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.