Michal: On Friendship

by Tim
(Centerville, MN)

I was Michal's friend. We played spin-dancing, kickball, snowball fights, puddle jumping, wagon riding, piggybacking, fort-creating and fort-destroying; we carried each other through life, our collective togetherness: his presence meant there were games to play, food to prepare, crying and laughter to be had, hope and anger and love to be spent, and all of it in an afternoon, or on the couch, or in the windowsill during the rain.

A friend asked me recently, "that heaviness on you; is that just, like, the new you?"

I said it was. I had a friend, a little 3-foot-something friend that absolutely adored me. He would run to the car when I came home from work and sit in my lap and push every button and every lever in my car, he would look up at me and I would poke his sides and we would hold each other and laugh and hug and tickle. And now My friend asks me if this "heaviness on me is, like, the new me"

Of course it is me. I had a son, his name was Michal Caleb, he lived for 4 years, 3 months, and 3 days. He died in my absence. I arrived to find his fingers cooling, his face spiderwebbed in purple veins, his mouth agape, dead lips sucking in vain on a breathing tube now unplugged. I remember him always, at night, when I come from work, when I see the clouds, the moon, the sun, when I set my beer down on the side of the bathtub, when I rise to shower, when I sit to type: there is a haunting that sits in every moment of life thus lived beyond him: every action betrays his existence, moves the tyrannical present forward with all its graceless envelopment of his memory, his laughter, his lightening mcqueen shoes, his beautiful, suffocating joy. I don't want the present. I don't want tomorrow. I just want a way back. I want to go back to August 13th, 2010 and pick him up and hold him and run my hands through his hair, sing him a song, feel his heartbeat, blow into his neck, spin him in circles, watch him jump from the fourth step, watch him careen around the kitchen, watch him chase the cat, watch him endure.

He called me that day, August 13th, while enroute to the hospital. He said, "hi daddy." He said, "can I say goodbye now?"

I'm not sure tomorrows count anymore. I love you so much Michal. We were the best of friends.


Comments for Michal: On Friendship

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Feb 17, 2011
beautiful angel boy
by: kay

Words alone cannot express the ache in our hearts,although I find when I write of my raw emotions ,feelings and pain it helps get through each day....I feel the pain in your words...I too have my son on my mind most of the day and night time I am overwhelmed with his memories...when I am with others he is still in my mind, behind the mask of normalness. I feel closer to my darling son when surrounded by nature,moon,stars,sun,river,trees. I love him so much...as do you love your little friend and precious son Michal. They are for all of eternity to dwell deep in our hearts. Love to you and your family .xxx

Feb 12, 2011
from a mom
by: Anonymous

....who lost a beautiful son....
You were blessed to have such a beautiful son. I'm so sorry that you lost him. I'm sorry about all of us who have suffered this loss. It just doesn't make much sense.

Feb 12, 2011
no words can heal your sorrow
by: Lisa

Tim, thank you for being available for me as I miss Mike - I am here for you as well. No words, no anything can bring your boy back, like me and all the others here, we have the what was.
My heart goes out to you for all the what would have beens you will encounter. Please know you and Michal are in my thoughts as we both make the painful journey down this path of grief.


Feb 09, 2011
I had a friend too
by: Shirley

and his name was Dimitri and he died August 9th, 2010 as I held him in my arms and sang a song to him that I sang when he was a baby. He was 23 years and 27 days old and leukemia stole him from me.

I was looking forward to watching him grow into the man I had raised him to be. Watching him graduate from college. Watching him marry his love Katrina and give me some grandbabies.
What sort of God gives someone a child, lets them go through all the trauma and joy of raising them to the point of adulthood and then takes that child away. What was the point.

It is six months TODAY that I held my dying son in my arms and I know how you feel. The heaviness, the sadness, the hole you will never fill in your heart.

My soul bleeds for you as it bleeds for me and for every parent who has to endure the loss of a child. I'm sorry that any of us have to go through this.

Feb 09, 2011
no way back
by: Lisa

I too would like a way to the past - away from the heaviness that defines the new "us". My heart goes out to you.

I lost a husband but at least we had years of what was, you lost a child and thus lost years of what will be.

We can only hope that for you, me and everyone else visiting this site - time does heal.

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