Ten months without Michelle (#1361)

Topics/tags: Michelle, disjoint

Michelle passed away ten months ago today. It still feels like I could see her tomorrow. I know she’s gone, but I struggle to fully understand it emotionally.

Like last month, I woke up in the middle of the night / early morning at about the time she passed away. Surprisingly, this month felt much better than last month. Last month, I was sad. This month, I just acknowledged the issue and went back to sleep. On the other hand, I didn’t get out of bed until very late.

I don’t know how I’m doing. It’s strange. One day, I was saying to myself, I feel like I’m doing better. The next, I was bawling at the slightest provocation, such as donating to support MINK-WIC in Michelle’s memory or just talking to a friend about her. Musing makes me sob, too. Looking around and what I get done and, more importantly, what I don’t get done, suggests that I’m struggling to cope. Oh well, I do what I can.

Even my subconscious is confused. One night, I dreamed that I was talking to someone about Michelle. We were discussing why things were still set out as she’d left them. My answer was, approximately, She’s been sick, but we hope she’ll be back soon, so we’re leaving things as they are. I knew she’d been gone for nine months. But my mind (or my dreaming mind) was convinced that she’d still be back.

In reflecting on last month’s musing, I realized that I hadn’t mentioned making it through two more first THING without Michelle in that month. In any case, I made it through Father’s Day and my birthday. The latter was a bit hard because I celebrated my previous birthday in her hospital room, and, at the time, she wasn’t even quite aware that it was my birthday. And the kids were out in California for Youngest’s graduation. That 60th birthday was hard. It helped that two close friends sent a celebration box. This year, I spent my birthday in Maine with two of my three sons. Was it better? I don’t know. Both birthdays were hard. I expect that they’ll get better, even though it’s less likely that I’ll spend them with multiple offspring.

This past month, we celebrated two sons’ birthdays without her. Celebrated is probably a misnomer. We wished them a happy birthday. One was here. One was away at school. I expect we’ll do a small celebration when we next get together. Growing up without your mom is hard. And yes, I realize that they’re grown. They’re still growing.

This coming month, I’ll be celebrating our anniversary alone for the first time. That’s going to be awful. I hope I can reflect on great anniversaries, rather than remembering that our last anniversary is when she returned to the hospital for her final stay. She wasn’t expecting it. She wasn’t ready. I certainly wasn’t, either.

As I said, I’m not looking forward to our anniversary. It will be hard. Middle is also defending his thesis this month. I’m so proud of him, but it will be hard to get through the post-defense celebration. I know all of the Rebelsky men wish she could be there with us. And she wanted to be there. (Sorry, Middle.)

A particular happy memory has presented itself multiple times this month. While Michelle was in the hospital in June and July, William and I had reorganized the downstairs with a lot of help from a great friend. One of the things I did was organize my various Pogo stuff: books, magazines, figurines, plastic cups, and more. When she saw what I’d done, she said something like, I really like how you set up your Pogo collection. Since she wasn’t generally fond of how much I accumulate, I found that particularly meaningful. Perhaps it’s a sign that I need to do more straightening and organizing.

I also miss aspects of Michelle that others didn’t see. I particularly miss the silly Michelle. I even miss the angry Michelle. I’m not up to sharing details about either Michelle, but they are so special to me.

This past month, I watched non-sports TV for one of the first times since she passed away. We watched TV together a lot, especially in the last few years of her life. I must admit that We watched TV together is a bit complicated; I was almost always on my computer while watching, which meant that I was rarely fully engaged with the show. It bothered her that I would regularly ask, What just happened?, but she put up with it. In any case, I watched the latest season of Only Murders in the Building. We’d watched the first three together. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to watch, at least at first. That is, watching didn’t raise strong emotions. But then Kumail showed up as one of the actors. Now that was hard. I love seeing my former research student and advisee in his new profession. Michelle did, too. As you might guess, I was sad that we couldn’t share that together. In any case, I should muse separately about some of her favorite shows; I think the boys would like that.

I’ve found myself thinking about playing games together. We had lots of nights of card games. Canasta was probably the most common, but there were years we played Hearts and Pinochle and more. We played a lot of Backgammon over the years. The backgammon strategy book I bought her early in our marriage was one of the few times she appreciated one of my weirdo gifts. (My love language is giving things; hers was having me do things for her. It led to some complexities.) Early in our marriage, we liked to play Circus Maximus together. She taught us Coup D’Etat. She played Cribbage with the boys. And she was generally willing to put up with whatever strange tabletop game I’d purchased lately. She became very fond of Ticket to Ride, which she played on her phone, and Wingspan. Middle even implemented a version of Hanabi for us to play remotely as a family. I miss playing games with her. I miss spending time with her. I miss so much.

I never feel like I write enough in these musings. Or perhaps I write too much. It’s hard to judge. It’s good to remember. It’s good to cry. It’s probably even good to share. But it’s also good to limit myself. That way, I have more for the next month. And there’s only so much time that I can or should cry, sob, or wail.

Version 1.0 of 2025-08-08.