarded me an email from my almost 9-year-old nephew's teacher, which I'll share here:

"Independent work time tends to be difficult for Ethan.  This seems to be when he often loses his focus. Also, he was teary today.  When asked what was on his mind, he mentioned that it was "personal".  Later he came back to me and said he was upset about a death in your family.  He has brought up a friend of the family... a younger man who lived in Indy and was a friend of his uncle's.  I'm sorry I can't recall his name.  This matter has come up with Ethan 3-4 times throughout the year.  It seems to be on his mind from time to time in class.  Just FYI."

 Michael was such a great man.

The Ice Bringeth Sadness

Right now the sleet is coming down, leaving us with what the forecasters are saying could be the worst ice storm central Indiana has seen in years. The office was closed today, and I slept in until 1 p.m. I piddled around the house, visited Skip and Nancy next door, and had a late lunch at Steer-In. The forecasters are saying we're supposed to be hit even harder tonight, with up to an inch of ice.

I've planned ahead in case the power goes out. I have my flashlight, wood ready for the fire, blankets, and lots of candles. I really wish Michael were here with me. Moments like this really remind me that I'm alone now, and he's gone. If he were here, we'd probably be on the couch together, wrapped up in a blanket and watching TV with a fire going. I yearn for moments like that so much.

He hated this type of weather. I can hear him complaining and wishing we were in Florida or some other warm location where we didn't have to put up with this weather. We often talked about retirement and  how we'd buy a cozy little house or condo in southern Florida to get away from the cold wintry weather. The storm just reminds me again of how that dream of so many is gone.

Accepting that he's gone is still a bit difficult for me. It still feels like a terrible nightmare that I'll finally wake up from, but I know in my head, this is my new reality. I must focus on the good in my life right now and take one breath at a time. I can start to have new dreams again for my future. I just wish he were a part of them.

The Eulogy from Michael's Funeral

Michael Brian Williams

“Remembering Him”

October 20, 2010

The Rev. Jeffrey L. Bower+

Opening Sentences and Prayers (taken from the Book of Common Prayer)

A Reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes

Good Evening, it is an honor for me to be with you this evening to offer this celebration of praise and thanksgiving to God for the life of Michael Brian Williams.

Tonight we pause for a while to remember who he was and to honor his sacred story, a story that we all share and are entrusted to carry with us. We honor him with our presence as we remember him as life partner, son, grandson, brother, uncle, colleague and friend.

There is a rich Hebrew tradition which holds that a person’s life is of value and of worth if his story is carried forward in the lives of those who are left behind.

One author puts it this way, whether we know it or not we transmit the presence of everyone we have ever known as if by being in each others presence we pass on some of our life force and we go on carrying the other person with us. Not unlike springtime when certain plants in fields, like burrs, attach to our socks, our pants, our caps as if to say, “Go on, take us with you. Take us to root in another place.” This is how we continue long after we are gone and that is why it is so very important who we become, because we pass it on.”

And pass it on is precisely what Michael has done. He has given his story to us. He is no longer able to tell it, but we can, and in telling his story he continues to live in our hearts and minds forever, until that time when we join him and all those who have gone before us.

When I sat with Chad the other day in preparation for this evening’s service, I asked him to give me words that characterized Michael. He said, “warm, friendly, outgoing, infectious smile, unmistakable laugh, cook, bartender, hard-working, straight-forward, gardener, decorator, professional, hard-nosed, reliable, thoughtful, connected, entertainer, traveler, family, friends, inclusive, honest, supportive, happy.”

I could go on, but then again, so could each of you. In your individual experiences with Michael, I am sure that you each have particular words that come to mind. These words take us to places and times, shared activities and memories. They communicate to each of us the essence of who Michael was and how important everyday of life was to him. He lived his life in relationships with others and to the world around. He embraced life and more importantly, he shared it with others.

Chad said that after they met that Michael confided in him that he used to pray nightly to God that God would bring him someone special, preferably bald and hairy, and I will let you imagine the other attributes that Michael prayed for. Let’s just say, there is something to be said for “ask and you shall receive.”

