Good news: Mike was so happy here in Hawaii. This was the happiest period of his life. What he had to give was appreciated by one and all here. Thank you for your response to him and the great joy you gave him.
Bad news: Mike will no longer be able to give us anything from his enormous storehouse of knowledge, kindness, and love.
Now begins MY YEAR of MAGICAL THINKING; hopefully, mine will be more joyful than Didion's.
Despite going to sleep late, at 11 pm, and having just lost Mike, I slept well. Yvette and I both woke up with the birds, as usual. We went over to breakfast promptly at 8:30 am, unshowered, hoping not to miss the oatmeal again. We were so distracted that both of us walked into the building without taking off our shoes, a requirement at the ashram.
I brought my computer with me, hoping for a better connection than I had in the cabin, and worked on Saturday and Sunday's entries.
Yvette and I spoke about the pictures Damon and Clarence had sent us. We both saw something in them we hadn't seen before. Yvette said Mike looked so happy. She hadn't remembered him looking that way. I saw a facial expression that I don't think I have ever seen before. To me, he was almost unrecognizable. He was completely relaxed with an innocent, naïve joy on his face. I'm inclined to believe this is how he feels now, after his death. It gives me much comfort to think that way. If he's happy, I'll be just fine.
My biggest grief is not for myself right now, it is for the world at large. Mike had so much left to offer in knowledge, kindness, and love. It feels like the loss of a young person who still had so much life ahead of him.
Dr. Izawa, the specialist in Mike's case, called. He is back from his week and a half away at a conference. He expressed his condolences. We talked a little about Mike's condition. He said again, he might have tried to operate, but it was unlikely that Mike could have survived in his weakened state. He told me that his lungs were so compromised from his time in the hospital, that surviving at all was unlikely.
I knew his lungs were a big problem. I asked if he could have been saved if they but the nasal gastric tube in sooner and prevented bile from being sucked into his lungs the second time. He had an NG tube in when he was in the ICU the first time. He explained the problems with doing it as well as the issues with not doing it. Nothing is clear cut. I'm glad to know this. As grieving family members who are decision-makers do, I started beating myself up for what I had done and not done. Was I responsible for his death in some way because I actually enjoyed my time alone when he was traveling?
I know that these thoughts are not rational. I believe they are driven not so much by assuming we have more power than we actually have, as neurologically driven thinking. We are social animals. When someone in our tribe is in trouble, we have to have an immediate reaction to help them. Afterward, we have to think through what we did and did not do so we can learn from the experience and do a better job the next time. The emotional end of the reaction is God-given so that we all work to preserve not only our own lives but the lives of others.
Dr. Izawa also talked about how weird it was that he suffered from this disease. The most common causes of pancreatitis are alcohol consumption and gall stones. Tom, our friend who has been sending us encouragement, reminding us that he survived a severe bout of this disease, had gall stones. He said he was told at the time that this problem could not lead to pancreatitis. He is reading this, and I can tell him now that it is considered a common cause by the medical profession. For those of you who don't know, the only alcohol Mike consumed was the communion wine at mass, and a very occasional glass at dinner, very occasional.
Another, less common, cause is high triglycerides. Mike's were somewhat high but not enough to be a possible cause of this disease. Izawa said besides that there are medications and dialysis, but both of these are rare. He said there is one other category, "I don't know."
Whatever Mike's case is weird. We'll just have to leave it that; God had other plans for Mike. I often told him while he was lying there, "You have done enough; you have been enough. You don't have to do anymore."
Now to get to work on funeral plans. Fr. Lio had said it would be good to have his body, but that means getting him embalmed here in Honolulu and shipping him in whatever carrying case he has to be in to Kona – and then getting him cremated in Kona. How's that for a big deal?
Today, I made my decision on how to deal with Mike's body – other than to have it resurrected at the earliest possible convenience. Everyone on both sides of our family has been cremated, so that's a no-brainer. The question was should his body be whole and in a coffin for the funeral as Fr. Lio wanted. I was inclined to have his body embalmed, placed in a coffin, shipped to Kona, and then cremated. I called to ask Damon what he wanted. Damon was clear: cremation from the get-go. This means a funeral parlor in Honolulu will collect his body, cremate it and mail the urn to me. Having him shipped whole to Kona is much more complicated, and expensive. That left me wondering what I wanted. I wanted a coffin because I wanted something to physically embrace. Damon said, "I bet they make urns you can hug." Within minutes, he had located two options. What a sweetheart! That made letting go of my thoughts of having a coffin at the funeral much easier. Mike won't be huggable anyway, and hugging a wooden box doesn't quite cut it.
Damon called to tell me that Dr. Izawa called him too to offer condolences. Damon invited him to the funeral. Izawa said yes, he would like to come. I think most people who met the people who visited realized that Mike was an amazing man before his illness struck and us.
