Archive for the ‘Widowhood’ Category
Guest Blog at Murder X 4 Is Up . . .
Folks, when writer Aaron Paul Lazar asked me if I was willing to write a guest blog for his shared blog site Murder x 4, I leaped, yelled, and said yes . . . though of course only the last part was verbalized as I didn’t want to scare the dogs.
Aaron asked me if I had anything Christmas-themed that might be interesting, and as my relationship with my late husband Michael started around Christmas of 2001 — and as I have two of his stories up at Amazon right now that are desperately in need of new readers, “A Dark and Stormy Night” and “Joey Maverick: On Westmount Station” — I decided to talk about that. And because Murder X 4 is a writer’s blog site where they often talk about the process of writing, I asked if it was OK to talk about everything I’ve done to keep Michael’s words and work alive.
Fortunately for me, Aaron said yes.
Those of you who’ve known me a while, or who’ve faithfully read my blog posts since I was coerced — er, convinced to start blogging will most likely know why I’ve done my best to keep Michael’s work alive. Even though it’s now at least partly mine, and at least some of the choices I’ve made might not be the choices he would’ve made, I had to try.
Michael meant everything to me, and in many ways, he still does. So I just couldn’t bear the thought of his work not getting any chance to find a readership . . . bad enough he was dead, but did his work have to die out, too?
Not everyone is going to like what I’ve done. I know that.
I also know that some people have told me along the way that Michael is dead, I’m not, and that it doesn’t really matter if his work stays alive. Michael, had he lived, would’ve undoubtedly written more things, and he might not even have wanted these particular works to stand.
But I knew Michael very well, and the people who’ve told me this other stuff did not. Michael did not give up, not on himself, not on other people. He was trying to figure out how to get action into his novel about Joey Maverick (MAVERICK, LIEUTENANT) at the time of his passing; he and I were both wracking our brains to figure out what he could add that wouldn’t blow his premise completely out of the water. (That premise being “quiet heroism,” which I discussed in today’s guest blog.)
Michael definitely would’ve kept trying to figure it out, and I can’t believe he’d have let these adventures rot.
But he almost certainly would’ve found other ways toward the same ends . . . and I truly wish he were alive so he would’ve found them, rather than me doing my poor best toward getting whatever I possibly can done.
Still, as a good friend of mine told me a few nights ago, the important thing is to write something Michael would’ve liked and enjoyed reading. Michael would like what I’ve done, by that logic, and even if he quibbled with me as to how I got things done, he’d still like it that I did it.
That’s why I’ve kept trying, both on his behalf and my own.
Anyway, please do go read my guest blog, and see what you think of my efforts. Then come back here, if you would, and tell you if it makes any sense . . . I just know it’s what I have to do, or else I’ve failed.
And I refuse to fail.
A September 2012 Update
Folks, September is always a difficult month for me, because this is the month my wonderful husband Michael passed away. That I’m dealing with a sinus infection that refuses to go away is not helping.
I’m enjoying the Milwaukee Brewers and their recent run to respectability, as they’re now 66-69, only three games below .500.
Other than that, I’m continuing to work away while dealing with the most difficult month on the schedule . . . for the moment, at least at FB, I have a picture of myself with my late husband Michael up as one of the folks on FB complained that anyone who is unwilling to show his/her face must not be much of a person. Normally I’d shrug this off, but I figured just this once I’d put up my picture with Michael, explain why I normally do not use it, and go on from there . . . clear as mud, right?
More status updates as I get them.
July 2012 Odds and Ends
I’ve had a number of comments recently about various things, but none of them have reached the level of a full blog post. So here goes with the latest edition of Odds and Ends.
First, I’m taking the summer off from watching television. This is the main reason I haven’t written about the fourth season of “Drop Dead Diva,” despite all the hits I’ve had on my review of the season three finale. I do know that Fred the angel is off the show and there’s a new angel there instead — an impossibly gorgeous male who, sight unseen, bothers me. But that’s the only thing I’ve really gathered, aside from the fact that Kim Kardashian seems to have a recurring role this season.