He got Chad, and for the last nine years they have built a life together, adapting to each others idiosyncracies, staying connected always. They were happy together and when their lives stretched them in different directions and they had to be apart, they were intentional about talking daily and sharing with one another the events of each day. Chad recalls his long conversation with Brian on his way to Chicago this last week. They talked about how important they were to each other and expressed their love for one another. Chad, I hope you will replay that conversation many times in the days ahead.

Michael’s laugh and smile were infectious. It was one of the great attributes that Chad fell in love with in the early days of their life together.

Michael didn’t approach things with indifference. When he set his mind to something he did it and he did it in ways that only he could. He was a grand entertainer and loved having parties. Planning and preparation was always done with great care to ensure that all who came would have an evening to remember. Lighting, food, his famous dip(that Chad likened to Crack) gardening, cleaning the bathrooms…it didn’t matter if it had just been done…He would do it again. Chad said, “He was a little OCD.” You think?

He loved to decorate and work in the garden and he took great pride in creating a comfortable home for he and Chad and all who shared their lives. He loved introducing new plants to the yard and knew the names of everything he planted. He enjoyed finding the best prices and the perfect piece for each room whether it was art on the walls or tables or furniture to adorn a nook. He had an eye for detail and knew what worked and what just wouldn’t make the cut.

In his work he was dedicated and achieved excellence. One need only read some of the beautiful memories that have been posted on the Legacy website to know how important he was to those who had the privilege of working with him. He was professional, dedicated and always did whatever necessary to take care of his customers. He was reliable and honest.

He loved for people to enjoy themselves and whether at his home or bartending side-by-side with Chad, he was at his best when he could be involved in helping others to have a good time.

Michael and Chad had many opportunities to travel and to see the world. It was one of their great passions. Albuquerque, Santa Fe, San Francisco, Palm Springs, Montreal, South Florida, Provincetown, Brazil, Hawaii, a Mediterranean Cruise, Spain, Italy, Puerto Vallarta…are some of the myriad of places that they visited together. Chad describes their travels as magical.

Whenever they would talk about going somewhere as just idea, it quickly became more than a passing conversation. Michael was ready. He had the itinerary planned, knew where they would be staying, the restaurants where they would eat, and the many places that they would need to visit to have a fulfilling trip. Did you say he was OCD?

Chad recalled one of their trips to Montreal when it had been raining. In the village they would close off the street and there would be areas outside to sit in front of the restaurants. They were seated at this lovely restaurant and had been there for a few minutes, sitting under the canopy, staying out of the rain. They noticed a young woman who was working hard to drain the canopies. She was using a stick and holding up the canopy so the water would drain as the canopies were getting weighted down by all the water. About that time as she held the stick up to drain the canopy above them, the canopy collapsed and they were left soaking wet.

What might have otherwise been a ruined evening for most of us here, Michael saw as an opportunity to not take life so seriously. They laughed and joined another table of people whom they didn’t even know and enjoyed a truly memorable evening that Chad holds as one of the most memorable, yet funniest experiences in their shared lives.

Michael was very close to his family and loved his niece and nephews. He enjoyed teasing them, tickling them, giving them wedgies. His mother, Jane and he and recently got to spend time alone vacationing for a week together in New England.

He grew up near the St. Joe River and as a child played and swam in the river. He had fond memories of life on the river and spending time with his Aunt Karen.

Michael was a huge Notre Dame Football fan and was passionate about their games. He enjoyed going to professional events and at times he would go to events when Chad was referring just so that he could be with Chad and support him in his work.

Chad and Michael loved eating at new restaurants and trying different foods. They loved to shop together and enjoyed seeing the latest movies. Michael loved music and his favorite artist was Madonna. I’m told he saw her four times in concert, and the last time was in the fourth row. I love Madonna too....both of them!

He was looking forward to going with Chad to see Wicked. Something tells me, he will be there.

Michael’s life was devoted to his relationships with others. He lived his life everyday sharing his smile, his laugh, his love with the world who knew him. He was secure in his own skin and had no time for those who judged or erected barriers or projected their ethos on him.

And while Michael did not live his faith in the context of the institutional church, he lived his faith in the context of the world where he lived. He was not afraid to make a difference in the lives of others and was open to others making a difference in his life. He loved God and showed his love by loving others, unconditionally.

When I asked Chad what Michael would want to say to us tonight he said, “Love life. Live every moment. Appreciate and show those who are important to you what they mean to you. Go from here and know that I am with you always.”

