The other day I told my therapist I felt guilty because I wasn’t missing Michael like I used to. Smiling, she looked at me directly and said, “Grief is supposed to be that way, you know. You’ll miss him less and less as time goes by.” Somewhere in my head, I knew this was true, but I felt that by giving in to these feelings, I was betraying Mike’s memory. I still miss him every day, of…
Bette Davis is pensive in a publicity still for the Warner Bros. melodrama The Letter (1940).
I’ve probably seen Sleepless in Seattle ten times and never once realized it was a movie about grieving. When the Nora Ephron romcom first hit theaters back in 1993, I saw it primarily as a delightful film starring the incredibly likable Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. The two fall in love despite living on opposite sides of the country and never meeting in person until the final scene. Completely…
Marty mentioned marriage more than once over the last year, letting me know in no uncertain terms that he would like to tie our lives together permanently, but I always hesitated. I said I wasn’t ready or that it was too soon. What I meant was that I was scared of committing. I was afraid that if I married Marty, I’d somehow be disloyal to Michael. Somewhere in my head, I knew this wasn’t true,…
“Channeling” Those We’ve Loved and Lost
A couple of days ago, Marty and I were sitting on the couch waiting to watch Representative Kevin McCarthy lose yet another vote for Speaker of the House when one of his colleagues rose and gave an impassioned speech, using a sports analogy to bolster his point. Giving an exasperated snort, I turned to Marty and asked, “Why is it that straight men can’t make a point without using a sports…
We didn’t know it was our last Christmas, of course. Michael and I had decided to sell our Portland, Oregon home and relocate to the coastal village of Ajijic, Mexico, in the coming year. And because we knew it would probably be a couple of years before we’d make it back to the US, there was a bittersweetness to the hall-decking, present-wrapping days before our annual pilgrimage to the McManus…
The Right to Grieve
I’m always at loose ends several weeks before. I snap at Marty about nothing at all, and a low-grade sadness sandbags my existence. I can’t put my finger on the reason at first, and then I remember the anniversary of Michael’s death is coming up. I try to resist the tidal wave, but in the three years since he died, I’ve learned to just go with it and feel the pain. This is a time to reexperience…
The last time I bothered to send out a Christmas card was when I was single. I’d just moved to the Big City, and it felt like an incredibly grown-up thing to do. I hadn’t mailed one since. But Marty changed all that. The fact that I lovingly refer to him as The Postmaster and my first gift to him was a postal scale should give you an idea of his affection for the United States Postal Service.…
The Only Thing That Matters
Life hands us its lessons when we least expect them. Micheal and I had hit a rough patch, and I was lying face down on our bed, miserable because of the anger that separated us. Then I remembered an affirmation I’d typed in the notes app on my phone right before we’d decided to move to Mexico. I’d been having serious doubts about the whole idea, and to keep my courage up and fears at bay, I…
I’m glad Michael wasn’t here for the death of Queen Elizabeth II. A rabid Anglophile, he loved and admired Her Majesty, making sure we caught all the latest documentaries on the Royal Family. And like most of us on planet earth, he adored Princess Diana, casting Camilla Parker Bowles as the arch-villain of the gilded soap opera Diana’s life became. In the nearly three years since Michael died,…
In the it-could-only-happen-in-Mexico department, my husband’s cardiologist arranged for his cremation. Only minutes after Mike died, the ever-smiling Dr. Moya showed up at our front door with heartfelt condolences and assured me that he would take care of this end-of-life service. I was incredibly relieved to hand it off to him since I had no idea how to arrange a cremation in a country…
The Sound of Silence
I had no problem being alone, with only silence to keep me company before. Oh, I sometimes turned on the television or popped a CD in the player when Michael was out, but I was usually okay with only a random thought or two for company. Not so much after my husband died. I couldn’t stand the absence of noise even though I was living with other people, and this was true for several years after…
Appreciating Those We Love Now
I caught the Today Show this morning and heard one of the talking heads announce that there would be a tribute to singer Olivia Newton-John later in the hour. Since then, the internet has been populated by well-deserved accolades for the lovely Aussie singer who lost her struggle with breast cancer on Monday. All who knew her are full of praise for her beautiful voice and sweet, giving nature. I…
Michael died almost three years ago, but I still think about him every day. He invades my thoughts when I least expect him to—like when I’m studying my face in the bathroom mirror or putting a Russet in the oven. I miss the things we used to do together. Not so much the big ticket items like our trips to Europe, but little things like catching one of our favorite episodes of I Love Lucy for the…
Leading lady Lizabeth Scott rests on her laurels in a publicity still for the Hal Wallis technicolor noir Desert Fury (1947).
The first time I saw RKO’s The Enchanted Cottage (1945) was on one of those pewter-gray autumn afternoons so indigenous to the Northwest. It was probably a lazy Saturday in front of the fire—one in which Michael and I cuddled on the sofa and took in a black and white film. I knew nothing about Enchanted’s history at the time, but after I saw it again the other day, a little research uncovered…
Living In Fear of Loss
Grief has taught me a thing or two about living with loss. It takes many forms and appears in unexpected ways that sometimes feel the same as the death of a loved one. I’ve been experiencing this kind of grief since the supreme court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade. This may seem odd coming from a gay man, but I’ve been depressed since I heard. I not only feel hopelessly sad for women who’ve…
It all started when Michael and I decided to move to Mexico in the summer of 2019. After years of research, we knew that we had to downsize in order to live in a furnished rental, our primary housing option since we didn’t want to buy. Suddenly, it was my job to reduce twenty years, worth of stuff to seventy moving boxes, a couple of end tables, and a teak bed frame Mike insisted on taking even…
Barbara Stanwyck smolders in a publicity still from The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946).
Ginger Rogers is impossibly glamorous in this publicity still for the RKO mystery, Star of Midnight (1935).