Second, the Wisconsin GOP has, quite predictably, slammed the District 21 state Senate election, all because Democrat John Lehman won over R Van Wanggaard. Rep. Robin Vos (R-Rochester) has led a number of prominent Rs in proclaiming that the Racine elections had “numerous errors” and that supposedly, Racine County must get its act together before the November elections — all because we had the temerity to throw out our one-year Senator when the rest of the state held the course.
I have no problem with former Senator Wanggaard saying “I shall return!” as if he’s a modern-day incarnation of General Douglas MacArthur, because he’s a politician and that’s what politicians of either party tend to say. (Maybe not quite so stridently as Wanggaard. But then again, as the only R to go down on June 5, 2012, I suppose he must feel terrible.) Nor am I upset with Wanggaard for asking for a recount, pointing out various issues he and his staff have been alerted to, etc. — he’s a politician, so he has to say those things. And considering he lost by less than 2% of the vote, I suppose that’s his right.
My problem remains with the Wisconsin GOP as a whole; they didn’t slam Waukesha County in 2011 when there were massive problems there — problems that make the City and County of Racine’s issues look extremely small in comparison — because those problems benefitted them.
So, if an election goes the Rs way, even if there are terrible and systemic problems with a County Clerk like Waukesha’s Kathy Nickolaus, the Rs are OK with it. But if the election goes the way of the Ds, the Rs aren’t standing for it, even though whatever problems Racine had were due to an overwhelmingly high turnout (the highest on record for any election, including Presidential elections), nothing more. That’s why the WI GOP’s stance regarding Racine County’s recall election smacks of sour grapes as well as political expediency; I remain unimpressed.
Third, what on Earth does the United States House of Representatives, led by Republican Speaker of the House John Boehner, think they’re doing taking vote after vote to repeal Obama’s national health care plan? (Especially as they know, just as the rest of us do, that the US Senate will never go along with them.) Here we are in a jobless recovery; the economy, overall, is terrible. We need jobs, we need more economic development, and we need it right now. Yet they’d rather waste our time, and our taxpayer dollars, by taking these unnecessary votes. This is political grandstanding and it should not be tolerated. Period!
Fourth, are the Milwaukee Brewers going to get any better this year? And will Zack Greinke stay a part of the team? Stay tuned.
Fifth, and finally, the summer is a bad time for me. It’s not just my asthma, or other associated summertime health woes, which have been exacerbated as we’re having one of the hottest, driest summers on record in SE Wisconsin. It’s that I have a number of important dates on the calendar that I observe — my wedding anniversary. My late husband’s birthday (even though he didn’t observe it). Etc. — and the fact that I must observe them alone, always alone, is a trial.
Look. I despise the fact that I’m a widow. (Very few people will come right out and say this, but I will.) If I had the power, my husband would be alive right now and I’d not be typing out these words. But I’m human, mortal, fallible, all that, and I don’t have that power.
What I do every day is to try to find some meaning, some purpose, in whatever remains of my life. I continue to write (as you see). I continue to edit. I play my instruments. I compose music when I have the time, energy, and ideas. I talk with my friends, as I’m able . . . all the things I have to do in order to continue to stay alive in any sense.
But of course it’s difficult to be without the love of my life. I’d be lying if I said anything else.
And that difficulty is made much worse because the person who understood me best since that time is also dead — my good friend Jeff, whom I’ve discussed many times on this blog. That I haven’t been able, as of yet, to go to Colorado and make any peace whatsoever with his passing has assuredly not helped.
I know it doesn’t matter — would never matter — to Jeff where I mourn. But it would help me to go there and visit the places he told me about. Which is why at some point I will go there; it’s just a matter of when. Let us hope that down the line, I will find enough work at a good rate of remuneration, so I can finally take that trip.
Valentine’s Day 2012 — A Slow, Quiet Day
Today was a slow, quiet day in most respects; I mostly focused on editing. But then I realized that I hadn’t posted a blog subject in several days (bad, bad me), so that’s why you’re seeing a new one even though I have little to say of consequence.