Chad said that what he will miss most is Michael’s presence, his laugh, his smile, his love, knowing he is here. In his words he said, “I am sad he is gone. I miss him and will miss him, but also feel so blessed to have had 9 years. I have no regrets. We lived life to the fullest, together.”

Dear friends, most of us are from Indiana. We expect a change of seasons. It’s all around us. We scarcely are finished with one season and another is upon us. To a large extent we can plan for these changes. We buy clothes particular to each season and we hibernate during the cold and flee outside during the warmer times of the year. With some certainty, we can be ready for the seasons, winter, spring, summer, fall.

But nothing can prepare us for the season of change that we have experienced in the last week and with the loss of Michael. Be gentle on yourselves and acknowledge your loss and remember that when your grief wells up within you, know with certainty that Michael is with you. For that matter, we are only one breath away from him this evening. It really isn’t that far.

We would turn back time if we could, but you and I both know, that isn’t a reality for any of us. Even Cher couldn’t do that! God knows she's tried!

A new season has dawned for us and for Michael. “There is a season and a time for every matter under Heaven…there is a time to mourn and a time to dance.”

While we mourn, rest assured, that Michael dances the great dance of eternal life, a dance that we too will dance with him in that day when we like Michael are called to our eternal rest.

Rest eternal grant to him. Let light perpetual shine upon him. May his soul and the souls of all the departed through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen

A Little Too Crazy?

I've started to think about slowing getting rid of Michael's things. I've decided to start small like with his hair gel and socks, although I'm not really ready yet. I'm fortunate that we shared many of our clothes, so I've already decided that I'm going to keep most of the clothes we both wore. I'll just donate to a mission some of his pants and shoes that I didn't wear.

Tonight I wonder if I didn't go a little weird. With my braces, my toothbrush was showing its wear, so I looked in the hall cabinet for a new toothbrush. I couldn't find one. All of a sudden, I decided to use his toothbrush that had been sitting in the medicine cabinet for 14 1/2 weeks without being used since his death. I realize it's not the healthiest and hygienic choice I could have made, and probably a tad creepy. However, Ijust felt this urge to be closer to him. His toothbrush is about as close as I can get to him, and right now, that's what I need.

I still haven't gotten rid of his deodorant, his hair gel, his lotion, his cologne, or even his razor. His razor even still has little hairs in it. I'm just not ready to get rid of this stuff yet. Doing so and then opening a half empty medicine cabinet would be another constant reminder in the mornings and evenings. I know he's gone, but having some of this things around gives me a little comfort. Just like using his toothbrush.

Lonely Nights

Nighttime is the worst time. No matter whether I come home after reffing a game to a dark house or have been home, I miss Michael the most at night. I often meditate and read a little before going to bed and think about him. I have the picture from his 45th birthday party that Greg gave me on my bedside table. Many nights I pick it up and just stare at it, trying to look deep into his eyes one more time. I lose all track of time when doing this. I've stared at the picture for up to an hour just admiring his smile and looking into his eyes and wishing I could see them in person one more time.

The eyes are the windows to a person's soul, and anyone who knew Michael knew how welcoming his blue eyes were. He smiled at someone, looked them in the eyes, and you immediately felt comfortable being around him. Now all I have are pictures to remember those eyes. I'm just afraid I'll forget their gentleness, so I make sure I look at his picture every night before I go to bed.

After I turn off the lights, I'll often talk to Michael and imagine him still lying next to me. I place the pillows like he liked them and reach out in hopes of feeling his warm body. I miss him so much.

Thank You Michael

I've finally been able to wrap up some of the estate issues and have received the life insurance money. Getting it has been a big relief. I'm so grateful that Michael and I made sure each of us would be taken care of if anything were to ever happen to either of us.

With the money I can refinance the house to a very manageable monthly payment as well as pay off the HELOC. We had paid off all our credit cards, so we have no other debt (except for my car payment). I can put the rest in savings.

