Fourteen months without Michelle (#1382)

Topics/tags: Michelle

Michelle passed away fourteen months ago today. I’m not sure that I’m up to writing a lot today. I cried a lot on Saturday, and I don’t relish the opportunity to let the tears flow quite that much today. I regret that my muse isn’t satisfied with that approach. She insists that I write something. Perhaps I can let words flow, rather than tears.

I’m finding myself increasingly saddened by the start of October. I’d forgotten that Matthew Shepard was attacked and beaten on October 6th. October 7th is a date few of us will forget. Or at least I won’t. And October 8th? That’s the day I lost Michelle. Part of me wants to check on the 5th and the 9th; that seems to invite sorrow.

I made it through a Thanksgiving without her and through her 61st birthday. Two Friendsgivings helped with the former. Writing about her helped with the latter. I’m still not sure how Christmas is going to go. I’d planned to put up the tree and ornaments, but haven’t had the emotional energy. The kids tell me that they don’t care; a little tree will do. But I’d like to get the ornaments out. We’ll see how that goes.

The other day, a student asked a question akin to Your wife was a pediatrician, wasn’t she? It’s hard to explain that we don’t have pediatricians in Grinnell (or at least we didn’t). Michelle acted as an OB/GYN, a pediatrician, a gerontologist, and more. She treated people from birth to death. She treated whole families. She (and most of the family docs in town) was an old-fashioned family practitioner. And she loved it. She felt like she had much better insight into patients when she knew the broader context. She was also talented at asking about other family members without breaking confidentiality. As I said, she loved what she did.

I’m not sure what family traditions will continue and what we’ll drop. One of the boys has already watched The Year Without A Santa Claus. Still, I assume we’ll watch it together. I may try to put all of our Heat Miser and Snow Miser ornaments out together, even if I don’t decorate the tree. (That’s not a tradition; it’s something new to try.) I’m not sure whether or not the kids will be up to watching a bunch of cheesy Hallmark-style movies; they weren’t last year. We should make some kind of Christmas dinner. Middle usually lights the Hannukkah candles, but that runs from the 14th through the 21st, and he won’t be home until the 23rd or 24th. We haven’t made large quantities of cookies in a few years; at least I don’t recall doing so. But we’ll definitely take the Santa picture. And we’ll definitely wear matching PJs.

As I mentioned recently, I miss buying her presents. I think she’d be happy to hear that I’ve bought the kids fewer presents than usual. None of us really needs anything. I’m not sure we want anything, either, except to have her here.

Damn! I said I didn’t want the tears to flow again. And yet the last few words of the last sentence of that last paragraph hurt far too much. Flow, they must.

Since the tears have started, the words can stop.

I’ll write more next month.

Version 1.0 of 2025-12-08.