That being said, let’s get to it.
Folks, those of you who have living spouses and/or significant others, I hope you’ve had a wonderful Valentine’s Day.
For the rest of y’all, who are in my position — that is, widows and widowers — do your best to remember how it felt to be fully alive in all senses, and how it felt to love and be loved in return. That’s the best way we have to honor our loved ones, so treasure those memories and do not surrender them even if (when?) you manage to find someone new to love down the road. Because if someone falls in love with you, they have to fall in love with every part of you, not just the parts they like — or the parts that are easiest to love. And as a wise man once told me, “Michael was a very big part of your life. How you could possibly excise him in order to tempt someone else into a relationship is beyond me. So don’t listen to anyone who tells you not to talk about Michael, because that person is, as you say, ‘plain, flat wrong.'” (Three guesses as to who said this, and the first two don’t count.)
Anyway, this is what I said last year, and it still holds true for this year and many years to come:
https://elfyverse.wordpress.com/2011/02/14/valentines-day-for-love-not-conspicuous-consumption/
So remember, folks; V-Day should be all about love, not all about what gifts you give (or get in return).
Enjoy!
Music, Remembrance, and Observations
Folks, this is a difficult blog to write, mostly because I’ve been struggling with my grief process over the loss of my good friend, Jeff Wilson, all week long. (Well, really since he died, but this week it hit hard and fast, and just hasn’t really let up for very long.) Couple that with the holidays, and with missing my late husband Michael something fierce, well . . . let’s just say that I haven’t really had an enjoyable few weeks and save steps, shall we? (The sinus infection I’ve been dealing with hasn’t helped, either.)
What keeps me going despite these difficult and frustrating times? My music, that’s what. Music has a profound resonance for me, partly because I’ve spent most of my life studying it, and partly because I think better in music than words. (Strange, but true.)
Next Tuesday, I’ll play the first concert since making a bit of a comeback as a musician out at the University of Wisconsin-Parkside in Kenosha. The UW-Parkside Wind Ensemble and Community Band will perform, both singly and together; as first chair alto saxophone in the Community Band, I will be playing an extended solo in a piece called “Roma.” I’m looking forward to the concert, and I hope those of my friends and family who attend will enjoy it.
That being said, it feels very strange to me to be playing a concert at this time. I’m not one hundred percent right, not physically (even without the sinus infection, my hands continue to give me fits due to my carpal tunnel syndrome), and certainly not emotionally due to the recent loss of my friend Jeff. But that’s not any sort of excuse to keep me from doing whatever I can; I refuse to sit on the sidelines just because I am not in the musical shape I’d rather be in, or the physical shape, either.
The last time I played a concert, it was before I had met my late husband Michael — while Michael heard me practice many times, he never got a chance to hear me play in a concert, something I will always regret. Now, Jeff is also gone; while he was there encouraging me through both rounds of occupational therapy in the last year, which helped me regain enough of my abilities to again be able to play my saxophone (and play reasonably well), he is no longer able to hear me tell him how things are going, much less get a chance to hear a recording of the concert itself. (With his health issues the last five weeks of his life, that would’ve been the only way for him to hear me play unless I’d been able to get out there and play for him in person. Which of course I also wanted to do.)
So the two people who were the most important to me in this life are gone. I can’t do anything about that, other than wish with all my heart and soul that they were still here . . . and that’s not enough. (I’m sorry. I wish it was, but it really isn’t.)
What I’m going to try to do, therefore, is play and hope that wherever they are, they’ll hear it and know I’m doing everything in my power to regain my musical abilities. That meant a lot to them, and I’m sure that wherever they are now, it still does — so for the moment, all I can do is save up my experiences and hope that down the line, I’ll again be able to share with them how I felt about what I was doing in some sort of meaningful way (even if it has to be in the positive afterlife, not here).