My counselor asked me if there was anything I was going to give myself as sort of a "thank you" gift to Michael -- something I can constantly remember him by. I said that I actually did have something. I've decided to get braces. I've always been self conscious of my crooked bottom teeth although my top teeth aren't bad. Michael was always obsessed about teeth on people. I don't know how many times we'd first meet someone, and the very first thing he would say was something about that person's grill. I often reminded him that many people weren't blessed to have the perfect teeth that he did. He had one cavity in his 45 years of life and would only get his teeth cleaned once a year. His smile was a site to see -- something I miss.

I've always wanted straighter teeth, so now I can get them. I got the top brackets put on this week and will get the bottom brackets put on next week and the actual wires. The dentist said I will need to wear them for 18-24 months. When I'm done, I'll have a smile that will remind me of him everytime I shine my pearly whites. Thank you Michael. I love you.

Dreaming of Michael

Dreams allow us to connect to our subconsciousness and can tell us so much. They can warn us about things to come and they can also point out areas in our lives we're working through and not yet reconciled. They can also be ways to remember. I've looked forward to Michael visiting me in my dreams, although he's really only visited me four times that I can remember. Unfortunately the dreams weren't exactly the type I had hope for, but they've all followed the same type of theme -- Michael's spirit has moved on, and I need to let him go.

The first dream I had was a couple weeks after he died. I had been trying to get in contact for him and was getting frustrated that he wasn't answering his phone or returning my messages. I felt like he was avoiding me. I called his mom and asked her to call him and tell him to call me. I was with my mom who was driving, and we decided to eat at a restaurant in a hotel just up the road. Mom missed the first entrance and was pulling into the second exit when I glanced across the street and saw Michael there in his black Fountain Square shirt we wear when we bartend. I told mom to stop and I ran across the road. Michael was with another guy. He acted surprised and taken aback to see me. He introduced me to the guy, and then I asked him why he hadn't returned my calls, which was the end of the dream.

The second dream happened a couple weeks ago. I was on a bus (not sure whether a school bus or charter bus), and we were running late to our destination. The driver finally stopped to drop me off. I got off the bus with my bags, and I saw Michael waiting to pick me up driving a minivan. I went over, opened the back, and threw my bags inside. Someone was sitting in the front passenger's seat, so I went to get in behind Michael. I opened the door and he drove away leaving me stand there. He didn't drive away though on the road. He drove down a wide walking path. As I watched him drive away, I also saw the bus drive down the road leaving me alone. I started running after the minivan on the walking path and trying to text him to come back and get me. I soon couldn't see the van any longer.

Last week I had the third dream. I was sitting in a booth at a restaurant with Ralph who was looking at his photos in his camera. He came across a picture of Michael. I asked about Michael and how he was doing. It seemed like we were no longer together, but Michael may still be alive. Ralph didn't answer my question, and I noticed in the picture that Michael had what looked like a green lettering tattoo on his forearm. I asked Ralph what that was all about, and he said it was just a fake tattoo. However he said on Michael's other forearm under a bandage he actually did have a new tattoo. About that time Ralph noticed something on the other side of the restaurant. Michael was sitting in a booth with Dave. Dave looked over at us but they didn't acknowledge us. I looked at Ralph, and he appeared like he wanted to go over there and join them, but yet he didn't want to leave me alone. That's all I remember.

A couple nights ago I had another dream. I was at a gay spa or sauna. I remember walking down the hall and seeing private rooms for massage and such. Gay men and lesbians were walking around in towels. I soon was sitting in a circular room that served like a laid-back cafe and lounge. Outside all around the building was a pool filled with gay men and lesbians. I was sitting in a chair facing the tinted windows looking out at the pool. My mom, dad, and another friend were with me, all facing toward me away from the window. All of a sudden, I looked out and saw Michael in the pool. He was looking at the window, but he couldn't see in because of the tinted glass. I jumped up startled and said, "There's Michael." I studied him to make sure, and he had the same glasses, haircut, and mole on his forehead. Everyone turned around, and they saw him too, and they agreed. We were all excited trying to get his attention, and finally, I told them to keep an eye on him and I was going outside to get him. That's when I woke up.

I look forward to a dream where Michael and I can just be together and not have any other people around -- like old times, but I also realize my dreams are probably telling me that Michael is gone and moved on and taken a part of me with him, and I must release him.

