Sunday, June 09, 2013

Missing Michael

Cried myself to sleep last night.
I am not ashamed to say I do that often.
Woke with a poem forming in my brain.
A poet I am not, but I share it anyway.

Away from us
Away from the pain
Letting go on that bright day

Brown eyes dark and dimming
He is not in his eyes
But he is in there, somewhere

Reaching out for one last pet for Boo
His grasps our hands to help him through
His fear is strong, so is his grip

Love flows to him and from him
We stroke and hold him and tell him he is beautiful
and so very much loved

His breathing slows and deepens
Wrenching, racking breaths
One last shuddering breath

And he is gone

I miss you so much
My son, my friend


Dave Matheny said...

Each day I select one memory of Mike to think about. Thank God, I have this huge, wonderful library of memories to draw from. Anyway, wandering through the stacks yesterday, as it were, I came across a fun one, of the time I took the two boys and a couple of other neighborhood kids for a sail on a borrowed sailboat on a nice, hot summer day. The boat was a tiny thing, maybe 12 feet long, a Sunfish, with a single sail. Kevin Wallace was one of the other kids, and it was from his dad that I borrowed the boat. (He never used it; Mrs. Wallace was grimly opposed to frittering away one's time in that way.)

Anyway, I trailered it out to Lake Nokomis. It was a wonderful, breezy day, and we were all completely wet after about one minute. The little boat was intended to carry one person, or an adventurous two if they were small and light, but the five of us just swamped the thing. When we encountered a wave of any size – which on Lake Nokomis meant about nine inches from trough to crest – the little boat would nose into it and threaten never to come back up. So after a few of these dives, I persuaded Michael and (I think) Kevin Wallace to hang off the stern and just get towed along. There was enough hardware back these to hold onto, but it was hard on the fingers. I was the heaviest one aboard, so it ought to have been me back there, but hey, somebody had to handle the boat.

Just three or four years ago, Michael talked about getting a sailboat, and we chewed on that for a while. It would have been fun.

Aimee said...

That sailing memory is so sweet.

Marilyn, I vividly recall Michael reaching for Boo when we arrived that morning. I was thankful that he was aware that his beautiful dog was there.

My heart goes out to you and all who love Michael.

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