Music, ’tis said, is a great healer. All I know is, it helps me to be able to play right now, even though nothing is going to be able to take this pain away because I miss my husband. I miss my good friend. And I wish very much that they were still with me in this life, because I really would’ve liked to see their faces after I finished, triumphantly, playing my solo in “Roma.”
Just reviewed “Unnatural Issue” for SBR — and a few thoughts
Folks, I just reviewed Mercedes Lackey’s “Unnatural Issue” for Shiny Book Review and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Before I forget, let me give you the link to this review:
Now, as for everything else . . . it’s June 24, 2011. That means it’s been nine years since my husband Michael and I married, which is a wonderful thing — but it’s been seven years that I’ve now observed my wedding anniversary alone due to his untimely passing, which is awful. The dual nature of this day makes it a difficult one to get through, yet somehow I’ve made it to this point and I’m glad.
Remembering my husband Michael, his bright mind, his kind heart, his lively wit, his incredibly sensitive and spiritual soul, is a joy no matter what day it is. I’ve never met anyone else like Michael, not in all my life, and I doubt I ever will again. Truly, Michael was a Renaissance Man in every single possible respect and I’m grateful we were able to meet and then, later, to marry. Because being with him for even a short time was worth it.
All that said, reading “Unnatural Issue” was difficult because it was about a widower who takes his grief way too far. Because he has magical talent, he’s able to raise the dead if he wants and since he misses his wife so much, he’s resolved to do just that — more than that, he’s willing to end his daughter’s life in order to do this, because his daughter means nothing (his wife died giving birth to her) and his wife meant everything.
Mercedes Lackey is a pro, and she knew what she was doing in setting up the story this way. She wanted to show that grief can sometimes be a horrible thing. Richard Whitestone (the father in this tale) has forgotten his wife’s bright spirit and only wants her back because he sees her as a possession, or maybe a bit more accurately, a part of himself that’s missing. And while that’s true that in marriage “two become one,” it’s wrong to bring back someone who has died, especially in the way Richard Whitestone tries to do it.
I believe, very strongly, that Michael’s spirit is alive. And I am glad of that, because I would not be able to handle believing that everything he ever was has gone out of this universe — it would be anathema to me that any Deity figure I would care to follow would do this, and even if we don’t have a Deity to have to deal with, I refuse to believe that someone as extraordinarily good and special as Michael could arise due to a cosmic accident.
I see love as something that is eternal. And I look forward, someday, to rejoining him in eternity. But I cannot and will not hasten that day, as I know Michael will always be there and I’m certain would want me to get whatever good I can out of this life. And there’s still our stories to write and edit and do my best to publish, and editing to do for other people . . . and to play on occasion when my hands will let me.
Anyway, I will continue to do my best to see Michael for what he was and what I believe he still is — a force for good, whether in this world or the next. And a profoundly creative and spiritual individual, besides, someone I was proud to call “husband.”
Just reviewed “The Dragon Variation” and “Mouse and Dragon” at SBR; Comments.
Folks, here’s the link before I forget:
Now, a few comments from me (otherwise known as the peanut gallery):
These books are excellent. Truly outstanding. Magical, even . . . they get all the emotions right. All the mores right. All the cultural issues right. The language is impressive, the descriptions are just right, and the romances are conflicted, realistic, sometimes amusing and touching, all at once.
I wish I could write this like this pair of authors, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller; I truly do.
The end of my review talked about the emotional, powerful impact MOUSE AND DRAGON had on me. MOUSE AND DRAGON is about the too-brief marriage of Aelliana Caylon and Daav yos’Phelium, and is realistic in so many ways about what happens to a widower when his spouse dies that I can’t even tote them up on a toteboard. That Aelliana’s presence sticks around (more or less in ghost form) is not the most amazing part of this achievement; it’s that Sharon Lee and Steve Miller — neither of whom have been widowed as far as I know — got it right that our deceased spouses do live on. In us.
