The Mouse In The Stick
Me: Why is your shirt dirty?
Him: I don’t know…. There was baby powder on the mouse, maybe?
Him: The mouse in the stick
Me: Ummm, the mouse in the stick?
Him: Yeah. Under the stage.
Me: Uh, under the stage?
Me: So... you do this a lot. Do you do it on purpose or is it just habit?
Me: Throw out statements like, “There was baby powder on the mouse.” or “The mouse on the stick.” with seemingly no intention of explaining?
Him: (Sighs) There’s an actor at work who has a mouse that comes out of a stick and when they’re done with the scene he throws the mouse off stage and I pick it up.
Me: Oh, I see…
I miss him.
Originally published in 2011.
One of my co-hosts and a dear friend has a tradition every year at Thanksgiving called Hobo Holiday where she invites those who are without their family or prefer not to spend Thanksgiving with them. It's been happening for almost ten years and is a rousing success...every year. This was my first one, even though I've known her for 3 years. It was wonderful and with So. Much. Food.
Mike and Erma
Mike and Friends
Mike and Family
I was asked today: Do you think about where he is at right now?
I don't care. He is not with me.
Do you think you'll see him in the next life?
I don't care. And if I did, I would end my life right now to get to the next one.
Do you think he is with god?
I don't care and if I did, I would hate god with every fiber of my being. Thoughts of god are of no comfort to me.
Do you think he's trying to communicate with you?
I don't want nor need him to. He's gone. I can't touch him. I can't hold him. I can't kiss him. He's just... gone.
Do you think you'll ever love again!
I love now. Right now. And it hurts. I don't care about "again."
I'm not angry. I'm okay, because I'm practical. I'm a realist. I have lost the vestiges of every religion because right now they all seem to be nothing but a crutch to feel better about a tragedy. I don't need a crutch, nor want it. I don't care to feel better. I miss him. That's all. I will miss him for a long time to come.
The crying is down to only a few times a day. I am dealing. I have great friends and an awesome family. Mike has an awesome family. I feel bad I am unable to comfort others with their loss of Mike because I know he was loved by many. He touched a lot of lives in the very best of ways.
It's hard to be in the house alone but so far, it's rare. My friends and family have helped a lot and for that I am overwhelmed with love and appreciation.
On September 23rd, I celebrated my birthday with a good day at work and with a home cooked dinner, television, and a great night with my fiancé, Michael LeDuc. He had gotten me flowers, as he does every year. He made dinner and I taught him how to make gravy by adding flour to the sauce. We watched an episode of Dr. Who and then we made love and cuddled.
We talked about everything from plans for house improvements to calling his penis the Tardis, because it's bigger when it's on the inside. We talked about how we loved our relationship compared to others we knew. We talked about the reason why I bought fabric softener for some of my washing and the upcoming vote at his union and what it might mean for him work-wise.
Then we kissed, curled out fingers together, entwined our legs, and fell asleep like we do almost every night.
The next morning, early, I got ready for work and then curled up behind him in bed to kiss him goodbye. He held my hand and squeezed it. I kissed him repeatedly. We loved and we laughed and he told me to have a good day at work. I said I would and left.
I left work at 630, texted him to let him know I was on my way, waited a few minutes, then left work for home. I had to stop for gas and I stopped for coffee. When I pulled into the driveway I could see that the interior lights were off but he was home. A flash of worry did cross my brow, but this had happened before. It's rare, but it had.
I entered the house, put down my belongings and headed towards the bedroom clicking on the hall light. I screamed and ran towards a Michael that was face down on the bedroom floor. He was naked and not moving. I tried to flip him over but I couldn't so I called 911. The operator had me try flipping him over again to check for breathing. I maneuvered and finally succeeded. He was purple on the flip side. He had been dead a while. The 911 operator had me perform CPR and count out loud to her. The medics arrived almost immediately and ushered me outside. They came out of the house almost as quick as they had arrived.
I gathered my breath at the insistence of the medics and finally made some calls. Soon, the front yard was filled with family and friends. When the coroner gave us her report it was short. He seems to have been dead for about 8 hours. There seems to be no trauma so she was requesting a toxicology report and we should get results within 6-8 weeks.
I am not alone, per se, but I feel lonely. Michael was my friend, lover, companion, and confidante. We had been friends since we were about 15 years old. We spent nearly every weekend together for almost 10 years. We worked and played together. We didn't start dating until 4 years ago (2009) but it seemed like we had been partners since we had met. We knew everything about one another and longed to learn more. We never fought or argued. We discussed and conversed... and we loved.... each other, deeply.
Everyone has a story to tell; sometimes several, including me. Here are some stories from my life and from others.
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