Two Years

Today marks the two year anniversary since Mike’s family and I had to say goodbye to him in the hospital room at Deaconess Medical Center in Spokane. And I can feel it; it’s like September puts me in a fog of sadness without my even having to think about it. Something in my heart just knows to ache this time of year. I think it’s the change in weather, the colors, it all screams “MIKE!” He adored this time of year, and I just feel his presence more in the fall. This season gives me déjà vu of getting up early and saying goodbye to him as he headed into hunting camp for up to a week at a time. The piles of hunting gear all over the house, the numerous fall fleeces and jackets that Mike insisted all served different purposes, the many different pairs of boots, camouflage clothing, his gazillion coffee cups and the smell of coffee in the air…it’s all him, and I feel it so close to me. I ache. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, I almost miss him more now than I did a year ago, if that’s even possible.

Sometimes I wonder how my life would be different if Mike had never gotten cancer. Most likely, we would be living in Spokane in that little house we would have bought. Mike would have just graduated physician assistant school. Maybe we’d have a baby, maybe not. I most likely wouldn’t have been to Tanzania, Australia, St. Lucia, Thailand, or some of the other places I’ve traveled to in the last 2 years. I wouldn’t own my condo in Maui. Maybe I wouldn’t even have insulin resistance. I wouldn’t know a lot of the people I am now close to. I certainly wouldn’t be writing this blog. But I have no doubt Mike and I would be happy right now. In fact, I have no doubt we’d have been happy forever. There have been many blessings in my life since I’ve lost Mike, and I’m happy where I am now. But I’ll always wonder what life would have been like with Mike still here and I think I’ll always wish for that. Two years ago feels like it was just yesterday, but somehow, at the same time, it feels like an eternity ago.

I’ve asked myself a few times, why am I really doing this blog? What is the real objective? I think there are a number of reasons: It gives me an outlet, something to pour myself into almost like a new hobby; I hope it can be helpful to someone else who has experienced or is going through something similar; I want people to know the Mike I knew and for them to remember him; I want to write a book but just can’t seem to motivate myself to do it but somehow writing to readers on a blog holds me more accountable; and selfishly, I want to keep the memory of Mike alive as long as possible. When other people are thinking about him and remembering him, it makes me feel less alone.

Today, I mostly want to honor Mike and the person he was. I know it’s easy to have a lot of great things to say about someone after they’re gone. It seems easier to remember the good and focus on that. I’ve noticed my own tendency to do that, but with Mike I can honestly say his character was impeccable. I know there are other amazing people in the world, but Mike was truly one of a kind. He was respectful, always giving people the benefit of the doubt and defending people, he was patient, he was sensitive and strong at the same time, he was protective, he took care of me, he loved kids and was a great uncle, he was a true family man who adored spending time with his parents and sisters and their families, he was an animal lover through and through. Mike and I shared an obsession with dogs, mostly after we got Griffey in 2004, and realized they’re the greatest creature on earth. Mike was smart, he loved to learn, he was a perfectionist at everything he did and researched subjects tirelessly until he became the ultimate expert on them. He was always honest, he never exaggerated or embellished stories, he could always be trusted to do what he said he would do. He was witty and charming. Mike’s smile and laugh were contagious and lit up any room. I can still hear his hearty laugh that usually only came out when he was listening to his dad tell a story in true Carpenter comedic fashion. Mike was one of the silliest people I’ve ever known, and it was so easy to be myself with him. We would laugh till we were crying all the time. We balanced and completed each other perfectly. I introduced Mike to a passion for world traveling and Mike introduced me to a passion for hiking, camping, and the outdoors. He made me feel safe anywhere we went. Mike was a steward of the earth. He was raised to be respectful of the planet, to always clean up after himself, and, if necessary, clean up after others as well. Mike had a childlike innocence that made him an optimist and an idealist. He idolized a few sports figures in his life and they were always players who represented maturity, respect, humility, and good character. His all time favorite athlete was Ken Griffey Jr. – hence our dog’s name. Mike knew me so well, he knew exactly what to say or do to drive me nuts and push my buttons. On a number of occasions, he wouldn’t let me out of bed in the morning by holding me down in some ridiculous wrestling move. I would be so agitated, but I’d have to relax and pretend I was calm in order for him to let me up. Then just to egg him on, as soon as he let me up, I’d give him a good punch in the shoulder or something, and run away locking myself in the bathroom. I’d quietly fill up a cup of water, open the door quickly and throw it at him, then lock the door again. It could go on like that for half an hour with us chasing each other around the house throwing cups of water at each other. Before we knew it, we’d be soaked and the house would be a series of puddles. Mike was the funniest person I’ve ever known. Years ago when I was in my last year of pharmacy school, I started keeping a list on my computer of some of the silly things Mike used to say so that I’d never forget. This is the list titled “Mike’s Phrases” on my computer:

