Without Michael
Have you caught yourself thinking, "I'm glad so-and-so isn't around to see this..."?
My colleague Jamie Tinsley lost her husband last year. Now, raising two children while holding down a full-time job during a quarantine, she’s losing her mind. She might be the bravest person I know, and she was generous enough to write about what it’s like to still feel married to someone who is no longer here while trying to survive what we’re all dealing with.
By Jamie Tinsley
I recently got into a fight with my husband. Screaming and crying - I mean I really let him have it. Used every cuss word under the sun – even made a few up. It was a doozy. I am not proud of the things I said or the sentiments I spewed, but, in a crisis, I am a fighter.
I should have prefaced all of this with the fact that my husband is dead. He died just over a year ago tragically and unexpectedly of a pulmonary embolism. He was 48. His name was Michael. There’s a phrase I’ve said 100 times over since he died that I’m sure millions of others have used in their own variations in the last few months – “I did not properly brace for impact.” But really, how can you?
Our recent one-sided fight was the first time I had yelled at him since he died, but I still talk to my husband all the time. I ask him questions out loud – he was not a mind reader on earth, so I presume that fact remains. I ask him to send me signs. Help me feel that he is still here. Use Morse code with lightbulbs to get answers – two flickers for yes, one for no. Smartass always flickers three times. Is that a maybe? Maybe.
But when I yelled at him, I knew it was nothing more than fear talking. How am I going to do this? All of this? So much this! The big news that COVID-19 was deadly came around the same time my daughters and I were honoring his deathiversary (that’s what all the grief books tell you to call it). Spring Break was extended another week, offices were shutting down. Soon after came the news that homeschooling would begin. WTF! I AM NOT A TEACHER. I can’t do sixth-grade math let alone third-grade math and yet here I am asking Alexa to help me do both. By the way, shout out to Alexa! She’s been an amazing co-teacher through all of this. Except for when she says “mmmm, I don’t know that one.” Then I cuss her out. Good moms say bad words.
So here we are, week seven (hundred and fifty-two) of quarantine. I don’t mind staying home to save lives. But I work. And I homeschool. And I’m an extrovert. And I’m grieving. However, I recently read something one of my colleagues posted on Facebook that is summed up as simply as this: While we are all weathering the same storm, we are in different boats. I’m fortunate that my boat is filled with life vests represented by friends and family. I recognize others are weathering this storm in rafts. I’m empathetic to all the people doing this alone. I’m empathetic to all the people that didn’t get a proper goodbye. I’m empathetic to all the people who have lost their people.
Without Michael here, I’m reminded daily of how much he took care of his family. I wouldn’t have had to ask neighbors for toilet paper when this all started – insert the great toilet paper shortage of March 2020 here. I wouldn’t have had to deal with a roof leak and an air conditioning drip pan in the attic that was about to overflow. Instead of workmen in the house with masks on, he would have handled it. He always just handled it. I don’t wish he was here to have to see all of this. I just wish he was still here.
I have come up with another way to honor his memory, his take-charge spirit, his handle your business attitude. I’m going to put together the most amazing hurricane kit you ever did see. I’m going to run down the checklist while talking out loud to him. I’m going to get some sort of sign that I didn’t forget anything. Fingers crossed for toilet paper! I’m going to be graced somehow with forgiveness for yelling at him, although I know he didn’t mind. I’m going to handle it. Because in a crisis, I am a fighter.
RIP
I would like to pay respect to those we lose along the way. If there is someone you would like to be remembered in future newsletters, please post links to their obituaries in the comments section or email me. Thank you.
How we’re getting through this
Isolation proms.
Virtually modeling.
Worrying about small businesses.
Getting a few small wins every day.
Teleworking for the foreseeable future.
Using Google’s free home-schooling tools.
Watching Brad Pitt play Dr. Anthony Fauci.
Ordering cold-brew coffee with no delivery fee.
Starting a new job while running a boarding school for two kids.
What I’m reading
Dov Seidman: “Why the coronavirus crisis makes moral leadership more important than ever”
Bill Gates: “The first modern pandemic”
Wired: “An Oral History of the Day Everything Changed”
Jewish Telegraphic Agency: “Sheikh Wants to Buy the Alamo As a Present for His Son”
Got some reading suggestions? Post them in the comments section, and I might include them in the next newsletter. Have a book to promote? Let me know in the comments or email me.
What I’m watching
Extraction on Netflix is straight trash.
The Netflix documentary about Dave Chapelle getting the Mark Twain for comedy reminded me how long he’s been great, but I’d rather see a more critical look at a comedian who is considered brave by comedians, problematic by marginalized people, and inconsistent by me.
The Galaxy Quest documentary on Amazon Prime? *chef’s kiss*
Got suggestions? Post them in the comments section, and I might include them in the next newsletter.
What I’m listening to
Finally, someone did a funny song about the coronavirus.
Got suggestions? Post them in the comments section, and I might include them in the next newsletter.
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