The Little Things

I have come to a painful realization with Michael's death. I didn't realize how much I could miss a person. Michael and I shared nearly nine years together. Some naysayers thought we'd never make it past a couple years, which wasn't an all together crazy guess. In some aspects we were total opposites: He was outgoing around strangers while I'm more introverted, He was obsessed about cleanliness, while a little clutter for a few days never bothered me. He had a fine detail for design, making our house truly a masterpiece, while I was stuck in a bachelor's apartment mindset. He could nurture and create a beautiful garden, and I couldn't even keep a cactus without killing it.

However we had so much in common too. Our love of family and friends, good food, movies, traveling, football, shopping, bartending, and more. What made our relationship work for those nine years was our understanding of having some independence in our relationship. We each had our own interests and friends, and we also had the understanding that we were in this together and knew where we would be each night -- asleep next to each other. We got each other. I actually only remember two significant arguments during those nine years and only one small threat of a break-up back around year three.

What I miss the most though are the little things. I miss softly touching the little mole he had on his forehead. I miss rolling over in the middle of the night and hearing his breathing (and even sometimes his snoring). I miss watching him stand at the bathroom sink and shave. I miss sitting next to him on the couch sharing a blanket and watching HGTV and Food Network. I miss trying to touch his belly button -- something he never let me do in the nine years together. I miss softly tickling his back at night to help him fall asleep. I miss playing practical jokes on him and waiting for his reaction. I miss going to Steer In with him and having our Sunday morning breakfast in Christy or Cassandra's section. I miss telling him "to turn it off" and shut down his whirling thoughts so he could go to sleep. I miss his gentle and generous spirit where he would often give to friends and family who were going through rough times. I miss teasing him about the occasional stray ear hair (after my constant nagging, he would sometimes let me pull it, but I'd only get one attempt). I miss watching him in mode as he prepared for one of our parties where everything had to be just right. I miss him being able to finish my sentences and thoughts and knowing what I was going to do before I even did it many times. I miss hearing his laughter -- the one thing that immediately drew me to him when we first started dating. We would talk nightly while I lived in Bloomington and he in Indy, and I remember how his laughter was so comforting and such a beautiful sound. I miss so much about him.

One thing I miss the most is seeing him every night when I came home after a game. The back light would be on, and I'd walk into the house and hear him laughing while sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. He would often greet me with a hug or kiss, and we'd check in on each other's day. We'd sit next to each other, sometimes not even talking, just being there. Sometimes we wouldn't even be in the same room. I'd be online checking Facebook or email, and he'd be in watching TV, and I'd hear him laugh or talk to the TV. We were comfortable and safe knowing each other was close by. Coming home to a quiet dark home reminds me every day that he's gone.

What I miss the most though isn't little. I miss his smile. Michael had the biggest and warmest smile I've ever seen. He'd walk into a room and instantly brighten the mood. He'd soon have people laughing and having a great time. His smile was so inviting; on our travels, his smile helped introduce us to countless people who have since become lifelong friends. At parties in town his smile would bring people together. I'd do anything to see that smile in person again. I will never forget his smile; I take a little bit of that smile and his laughter with me now when I'm in social situations to make myself just a little more outgoing in uncomfortable situations.

I must try and make some sense of his death and my loss. I've lost my best friend, my confidante, my lover, my muse, and my soulmate. One day he was here smiling  and being a joyful man who everyone loved, and in an instant, he was gone. I'm left with all the memories of the big and little things I miss about him.

Countering Stress and Depression

I read this today on Facebook and had to share it on here because it is SO relevant. What wise words from the Dalai Lama.


At a fundamental level, as human beings, we are all the same; each one of us aspires to happiness and each one of us does not wish to suffer. This is why, whenever I have the opportunity, I try to draw people's attention to what as members of the human family we have in common and the deeply interconnected nature of our existence and welfare.

Today, there is increasing recognition, as well as a growing body of scientific evidence, that confirms the close connection between our own states of mind and our happiness. On the one hand, many of us live in societies that are very developed materially, yet among us are many people who are not very happy. Just underneath the beautiful surface of affluence there is a kind of mental unrest, leading to frustration, unnecessary quarrels, reliance on drugs or alcohol, and in the worst case, suicide. There is no guarantee that wealth alone can give you the joy or fulfilment that you seek. The same can be said of your friends too. When you are in an intense state of anger or hatred, even a very close friend appears to you as somehow frosty, or cold, distant, and annoying.

