Katie said something to me yesterday that really hit home. She said I am trying to continue the dysfunctional relationship I had with Mike for 42 years
Even though it is over. Of course it is hard to stop habits of thinking that have been in place for so long. Steve taught me that you cant really make these imbedded thought patterns go away without a prefrontal lobotomy. But you can create a stronger picture to replace the old one. What stronger picture do I need than the thought of Katie giving birth to my grandson? So I'm going to work that picture up in my mind. I'm here in San Francisco for Katie's shower. It will be easy to stay in this moment as I sleep in the nursery surround by baby things. This is the picture I will take home with me. What a gift!
Michael, My Son This blog is to chronicle my son, Michael's battle with alcoholism and bipolar disorder Michael passed away on June 4, 2011 of acute alcoholic liver failure at the age of 42
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
Thinking about Mike
It was a privilege to be Mikes mother. To be witness to his life, his struggles his triumphs, his tragedy his pain. Through it all we loved each other and told each other so again and again. I like to think that even when he felt most alone, he could think about my love for him and be comforted. When he died and I wept over his body, I think he stayed to watch and to reassure himself that I never for one minute stopped loving him.
And now he watches over me with love and tenderness.
Mike was the bravest man I know. His life was filled with pain, both physical and psychological. He soldiered on longing to leave this life. But not wanting to cause me the pain of him dying. In between the pain and sadness and loneliness he managed to piece together a life that was a gift to those who knew him. His friends at work truly loved him. They loved his wry sense of humor, his musical talents and his genuine iinterest in their lives. When he died they came to tell me that. Even near the end when he could barely drag himself to work in his dying body, his friends didn't see it. They saw the public Michael that hid his pain so well that others enjoyed his company. When he left work in the middle of the night after hangin)g out with his friends, he stopped at the store for a bottle of vodka to keep his demons at bay. But his friends say they never saw him drink.. He once said that the worst thing in the world was to come home to a empty room every night.
He loved the mountains and the deserts. Some of his happiest times were when he was out by himself in the wilderness. We gave him that by taking him there when he was growing up
I'm proud of my son. It took a lot of courage to do what he did. He suffered terribly as his body was dying. But somehow he thought that this kind of suicide would be easier for me to bear. In a way it was. He gave us time to adjust to the fact that he was dying.. We got to spend his last days with him saying our good byes. There was a day when his mind was still relatively clear when i sat on his bed for the longest time and we just looked into each others eyes no words were necessary My heart aches for him. But I don't want him to come back. He is where he belongs. I love him so much that I will let him go.
I have decided to allow and acknowledge my inner conflict over Mike's life and his death. I was trying toss those feelings away thinking it wasn't healthy for me to think about him and feel the pain of his loss. But now I think is is unhealthy to try to push all my feelings away. So I say, in this moment I am feeling the pain of loosing my son and the pain of the life he lived. And that's ok.
And I know that In this life and the next, I will never walk alone.
And now he watches over me with love and tenderness.
Mike was the bravest man I know. His life was filled with pain, both physical and psychological. He soldiered on longing to leave this life. But not wanting to cause me the pain of him dying. In between the pain and sadness and loneliness he managed to piece together a life that was a gift to those who knew him. His friends at work truly loved him. They loved his wry sense of humor, his musical talents and his genuine iinterest in their lives. When he died they came to tell me that. Even near the end when he could barely drag himself to work in his dying body, his friends didn't see it. They saw the public Michael that hid his pain so well that others enjoyed his company. When he left work in the middle of the night after hangin)g out with his friends, he stopped at the store for a bottle of vodka to keep his demons at bay. But his friends say they never saw him drink.. He once said that the worst thing in the world was to come home to a empty room every night.
He loved the mountains and the deserts. Some of his happiest times were when he was out by himself in the wilderness. We gave him that by taking him there when he was growing up
I'm proud of my son. It took a lot of courage to do what he did. He suffered terribly as his body was dying. But somehow he thought that this kind of suicide would be easier for me to bear. In a way it was. He gave us time to adjust to the fact that he was dying.. We got to spend his last days with him saying our good byes. There was a day when his mind was still relatively clear when i sat on his bed for the longest time and we just looked into each others eyes no words were necessary My heart aches for him. But I don't want him to come back. He is where he belongs. I love him so much that I will let him go.
I have decided to allow and acknowledge my inner conflict over Mike's life and his death. I was trying toss those feelings away thinking it wasn't healthy for me to think about him and feel the pain of his loss. But now I think is is unhealthy to try to push all my feelings away. So I say, in this moment I am feeling the pain of loosing my son and the pain of the life he lived. And that's ok.
And I know that In this life and the next, I will never walk alone.
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