Fifteen months without Michelle (#1391)

Topics/tags: Michelle

Michelle passed away fifteen months ago today. This past month, I survived many important events without her—the annual College dinner and the pre-game party, a Christmas celebration at home with the boys, New Year’s Eve, and Eldest’s dissertation defense, among others. She would have loved to be here for all of them. We would have loved to have her here in person for all of them. She was certainly here in spirit.

Christmas was her favorite holiday of the year. I know that, in part, because a friend shared one of those silly surveys that pervade Facebook, gathering data to be used for purposes both positive (e.g., how your friends use it) and nefarious (e.g., how others use it to invade your privacy). But I also know because it’s a time she joyously celebrated with family. It’s now the one time of year that all the boys are certain to be home. I hope it remains that way [1]. I wasn’t up to putting up a tree this year, but at least we did the holiday at home. And we continued our tradition of identical pajamas. Also, photos with Santa [2]. We weren’t up to her favorite movie, The Year Without a Santa Claus. Maybe next year.

Over this past month, I’ve had many situations in which I’ve thought about Michelle in a particular way and then said to myself, I should write that down for the next monthly musing. However, I always managed to convince myself that I’d remember. I was wrong. I may have insights, but I lack memory. I expect that I’ll forget to write things down this month, too.

I also heard many comments about the dedication of the Dr. Michelle Rebelsky First-Generation and Low-Income Lounge and the corresponding events fund. So many people told me how much they valued her as a doctor or said how well the lounge would memorialize her. Sometimes both. As I’ve said before, I don’t think she would have cared about having it named after her; she would have cared more about how it served the FGLI students. I struggled to respond to the thank-yous. At times, sarcastic Sam snuck out. All I did was donate money; you don’t need to thank me.

Things aren’t really getting better. I cry less, but I’ve settled into a perpetual state of missing her. I can forget that she’s gone when I get particularly involved in work, a book, a movie, a game, or something similar. But when I pause, her absence is palpable. I feel a bit selfish continuing to mourn the loss of a person when there is so much else going wrong in the world. Still, she was my world. And I can’t control my emotions.

I value these monthly musings. They encourage me to mourn deeply, to sob. I’m sad much of the rest of the time, but I avoid the deep sorrow. Setting aside some time is the right thing.

Oh! I do remember one thing from my I should write that down list. The other day, I was visiting my primary care physician to talk about a variety of issues, including my depression. And, as normal, I got to fill out the depression and anxiety screening form. One question is how often you feel like something terrible is going to happen. I struggle to answer that question, because one of the most terrible things I can imagine has already happened. As I said, I’m a bit selfish. On the other hand, I also know that we’ll get new terrible news from the government nearly every day. Is that anxiety or just being realistic?

I’ve said that one of my goals for this year is to figure out how I’m going to live without her. So far, it seems to be a failure. I’ve learned that shopping doesn’t fill the gaping void in my life. That’s probably not a surprise. I’ve learned that sleeping until noon most days doesn’t really help. It’s also not much of a surprise. Drinking with friends is nice. I’m generally a happy drunk. I also rarely drink to excess. Drinking with friends is also hard, since I feel her absence then; when we socialized, we socialized together. I don’t think drinking alone or drinking to excess will help. What next? I’m going to see if I can get the house organized (ha!) and whether living in a well-organized space will help. We shall see.

What else? Despite the many Michelle should have been here events, which certainly made me sad, a holiday card spurred my worst sorrow. It went something like this.

Dr. Rebelsky saved my son’s life. So each year, I used to send her a card updating her on what he’s doing. I thought you’d appreciate knowing, too. [Additional details on what a nice young man he’s become.]

Yup, that’s my wife. Saving lives and caring about people. The world is a lesser place without her.

[1] More accurately, I hope we have at least one period each year that we get together at home. Christmas seems like the best time.

[2] These days, it’s a small Santa that the boys hold.

Version 1.0 of 2025-01-08.