One of the issues I’ve had with widowhood from the beginning is that I didn’t know how to express my feelings over the loss of my husband beyond rage, despair, extreme frustration and loss. It’s really hard to lose a spouse when you’re only thirty-nine years old, and you’ve only had a few, short years together. Blissful years, sure. But still — far too short.
The entire story of Daav’s marriage — how he met Aelliana, in SCOUT’S PROGRESS. How he married her, then lost her, in MOUSE AND DRAGON. How he dealt with her continued presence in FLEDGLING and SALTATION — has now been sketched out. It is a stunning achievement, one that I can’t praise highly enough; it shows two extremely intelligent people who are constrained by circumstances that manage to forge a life together, then manage to keep on loving each other in a meaningful way after one of the pair’s physical death.
Daav’s solution — which I will discuss here, but I warn you it is a spoiler if you haven’t read the end of MOUSE AND DRAGON, or any of FLEDGLING or SALTATION — is to immerse himself in an alternate identity, Jen Sar Kiladi, and thus take a lover. He has a child, Theo Waitley, by his lover, who is a half-sibling of his son Val Con yos’Phelium by his wife, Aelliana Caylon. And Aelliana has stuck around; she still views herself as Daav’s wife, and despite him taking a lover (at her insistence, I might add), nothing has changed for them as far as their feelings go. It’s just that because she no longer has a physical body, she can’t meet all his physical needs.
I’ve been pondering this. I think there’s something here that might help me, psychologically, deal with something I’ve really not wanted to have to think about — possibly being with another man.
You see, Michael was the ultimate in my experience. The best husband (as I had two previous ones, believe you me, I know how good a husband he was). The best, and most supportive person, I have ever had the privilege to know, yet he was not sycophantic and would tell me off if he felt the need (which, fortunately for me, was rarely).
How do you go beyond “the ultimate?” How do you find any meaning with anyone else?
I don’t know, but I’m finally willing to at least consider the possibility that someone extraordinary — someone like Kamele Waitley was for Daav/Jen Sar — might exist out there.
I’d best end this now, or I’ll get maudlin — and trust me, none of us need that.
The Holidays are here: Reflections on Grief.
Grieving people are often wholly misunderstood, even by friends and family members. And when holidays come around, that misunderstanding tends to become magnified tenfold, if not hundred-fold . . . simply put, oft-times the “advice” you get from the well-meaning is not worth the time to listen to it.
A case in point being the saying, “You need to move on” from your grief.
Move on to what, exactly?
I mean, here I am — I loved my husband with all my soul and all my strength, and I still love him to this day. I will always love him, and I don’t see anything wrong with that — the only difference between me and another grieving widow is that it’s been six years and three months (plus a day) since my husband died, and by this time most widows don’t say anything about how much they still miss their husbands. (Widowers, either, about their wives.)
Well, I’m tired of that unwritten rule, and here’s why.
When you love someone, you tell them. Often. You do good things for them. Often. You let others know that you care about your loved ones, as often as you can get away with it, and without pushing your relationship in someone else’s face, you do whatever you can to keep that relationship alive — a living, breathing thing. And everyone understands that, so long as your spouse, or your family member, or your friend, or even your beloved pet, is still alive.
But once that person (or pet) is dead, all bets are off. Suddenly, you’re not supposed to talk about the person any more, because he or she is dead. Even though you love him or her just as much as you did yesterday, and you appreciate his or her presence in your life for as long as he or she was able to stay, you’re now supposed to say nothing because “it’s not done.”
In fact, as a widow or widower, you’re supposed to take your wedding ring off, and prepare to date someone else, or there’s something wrong with you. (Like Hell there is, but that’s another issue entirely.)
So now, you’re not only not supposed to talk about the person you love so much, but you’re also supposed to surrender your most prized possession — your wedding ring — because “it’s not done” to keep wearing it.
I have news for anyone who thinks this way: you are being ridiculous.
I can’t make your decisions for you about how you grieve, nor whether you date again, nor how soon you date again, or anything else, because that’s all up to you. (As it should be.) But I categorically refuse to let anyone make my decisions for me.