However, as human beings we are gifted with this wonderful human intelligence. Besides that, all human beings have the capacity to be very determined and to direct that strong sense of determination in whatever direction they like. So long as we remember that we have this marvellous gift of human intelligence and a capacity to develop determination and use it in positive ways, we will preserve our underlying mental health. Realizing we have this great human potential gives us a fundamental strength. This recognition can act as a mechanism that enables us to deal with any difficulty, no matter what situation we are facing, without losing hope or sinking into feelings of low self-esteem.

I write this as someone who lost his freedom at the age of 16, then lost his country at the age of 24. Consequently, I have lived in exile for more than 50 years during which we Tibetans have dedicated ourselves to keeping the Tibetan identity alive and preserving our culture and values. On most days the news from Tibet is heartbreaking, and yet none of these challenges gives grounds for giving up. One of the approaches that I personally find useful is to cultivate the thought: If the situation or problem is such that it can be remedied, then there is no need to worry about it. In other words, if there is a solution or a way out of the difficulty, you do not need to be overwhelmed by it. The appropriate action is to seek its solution. Then it is clearly more sensible to spend your energy focussing on the solution rather than worrying about the problem. Alternatively, if there is no solution, no possibility of resolution, then there is also no point in being worried about it, because you cannot do anything about it anyway. In that case, the sooner you accept this fact, the easier it will be for you. This formula, of course, implies directly confronting the problem and taking a realistic view. Otherwise you will be unable to find out whether or not there is a resolution to the problem

Taking a realistic view and cultivating a proper motivation can also shield you against feelings of fear and anxiety. If you develop a pure and sincere motivation, if you are motivated by a wish to help on the basis of kindness, compassion, and respect, then you can carry on any kind of work, in any field, and function more effectively with less fear or worry, not being afraid of what others think or whether you ultimately will be successful in reaching your goal. Even if you fail to achieve your goal, you can feel good about having made the effort. But with a bad motivation, people can praise you or you can achieve goals, but you still will not be happy.

Again, we may sometimes feel that our whole lives are unsatisfactory, we feel on the point of being overwhelmed by the difficulties that confront us. This happens to us all in varying degrees from time to time. When this occurs, it is vital that we make every effort to find a way of lifting our spirits. We can do this by recollecting our good fortune. We may, for example, be loved by someone; we may have certain talents; we may have received a good education; we may have our basic needs provided for - food to eat, clothes to wear, somewhere to live - we may have performed certain altruistic deeds in the past. We must take into consideration even the slightest positive aspect of our lives. For if we fail to find some way of uplifting ourselves, there is every danger of sinking further into our sense of powerlessness. This can lead us to believe that we have no capacity for doing good whatsoever. Thus we create the conditions of despair itself.

As a Buddhist monk I have learned that what principally upsets our inner peace is what we call disturbing emotions.  All those thoughts, emotions, and mental events which reflect a negative or uncompassionate state of mind inevitably undermine our experience of inner peace. All our negative thoughts and emotions - such as hatred, anger, pride, lust, greed, envy, and so on - are considered to be sources of difficulty, to be disturbing. Negative thoughts and emotions are what obstruct our most basic aspiration - to be happy and to avoid suffering. When we act under their influence, we become oblivious to the impact our actions have on others: they are thus the cause of our destructive behaviour both toward others and to ourselves. Murder, scandal, and deceit all have their origin in disturbing emotions.

This inevitably gives rise to the question - can we train the mind? There are many methods by which to do this. Among these, in the Buddhist tradition, is a special instruction called mind training, which focuses on cultivating concern for others and turning adversity to advantage. It is this pattern of thought, transforming problems into happiness that has enabled the Tibetan people to maintain their dignity and spirit in the face of great difficulties. Indeed I have found this advice of great practical benefit in my own life.

A great Tibetan teacher of mind training once remarked that one of the mind’s most marvellous qualities is that it can be transformed. I have no doubt that those who attempt to transform their minds, overcome their disturbing emotions and achieve a sense of inner peace, will, over a period of time, notice a change in their mental attitudes and responses to people and events. Their minds will become more disciplined and positive. And I am sure they will find their own sense of happiness grow as they contribute to the greater happiness of others. I offer my prayers that everyone who makes this their goal will be blessed with success.