• Meanderthal – someone who meanders around (this was developed while we were both taking an anthropology class together and were studying Neanderthals).
  • Griffey’s nickname even evolved from “Griff” to “Grifferd” to “The Ferd” to “Ferdinand” (an ice cream shop in Pullman) to “Ferdinanderthal.”
• There was a kid in our class named Dusty Taylor. When there would be dust flying around in the car, Mike would comment that there were “dusty taylors” everywhere. Sorry, Dusty.
• When Mike and I were promising something to each other, we’d sometimes say, “I swear on us.” If we were trying to be sneaky, we’d jokingly say, “I swear on Gus.” We also had a classmate named Gus Girnus. So occasionally Mike would jokingly say, “I swear on Gus Girnus.” Sorry, Gus.
• When Mike would drive my car after I’d been driving it, the seat would be moved forward and he’d comment that “the midget stole the car again,” or “the car’s been midgetized.”
• When I would be cranky, Mike would ask, “Did you take the crankshaft out of the car again?”
• Or when I was grumpy, he would call me “Grumplestiltskin.”
• When something was dirty he would call it “Joe Dirte” (deertay).
• If Mike went to give me a back massage and I was the least bit sweaty, he’d say I was a “greasyback gorilla, of the greasyback species.”
• When calling something gross or nasty, he would  call it “Nastia Liukin,” like the gymnast in the Olympics.
• If Mike was driving too fast and I’d tell him to slow down, he’d say, “If you aint first, you’re last!” Like Ricky Bobby.
• Mike would jokingly make up ridiculous songs and raps and refer to himself in the song as “M Sizzle.”

This list doesn’t include a few other things that were just not quite “blog appropriate.” But it gives you an idea of how absurd his sense of humor was. He was completely random and silly, which is how I am, so it was perfect.

Mike was simple and good. There wasn’t a dark part about him. His smile radiated and his eyes sparkled. The cliche that “the world was a better place because of him” is true, if only for a few select people, me especially. The world really isn’t as wonderful without him. His pureness, innocence, and goodness were far superior to mine. Mike was a moral compass that I chose to calibrate myself to. He filled my world with a sense of purpose and appreciation for beauty. I wouldn’t trade my time with Mike and all the memories I have for anything in the world. Those were the best 8 years of my life and I hope I made his short life more fulfilling and complete as well.

I wrote quite a bit during the time of Mike’s illness on a fantastic website called www.caringbridge.org. For anyone going through a difficult time, I highly recommend this site for keeping people updated about your condition. The moral support is invaluable and the ability to keep in touch with those concerned is very helpful. If you feel the desire to dive into what I wrote those 5-6 months of Mike’s cancer, feel free to find all you could want and more at: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/michaelcarpenter. I also have decided to make it a tradition to watch the slide show video from Mike’s memorial each year on this day. It is available in a three part series on You Tube at: http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLB2D2952D8670521E

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