And If You Did Know?

In Memory of Sharon Michele McAvoy Nichols .:. December 24, 1949 – October 10, 2005

April 27, 2006

Special Days Are Hard

Filed under: goodbye — mark @ 9:11 pm

Dear Michele,

I am discovering that while all days are hard, those that had special significance to us are especially tough. It’s not really surprising, but they are difficult just the same. Big holidays are bad, but my approaching birthday is even harder. You always made me feel so special and important on “my” day each year. Already I am missing the anticipation of whatever special thing you would have or do for me. I am determined, however, to do something for me in honor of my day. To let it quietly slip past would be too much like the introverted and isolated Mark you met all those years ago. I am afraid at times of reverting to that Mark, and so I take pains to not regress.

My thinking is to invite K & K to join me at Peachtree for dinner. I haven’t been since the last time we went (remember the live jazz?) and I want to go. Going without you is just to hard, but I like both Ks, and I know you did too. It seems fitting somehow. I am planning on going to the arboretum this weekend. I imagine the flowers will all be in bloom, and I think I’ll feel connected to you as a result.

I know you can’t give me a present this year, so I am giving myself one for you. I am resolving to live and have a life rather than to whither away and pine alone. I know you don’t want me to just mope and become reclusive, and I suspect you’d find a way to come back and kick my butt if I did. So your present to me this year is dinner out at Peachtreee, and an afternoon in the flowers and flowering trees of the arboretum.

I lov eyou Tinkerbell

April 11, 2006

Half A Year

Filed under: goodbye — mark @ 6:45 am

Dear Sweetie,

This past Monday marked the twenty-sixth week since you died. Half a year. An eternity. It feels like forever since you went away and yet I can still think you are going to be there when I get home, or will call me just to tell me that you love me. The painful images of your death are still present in my memory, but I am more and more able to see other images of you. Knowing about state trait memory I work hard and recreating some contexts that we shared just so I can imagine the touch of your hand in mine, or the smell of your hair. Missing you is so very hard.

Over the weekend I went to Chicago for Jim’s wedding. You would have thoroughly liked the ceremony as well as the church. It was a place of true acceptance, understanding, and love. I could feel your approval as the event unfolded and it was hard not to breakdown and cry since I wanted so badly to share the experience with you. Afterwards I did say to Jim that you would have approved and he replied that he knew that. I know you and he only met a couple of times but you are both people one gets to know immediately.

Your love and guidance has helped me in the past few weeks as I prepare myself for my mother’s death. He treatments appear not to be slowing the spread of the cancer. No one knows how long she has remaining, so, with your wise words echoing in my ears, I have talked to mom and said what I needed to say. On this last visit we held each other and cried a bit together.

The next big milestone for me will be my birthday in May. I haven’t quite decided what to do or not do yet. The timing is such that I may be going to Decatur to see mom again, and I suppose letting her share one last birthday with her son would be a good thing. However I chose to spend that weekend it will be difficult as I won’t have you there making me feel special the way you always did.

I lov eyou Tinkerbell
I miss you everyday
I am sorry for all the things we didn’t have time for
I am proud of loving you completely and fully in the moments we had
I will always be in lov with eyou