The Dalai Lama

December 31, 2010

Published in the Hindustan Times, India, on January 3rd, 2011

To Deal with Loss: Live Life

If you've ever lost a spouse or life partner, you can agree with me that you've probably never experienced such pain before. You exist in a daze for the first few weeks not knowing what time it is or where you're going. In fact, you don't even care. Many times you want to wrap yourself up in a blanket and stop existing. Perhaps that will stop the pain. You feel as if a 30-pound child is sitting right on your chest. The pain and pressure is almost too much to bear at times. Weeks later the shock wears off, but you still feel a dull ache in your chest -- like something has been ripped out of you, only leaving a gaping hole.

I had a big part of my heart ripped out the morning of October 16. I was in a Chicago suburb reffing a two-day collegiate volleyball tourney. I had gotten ready and headed down to the lobby to have some breakfast when I turned on my phone when it literally exploded with about nine voicemail messages and six text messages. I listened to the first message, which was from our neighbor Nancy when she called at about 11:30 the night before. I could tell from her voice something was wrong. I hung up before listening to the other eight voicemails and called Michael's phone. It rang and rang and rang and finally went to his voicemail. When he didn't answer, my mind started to race: Had he been in an automobile accident? Had someone broken into the house? Had he been arrested?

The second message was from Ralph, so I called him back. That's when he told me that Michael had collapsed the night before at home and had died from what looked like a heart attack. No matter how old I get, I will never forget that moment. I shrunk down into a chair and sobbed. What happened? A heart attack? At 45? You can't be serious, I said.

Now 11.5 weeks later, I look at my short journey without Michael. With my counseling, reading and meditating, I have learned one valuable lesson to help with the suffering. Despite how much I miss him, I will honor him and our life together and the best nine years of my life, and I will breathe one breath at a time.

Although his sudden death is a tragedy and brings incredible suffering, I can't dwell on it and I won't dwell on it. Instead I choose to focus on all the good memories and the love we shared. I continue to live life to the fullest every single moment, just like we did. I don't honor him or do myself any justice by dwelling on his death and the suffering. Today's meditation brings this home for me: "Yesterday is not, tomorrow is not, but today, bright with hope and filled with promise, is mine. Today I live."

The reality is I can't turn back time. Michael is gone. I am still here. I can make it -- one day at a time. I choose to be among the living. If you've experienced loss, you may want to give up. I challenge you: "LIVE" your life.

2011 -- a New Year

With 2011 here, I've decided to start a blog and designate this space as a place where I can share my feelings and thoughts as I grieve Michael and create a new life for myself. In the past I've been using Facebook sort of as my online therapy, but I wanted a place where I could remember my soul mate and honor him. I consider this new blog, which by the way I never thought I would blog, as a therapeutic way to share with friends and family who are interested in reading about my process. I hope my words can serve whatever way you need them -- whether to provide you a little comfort, to remember a funny story about Michael, or to just know that I'm working through this process. Some days are good and some aren't so good, but I know that I am a strong and capable person, and I have the courage to work through this grief.

New Year's Eve night was actually quite a difficult day for me. During the past couple weeks I had been doing well. I've been reading a lot, journaling, meditating, going to counseling, and taking care of my emotional health. However when the clock struck 12, I had a significant rush of emotion while at Kevin and Neil's party. I hadn't really broken down like that for about a month. I hugged many dear friends and just cried. I miss Michael so much and wanted him there with me in the worst way. It's been 11 weeks now since he died, and I'd do anything just to have one more day with him. I felt such an emptiness at that moment. After crying for a good 15 minutes, I calmed down and stayed nearby close friends.

New Year's Day was hard as well. I hosted the Stuver Christmas at my house, so had about 18 people here. It was so good to see everyone, but it was the first major social event (other than having a few friends over) I had hosted at the house without Michael. His eye for detail and his boisterous laugh were missing. I had to escape upstairs for about 20 minutes to just be alone and cry a bit.

In this new year, I know the moments of sadness are a normal part of the grief process. I have one resolution: To focus on the good in everyone and everything, something which Michael did quite well. I will continue to work through my grief, day by day, and keep him close to my heart.