Twenty months without Michelle (#1411)

Topics/tags: Michelle

After reading last month’s monthly musing, one of my friends asked whether it was productive to keep track of these anniversaries. I think they were really asking two different things: Should I really need to know how many months it’s been since Michelle passed away, and should I really mark each anniversary with a musing?

It’s complicated.

Marking the anniversaries is unavoidable. When the 8th of a month rolls around, I know it’s an anniversary. I suppose I’ll eventually stop knowing it consciously. Perhaps I’ll even stop knowing it subconsciously [1]. But for now, I know. And once I realize that it’s an anniversary, I’ll want to know how long it’s been. I might as well keep track.

Do I need to muse about it? Probably not. However, I find it useful to spend a bit of time each month focusing on my relationship with Michelle and introspecting on my current state of mind. My friends and family also seem to appreciate reading these. For some reason, few people seem to be as willing to be public about their sorrow [2].

This has been a strange month. I started the month in somewhat uncontrollable sorrow, as I noted in the previous musing.

It didn’t help that people my age (or about my age) seemed to be losing spouses at an ever-increasing rate, including two in the last two months. While neither the survivors nor their spouses were close friends, they are people I knew well enough to chat with on the street, our kids know each other, and we share interests. Michelle and I regularly saw one couple at Des Moines Performing Arts. The other couple included someone even more addicted to vinyl than I am. I hate to welcome them to the community of people who lost their partners too young [3].

Although the month started poorly, something shifted midway through the month. Maybe it was that I finished teaching for the semester and therefore was less stressed. Maybe it was that we had graduation and reunion, so I got to celebrate with people I care about. Maybe it was that Middle Son returned home to visit, along with his awesome SO. Maybe it’s that I got the house a bit straighter.

In any case, something shifted, and I’m no longer falling apart. I wouldn’t say that I’m great. But I’m OK. I cry, but not too much. And I cry about sensible things, such as knowing that Michelle will never meet Middle’s SO. I miss her. I always will. But I can bear her absence. At least I can bear it for the time being.

What will the next month bring? I have no idea. But for now, I’m coping better.

Postscript: For those of you who appreciate the sorrowful writing: Don’t worry! Sometime this month, I will probably muse about what led to her death. Even if I may not include my tears and sobs in that musing, I’m sure that they’ll echo through it.

[1] Even after I stopped anticipating the sorrow that May 11 brings, I found myself feeling out of sorts every May 11. Michelle always remembered, though, and helped me through it.

[2] Some folks claim that I’m particularly articulate; I still don’t see what characteristics lead them to that conclusion. I’m open. I usually write grammatically correct sentences. What else?

[3] Back when Michelle passed, a colleague who had lost their partner at an even younger age said someting like, Welcome to the club. It was one of the most meaningful expressions of sympathy I received.

Version 1.0 of 2026-06-08.