Yesterday I got a letter addressed to Mike Young from the Motor Vehicle Commision dated 7/23/06.
The heading says:
“Medical Fitness - Initial Packet Notice”
And the cover letter reads as follows:
Information we have received requires us to determine whether you are medically and/or physically able to drive a motor vehicle safely.
Therefore, we need you and your doctor to complete the form(s) enclosed and return them to us within 45 days, using the envelope provided. Please include a daytime phone number where we may reach you if necessary.
We look forward to hearing from you.
So, nowhere on the form is there a box to check that says “deceased,” so I am so tempted to fill the whole thing out and send it back to them with an asterisk leading to the following:
- “In the event that death precludes the safe operation of a motor vehicle, Mr. Young is probably not fit to drive.”
On a positive note, I received notification today that Mike was approved for the extension of disability pay.
On a not-so-positive note, my monthly mortgage/tax payment increased this very month by $125/month. Something taxes Escrow blah blah blah… great. That's helpful.
Talked to my mom and dad this morning. My mom said something funny that has kept me chuckling. On their long drive home from Jersey to New Hampshire last weekend, mom turned to my dad and said, “Won't Michael be surprised to learn that a) there's a heaven and b) he's in it.”
Speaking of the deceased… Baxter saw him again. In the backyard. Baxter was drawing with sidewalk chalk on the back patio. I was watering flowers near the back fence. I turned to see happy Baxter looking at nothing, waving (hand open closed, open closed) and smiling. “Bye bye Daddy!” As Bax had been playing with sidewalk chalk he was so happily chatting away. I could imagine Mike squatting there with him playing quietly having a little conversation.
I talked to Susan about it last night. “Why isn't he visiting me?” I asked, slightly annoyed. Then I sort of answered my own question. Mike is so rational and logical, I think he knows that a visit from a dead smoosher is not exactly something I could handle right now. Or… maybe my own “rational” mind makes me unable to see him. I feel him all the time. Not like a ghost, but just a presence. More inside me that in the actual house- but here.
While driving back from World Café Live with Dondon on Thursday I found some words to describe what I'm feeling. I feel like everything is different. Everything looks different, smells different, and sounds different. The skyline is the big one. It looks so different to me. Everything is coated with a sort of melancholy.
I talked to Tomtom and Mary about it, too (and yes, I do infantalize many of my best male friends by affectionately repeating their names twice). Tom said that he was feeling a similar thing. He described it in terms of one of the key elements defining what our world being missing. That's it. Mike was like an anchor or a spoke or a… choose whatever metaphor you want…
Now I feel like I'm trying to navigate with no compass and the North Star is gone.
I can't believe he's gone. Gone gone.
I think I need lots of time with friends over the coming weeks. I might not reach out because I'm a little stymied and in my head, but if you call and say that you're coming over some night with dinner and trashy magazines (a la Susan) I guarantee I'll say yes to the little lifeboat you've just tossed my way.