The date of the funeral has been decided. Fr. Lio called and told me that March 26 would be good because it would be an easy day for many priests to come. This was a weird coincidence because my dad died on March 26, 1956. It made me wonder. But, Damon wants the 30th because he, his wife and son, can come without his son having to miss another day of school. The 30th it is. There are priests Mike got to know well and I hope they can make it; but I can't imagine Mike needs priests he hasn't had extensive contact with to come.
I spoke to Jean, Damon's mother, today too. She said she probably wouldn't make it to the funeral. She had made two trips to Hawaii already in a month, each time Mike wound up in the ICU. These are short stays with long, long flights. It's exhausting. I could understand if she said never again. But, we talked about the possibility of her coming for the funeral and staying a few weeks. She and her husband have done that each year we have been living here, and did it when we lived in Ohio, too. We are all good friends. Divorce is never great. Having parents and steps who get along and love each other is the best alternative. We talked about her coming out and helping me sort out Mike's stuff.
On that note: some felt that in Mike’s weakened condition that he lacked dignity. I object. Mike never lacked dignity. There is nothing that could strip him of his humanity, of his integrity, and his ability to be a loving person, nothing. I take umbrage at the very idea that we only have dignity when we come from a place of strength and control. Yvette, our goddaughter, has posted pictures on Facebook, showing Mike and me together in bed at the end, and herself and Mike. She not only had my consent, but she had my wholehearted encouragement.
I spent most of the day at the ashram at a table in the sunshine and high wind, going through the mail Yvette brought from Kona. Not knowing how long I would be in Honolulu, I became concerned that bills would mount up unpaid. I did them now because the paper weighed a ton and didn't want to carry them back home.
Mike is the proud owner of some 3,000 books. His will says he wants to leave it to the Seminary where he worked. He originally wanted it to go to Mowgli, Yvette's brother, and our godson, but that seemed impractical. He rents, moves often, and frequently shares an apartment with roommates. Where would he put all those books? I called the rector of the Seminary. He said they would take Mike's books, but I could hear the hesitation in his voice. The seminary library is small, 3,000 books would be overwhelming. He said he had at least 1,000 books himself. That poor librarian. I assured Mike that I would give his books to the Seminary, and they would welcome them. Okay, so I lied. I wanted him to go in peace and know that his will would be done on earth. What can I tell you? The rector said he would ask the librarian and get back to me. Since I understood his ambivalence, I suspect he's forgotten about it, gratefully. I will push. I am thinking of others who would want some of Mike's books. It means that the collection which he so cherished will be broken up, but this is the best I can do.
Yvette and I had lunch today at the ashram. Lunch is better than dinner, mainly because it is the same food that is set out at lunch and sits there for the rest of the day. I always found the food at dinner good, too.
I made the decision to go home tomorrow. No, I am not looking forward to walking into the house and finding no Mike to greet me after I have been gone for over a month. I am scared.
Lina, the diaconate secretary, made the flight reservation for me. I thanked her and John Coughlin for taking care of that for me and saving me one unfamiliar task. Yvette was able to get on the same flight home with a seat right next to mine.
In preparation for going home, we had to pack. We got all the shopping bags out of the trunk of the car and brought them to the cabin. We laid everything out and put them in the hard suitcase Yvette brought, and the rip-stop nylon duffle bag Damon brought me on his first trip to Hawaii. Remember, I couldn't take a suitcase on the ambulance plane and had everything in shopping bags. I think we are good to go. The only stopping point might be Honolulu Elsa, really a big white teddy bear I bought at Target. I do want to take it back home. It had spent time with Mike in the hospital before Judy sent a little stuffed dog that looks exactly like our Havanese. Amazing!
My friend Jean called to say how sorry she was and how much she loved Mike and me. For some reason I can't remember, she was at the airport one day with us when I dropped off Mike for one of his weekend jaunts. I got out of the car to kiss him good-bye. Jean said she was struck by the love between us that she saw in that kiss. She said Mike and I were soulmates. I like to think Mike and I worked for that relationship. Yes, there was something there in our energy exchange in the beginning, but to keep that going took commitment and work.
Jean's husband, Randy, spent some time with Mike at the beach. While Jean and Randy were sitting in their home in Tucson at the moment of Mike's extubation, he talked about a day he and Mike spent at the beach together. He said they played together in the waves like young boys. More testimony to Mike's capacity for love and joy.
Yvette and I went over to the dining room at the ashram for dinner. Neither of us was very hungry. I had some salad, and Yvette had a small cup of soup. When we got back to the cabin, she told me that Josh, her husband, had a device on his phone that allowed him to know where Yvette is at all times. (No, he is not a control freak, not at all. In fact, quite to the contrary. It just saves him from worrying about her.) He told her that this app showed that she was frequently at a vegetarian restaurant. He was puzzled as to why she would spend so much time there. Yvette told him that it listed the ashram that way, which also functions as a restaurant.
I sat and wrote, Yvette did something with her phone. She's not a game player; she's a communicator. She is an excellent communicator. She uses her skills to bring joy to all those she knows. That is her intent.
