Post-Susan


What comes after writing my wife’s eulogy? “Normal” is a thing of the past. My vision gets blurry when I sit down at my computer; I have trouble catching my breath at times. My mind flits from my missing partner to my unseen audience (all six of you).

Two weeks post-Susan and the focus of my wanderings and wonderings is the same as before—LIFE. It’s a mystery we can hardly apprehend (grasp) and never comprehend (get our arms around). Kindled by God at birth, it is never extinguished even though we lose the light and warmth of loved ones when their sparks fly into the obsidian sky.

As for me, I am—and will remain—a storyteller around the campfire, a minstrel in the company of pilgrims. My work isn’t done because I’m still here, so I’ll keep minting metaphors, spinning tales and thinking out loud.

Here’s what I think today:

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger—until something stronger kills you. In the mean time: cherish your family, enjoy old friends, make new ones, seek God and pray he finds you.

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4 thoughts on “Post-Susan

  1. Hey Mike my deepest condolences. I cant imagine what your going through. I lost my mom to cancer last year and my sister to a drug overdose the year before and my dad died a few years before that….theres a lot more than 6 of us out here Mike and you have no ideal how much you inspire us:-)

  2. You’re my hero dad… a girl could ask for no greater gift than a father like you… you loved my mother well for all the time you had together… you’re a great example to me and I love you more than words could say… (Jewels)

  3. Mike as a storyteller your in a good tradition and great company. I am honored to sit at your campfire, to hear and be challenged by the story that is being crafted through your hands. God knows where you are, He reminds me to intercede to Him on your behalf.

    James

  4. I began to follow your story several months ago while walking with my son through melanoma.. I was grasping for anything that would help me understand and know how to help him. he didn’t have a “life” anymore. He had doctors appointments and treatments, with little snippets of life sandwiched in on his good days. Thank you for sharing your ‘out loud’ thinking with me. Keep on being the story teller, the ministrel, the voice for those of us who have no words.

    Pat Kinkaid
    for Scott: April 1962 – November 2011

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