Talking to Michael

Michael,
When will I heal from your pain? Whenever my mind is idle, like when Im driving or sitting in my room I think about your life. I feel the deep deep despair you felt for so very long. Dad and I tried to be there for you in every way we could possibly think of. But we couldn't take away your dark dark moods, your loneliness. We couldn't bridge that gap to you, honey, no matter how hard we tried. You left your body. You left your pain behind for me to feel. Sometimes I'm in anguish over your life. This horrible demon that haunted you was so cruel and heartless. You stayed with us as long as you could stand it. But you had to go. I understand that. What I don't understand is why you were cursed with this illness. If I could only find a way to look at your life and be at peace, maybe I could move forward.
Im trying so hard to move forward, Mike. For you, for Katie, for Dad, for the Baby and for the family who loves me and wants me to feel ok.
I don't know what else to do. Please help me, Mike. You are the only one who can.
Love,
Mom

Today is Mike's birthday

Today is Mike's birthday. I knew it was coming. But I had forgotten until Mike's friends from the Limo company called. They are my friends too. Their names are Jon and Ellie. They told me they think about him all the time. Jon has a picture of Mike that he keeps in his driver's bag. He also has Mike's birthday on his calendar. I was so touched that they remembered. But oh My did it send me back to that awful time when he died. 
This is just one more thing to get through. It isn't getting easier.

Left Behind

When a person dies, they go away. But all their stuff stays. Mike's stuff is scattered throughout our house. I try to organize it and get rid of stuff. But I keep finding more stuff. And I must decide what to do with it. Sometimes I just don't have the energy to do anything but move it aside. But each object is a land mine. I can come upon something unexpectedly and it triggers me into a downward spiral. What are they? you ask. His sunglasses. I have pictures of him in full limo driver attire, black suit, white shirt and sunglasses. His tie. He looked quite handsome when he was all dressed up for work. His cell phone. It was very small, about half the size of a deck of cards. I can see him with his hand to his ear talking, knowing that tiny cell phone was there. He never seemed to loose it. His glasses. They were very fragile and almost invisible on his face. But they gave him an air of intelligence and calm. As he was dying he asked if we had found his glasses. He couldn't see very well without them or his contacts. I found them after we cleaned out his apartment. They were tangled in the blanket I had knitted for him years ago. The blanket was on his bed. The glasses were broken and useless. By then he didn't have need of glasses anyway.
Last night I was looking through a little box of miscellaneous things that I keep on my bedside stand. I found a watch he gave me for Christmas years ago. The battery was dead. But I looked at the time anyway. It said, 8:20. I looked over at the clock on the dresser. It said 8:20 exactly! I looked at the watch again for a while. And it was stuck at 8:20. Only once in 12 hours would I look at a stopped watch and see 8:20. But that is exactly the time I looked at it. Perhaps its a signal from Mike.
Well, if it is, Im not sure it is helping me. Cause I feel like crying.