I have very obviously avoided writing on this blog for an extended period of time. No explanation suffices except to say "words fail me"; at least recently. I have loved words since my childhood. There is an artistic and metaphorical beauty to the use of words. I love how writers mold a unique scene just by the use of words. But, words can cut and wound especially when they metamorphose into thoughts that are painful. So, I have avoided this typing of my thoughts to avoid the pain lurking in the back of my mind. I don't like dragging it out and examining it. But today a word came into my mind as I was walking through downtown Berkeley, CA and through UC Berkeley, to go to the Botanic Gardens. The word jubilant came to my mind. I am not sure why, but I was feeling it. The ocean breezes, ridiculously blue sky, and uphill stroll imbued me with a jubilant attitude. I don't think that I have ever spoken that word before, but it fits. It reminds me of a quote I like by Albert Camus which is "In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer".
I love spending time with my daughter and exploring. And, of course, we are both "foodies" and there is a bounty of good food here.The walk to the Botanic Gardens proved to be too long, although the sights entertained me. One of my friends has a daughter who attends the university, and as fate would have it, I saw her on a motor scooter on Piedmont Av. (a very busy street). She had the same look of determination that she exhibits for all of the sports she plays. I laughed. What fun. Go Khala- Go Bears softball!
And, picture this----(I sound like Sophia on the Golden Girls) Revival Bar and Kitchen in Berkeley: Jeanette and I decided to share food so we could get a taste of the eclectic menu.First, Flatbread with pumpkin, cilantro, bok choy, and cilantro pesto; Second, fairy pumpkin soup with caramelized apples and sage; Third, short ribs with brocolini & squash and turnip potato mash and a demi-glaze sauce covering all; and lastly, caramelized pear with walnut strusel and pear vanilla ice cream. It was sublime. An autumnal feast.
In the last year since Michael's death I have moved in a hodge-podge way through grief. No rhyme, no reason. Some days unfathomable pain, other days melancholy memories, and the best days gratitude for everything he brought into my life. I try to picture him in paradise using his awesome cooking skills and playing his guitar. Since God gave him those gifts, I imagine he enjoys them in heaven.  

I stand eyes to sky. The silence beckons my spirit. Silence---not a lack of noise, but a space for awe. The orbed moon is behind lacy clouds. I would linger if it was not 22 degrees outside. Someday, I will linger in amazement at the splendor, and mystery.
So much of my days in the last 6 months since Michael's accident have been devoted to wearing my cloak of suppression to hide the razor sharp pain.
I should call it my personal ice-age, or hibernation might be appropriate. Or, maybe I am an out of tune instrument unable to make music that is pleasing to the ear. Metaphors abound, but none explain.
I am reading a useful book called One Thoudand Gifts. The author's words are worth pondering:"suffering nourishes grace, and pain and joy are arteries of the same heart---and mourning and dancing are but movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty".

Today it is a little easier to see the joy still present in life. Curt and Christa welcomed baby Jacob into the world. What a beautiful sight he is.

Sweet memories. Soft blankets and baby noises. I loved those days.

I have photos of Michael as a baby scattered on a chest of drawers near my bed. Seeing his curious bright blue eyes everyday soothes the ache that I have managed to smother. I realize that I can't do this "denial thing" forever without paying the consequences, but I don't see an alternative until I finish school in April. Maybe then I will have the time to face reality----or maybe not.

Yesterday it snowed. I had the opportunity to contemplate the gentle beauty of snowflakes while I sat in my car on I-25. Usually, my drive to work is 40 minutes. Yesterday, it took me 2 1/2 hours. It was 18 degrees outside my car and the snowflakes looked like tiny ballerinas dancing toward my windshield---enchanting. I noticed something when I was parked on the freeway---two cups of coffee is great while you are drinking it, but not when you are stranded in the snow.

I noticed something else---snow is beautiful, but I miss California.

Contemplation: to ponder, or meditate---to view or consider with continued attention. At the moment I am pondering the word gratitude. Since Michael's passing I have realized that counting my blessings isn't about making a list of things that make me happy, but it is a mindset of gratitude---even when I am feeling sorry for myself. I am grateful even while I am sad. I am thankful, not for circumstances, but in circumstances.

It has been many weeks since I have written here. This is mostly because of my busy work/school schedule, but also because I had nothing to say. When I decided to make a blog it was with the purpose of not only writing about my grief, but also creating conversations for anyone reading the blog. I also wanted to give myself a space to think in writing. It is an aspect of my own grief to get in the mode of denying my feelings. This does work as a coping skill---if only temporarily.

One of my promises to myself after Michael's accident was to incorporate "Mike-ism's" into my life. Mike was extremely interested in numbers and how they related to life. His favorite numbers were 3 and 7 because of their Biblical references. He liked how intrinsic numbers are to life. I, on the other hand despise anything that relates to math. If it were possible, I would never take another math class; but in finishing my bachelor's degree my University decided to torture me with this subject. This week we studied Probability. It made me think of Michael, and of the creator of Math (no, not the Greeks). This morning I had to write about proofs for the Pythagorean Theorem. When I saw this assignment I wanted to run screaming from my computer, but I had to do it "urgh". I, unbelievably, enjoyed it. The reason that it made me think of Michael is because he knew that numbers always show that there are no coincidences in life. This went along with his intuitiveness. Seven days prior to his accident he met me at Stone Brewery's Bistro. We were there while Austin worked and Jeanette and Dewey met us there. I was talking to Austin and when I turned to look at Michael. His eyes were filled with tears. He grabbed my arm and said that he didn't want me to be sad if something happened to him. When I saw the look on his face my eyes welled with tears too. I said "Honey, don't say that. Nothing is going to happen to you".

There is sense even when life seems senseless. Michael's accident seems senseless to me now, but I know that the God who created math (and me) will also reveal the meaning to me when I see him. In the meantime, I will take another lesson from Mike---to "think differently". Life is rife (yeah I'm a poet) with challenges. Some days I am willing to meet them, and other days I struggle. Today, I am reminded that there is an order to everything and that gives me some peace.

The days come and go with little recognition of time passing. Working and schoolwork take up the majority of my time. The landscape of my grief is littered with thoughts that punch me in the gut, and sweet memories that I cling to. I have a photos on my nightstand of Mike. In one of them he is a baby---nine months old---and he is peeking over my shoulder with his bright blue eyes and his precious face with a look of curiosity. I also have a recent photo and he has that sweet vulnerable look on his face that melts my heart. It was Mike's habit to call me everyday and say "What are you doing?" I miss those calls so much. I miss his unique personality that brought me such joy and frustration. Yes, I even miss the frustration.
Surprisingly, my faith has not taken a hit. But, I don't understand why my family has to be decimated like this. How does this fit into any plan? I'm struggling God----help!
I read a book by Marybeth Chapman (wife of Steven Curtis Chapman) whose daughter died after her brother accidentally hit her with their car. She wrote with unflinching clarity about her grief. I related to every word she wrote. It felt like someone understood that fierce "mommy" love that can't let go.
It seems so unfair, but I already know that life isn't fair. Life is a journey, that at the moment is painfully arduous.

Be thankful for the little things:

Like playing Bunco with the ladies. What a great group of women. They make me laugh and help me forget my broken heart.

A bright full moon peeking out from behind clouds in the night sky.

Winning $11.00 playing Bunco.

A thirst for a deeper knowledge of God.

Memories.

Benadryl---so I can sleep.