My husband Michael was the most important, most valuable person in my entire life. Bar none. I refuse to stop talking about him — about his influence on me as a writer. As a person. As an editor. As anything — because what we had together was priceless. Invaluable. And well worth remembering and honoring.
Holidays are extremely difficult. I miss my husband with every breath I take. And I want him back . . . oh, how I want him back.
But all I can do is continue on. Keep trying. Keep creating. Keep his work alive, along with my own, and of course along with anything we started together.
Holidays, to me at least, are not entirely about spending time with family, though I do a good bit of that. And they aren’t all about gift-giving (financially, that’s out), though I do think a great deal about those less fortunate than me and pray for the best outcomes possible.
No.
Holidays, to me, are about remembrance. Are about love. Are about honor, and shared sacrifice, and about dreams becoming the truth — because, you see, Michael and I made our commitments to each other around this time eight years ago today.
And I would never, ever, wish to “move on” from remembering that.
My uncle Wayne died today at 74.
With great sadness I pass along this news . . . my uncle Wayne, who was a brilliant man who’d been a husband, a father, a psychologist, a military veteran, and much more, died today at the age of 74.
Two-plus months ago, my uncle went into the hospital for a heart operation. It was thought that if he had the operation, and it was successful, it would buy him a few more years of comfortable living. At the time, my uncle was suffering from congestive heart failure and a number of other ailments, and he wasn’t enjoying being slowed down by illness (as he’d always been active, before), so he felt he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. So he had the operation.
At any rate, he was on the operating table for twelve to fourteen hours, I believe (I may be misremembering), and it took him nearly two weeks to come out of the coma he was in after surviving that operation. I know my aunt was told he might not come out of the coma and if he didn’t, they needed to talk with her about “pulling the plug” — that is, ending his life — but fortunately he did come out of the coma.
When he did, though, he didn’t always know his wife, and he was paralyzed on one side of his body. Physical and occupational therapy was started, which made my uncle very tired — I heard all of this from my Mom, his sister, who heard it directly from my aunt himself — and he had some good days and some bad (the worst being when he was diagnosed with MRSA in his lungs, which caused pneumonia and worse).
They tried a lung procedure a few days ago to see if that would give him some ease of breathing, because he wasn’t able to breathe without the respirator and even with it, his breath came short and fast. (Once again, I was not there — this is all third-hand, but seems accurate. I truly wish I were not among the vast numbers of America’s unemployed or I’d have found a way to take my mother to see her brother, as he lived in another state that was over 600 miles away.) The procedure did not work.
My Mom got the call from my aunt yesterday that the doctors had told my aunt that my uncle Wayne could endure no more, and that his death was imminent. Then we waited, while I did my best not to disrupt my father’s 74th birthday celebration (my parents are long-divorced) because while he knew and liked my uncle, he wouldn’t have appreciated hearing anything bad on his birthday. (Trust me. This was for the best.)
And today, the news came a bit past 12:00 noon that my uncle Wayne had died.
I feel numb, maybe because I was hoping for a miracle. Wayne had rallied at least twice before and I knew he wanted to live, very strongly. But in this case, he just wasn’t able to do any more . . . he had to leave his wife, and his children, and his grandchildren, and his sister (my Mom), and his nieces and nephews, etc., behind.
My uncle was not religious, though he went to the Unitarian Universalist church for the fellowship it offered. He was agnostic, and as such I’d not want to wish him to be in a positive afterlife if that’s truly not what he wanted. (Some people just want to end after this life, and not have an afterlife of any sort, and I believe that my uncle was most likely in this category.) So my usual well-wishes, hollow though they tend to be, are not adequate to this occasion in any case . . . all I can do is wish my aunt well, which I have done, and pray that somehow, some way, all the distress she endured over the past ten-plus weeks will be worth it to her. Somehow.
