One and a half years without Michelle (#1403)

Topics/tags: Michelle

Michelle passed away eighteen months ago, last Wednesday. I’ve made it a year and a half without her. I knew I’d make it, but I didn’t realize it would come so soon. Or that it would take so long. Both. Neither.

I’d hoped to write about her last Wednesday. However, life got in the way. Well, work got in the way. I think she’d understand. She’d complain that I prioritize work too often, but she’d deal.

It’s also more than work that got in the way. Eighteen months hit me hard. I spent the week asking myself how I could continue on without her. I miss all the small things we shared, including music, books, TV shows, food, and even board games (back in the day, we played Circus Maximus together; in recent years, Ticket to Ride and Wingspan were favorites). I’d love to discuss these things, share new things, build upon our years together. But I’m left doing so alone.

I miss the bigger things, too. Planning our lives together. Taking vacations. Supporting the kids. Just the feeling of growing older together. I don’t know how I can do without that. I thought I’d figured it out, but I haven’t.

Some days are okay. Some are not. I don’t keep track. I cry less. I think. That is, I think that I cry less. I think about other things, too, such as the many ways that I miss her.

I wish I could be more articulate about these feelings. But I can’t. Even with four extra days, I haven’t found the words. That’s okay; she knows. And I know. Nothing else matters.

I suppose I should mention a few of the moments this month that were particularly meaningful, at least to me. Here goes.

A friend went to the hospital and had to deal with both health issues and the complexity of the American healthcare system. They asked me for help. Why me? I dunno. I did what I could. Michelle would have done so much better, though, and she would have enjoyed it (even as things would also have frustrated her). She was so good at managing the health care system for her patients (and friends).

I went to the Firefighters’ Dance with a friend because I like the performer. I invited the friend because she likes to dance. (I don’t.) Michelle and I never went to the Firefighters’ Dance (at least that I can recall), so I thought it would be fine. It ended up being remarkably hard. All I could do was remember being at dances with Michelle and doing my best to dance with her. Also, just hanging together, leaning into each other, and watching others dance. Plus, watching her dance on the songs where women dance together, because I don’t dance much or well. So much lost! She always wanted me to learn to dance. I wish I had.

Some friends are moving away and offered me a pair of recliners. I miss having a recliner. Having these recliners also provides me with a way to remain connected to those friends. So I said yes. Then I had to figure out how to fit them into the house. Michelle was so good at that; she had clever ways to put things together. Eldest and I spent some time trying, but didn’t come up with a great solution. To be honest, we didn’t even come up with a good solution. I need to channel her creativity.

That’s about it for this month. I cried while writing this. But I also got to think about things I loved about her: Her dancing, her care for others and ability to advocate, her eye for design, and much more. The stories also remind me that I still have friends. That’s good. Friends help me make it through. I may not feel articulate, but I can still learn from writing.

Can I continue without Michelle? I can. It will be hard. I can’t imagine it being as happy as it would have been if she were still here, but I’ll persist.

Crap. I have no idea how to end this musing. I’ll just say I love you, Micki! I always will.

Version 1.0 of 2026-04-12.