I am a widow and I would never, ever wish this state on anyone else. It is incredibly difficult to wake up every day, alone, wishing like fire that my beloved husband, Michael, will somehow be beside me, alive again, and that everything I’ve endured is a horrible dream. I’ve even wished, at times, that I were in a coma and that I was dreaming all of this — that he’s alive, somehow and in some way, and that I will rejoin him and everything will be as it was.
But because I do believe in a positive afterlife, I at least have that to hope for, while my aunt, it seems to me, may not be able to hope for that (though I hope in her case that I’ve misread my uncle and that she can — she knows him far, far better than I ever could). And I do wish for that positive afterlife, for more long walks with my husband, for more conversation, for more thoughts on books and baseball and “life, the universe and everything,” what I was blessed to have for the three years I knew Michael and the two years, two months and twenty-eight days we had of marriage on this plane of existence.
Life is short, folks. It truly is. And that’s why I wish those of you who still have your spouses or significant others to enjoy them to the fullest and appreciate them as much as you possibly can even on the bad days. Even though the economy is bad, and you may be suffering financially like never before, try to be grateful for the love you have all around you, and store up those memories.
I’ve found that you can live a long time on them, if need be . . . .
New book review — LMB’s “Cryoburn” — plus remembering my husband, Michael
I reviewed Lois McMaster Bujold’s new novel about Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, Cryoburn, at the “sister” site Shiny Book Review this evening. Please go to this link:
All I’ll say here is, Cryoburn is worthy, interesting, and weighty — but not a pleasure-read by any stretch of the imagination. Make sure you are prepared for this, as Cryoburn, simply put, is all about death — and potential revival, for those who elect it — and that is not an easy or lightweight subject to contemplate.
And as for the writing of the review, it was far more difficult than I’d anticipated. I really, really like Lois McMaster Bujold’s writing — I like it a whole lot. But a novel about death, and about the survivors of those who’ve died but may yet be revived — well, it’s not an easy novel to enjoy, let’s put it that way. (At least not for me as a widow.)
******** SPOILER AND REMEMBRANCE ALERT ********
Reading Cryoburn stirred up all sorts of issues I thought I’d dealt with in my grief cycle, because I completely understood why Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan made the choice she did at the very end (in her “drabble,” a short bit of story in 100 words). I would’ve done exactly as Cordelia, and for the same reasons, were our medical technology more advanced at the time of my beloved husband Michael’s passing; if a man has brain damage, and it is extensive — whether it’s from lack of oxygen or whatever else — and medical science cannot bring him back to the level he was before the brain damage, what kind of life would that be?
Fortunately I did not have to make that determination. Michael fought hard for life and I knew he wanted to stay with me. I desperately wanted him to stay with me, too, and prayed hard for that miracle to occur. But it wasn’t to be; his life on this plane of existence ended, but who he was and what he was all about lives on. That’s what Cordelia understood that her grieving son, Miles, did not get — maybe could not get. Simply put: the most important thing about her husband’s life, or mine, is this — he lived it his way.
If you’ve followed my blog to this point, or know anything about me at all, you know full well that I will do whatever I possibly can, ethically and morally, to keep Michael’s writing alive. I will finish it since I must, even though I wish with all my heart and soul and spirit that Michael were still with us in the totality of his intelligence, bright spirit and strong will. I’d rather he were alive to do this, because I loved watching him create, and I loved reading his stories.
Still. I am the only one left who understands what he was getting at, and I can write his style (with great effort, but I can do it). That’s why I will do whatever I can to complete his work, because in that way and only in that way do I feel like I’ve remembered Michael properly, as the man he always was — creative, alert, intelligent, witty, and beloved beyond words.
It’s important to remember a person as he lived, not as he died. That’s why the process of creation is so important to me. It was important to Michael, too, because writing something, creating something, meant we’d done something no one else on the planet was able to do in the same way. Creating is one way of exerting your own sense of individuality, of how you see the world, and it’s the best way to remember a creative person, in my opinion.
At any rate — while life is for the living, it’s also for remembering, positively and with great care, the honored dead. Maybe that’s why it was so hard for me to like Cryoburn, as it hits way too close to home for comfort.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 