"Oh, that's where that is."

Tuck stays a little closer to me these days.  He’s in the same room as I am most of the time now.  I sure would like to know what has gone and is going through his mind these last few weeks (yes, I realize he is a dog).  It would make you cry if it didn’t make you laugh or at least smile a little, if you saw his “lack of trust” in me, as it would seem, as I tried to get him to leave the house with me for a walk or car ride those first few days after Tooga was gone.  My interpretation was he saw me leave with Miki and she didn’t return.  He saw me leave with Tooga and he didn’t come back.  Do you see where I’m going with this train of dog thought?  I don’t blame him.  My sister Betty, who was staying with me over Christmas, got him out for a number of walks before she headed back to California and that appears to have gotten the standoffishness towards me and leaving the house on a better footing.  I think I even started to question leaving the house with myself for a while.

The hours and days following Miki’s Party (that’s what she would have called it) were filled with family, visiting, eating, visiting, and eating some more.  Looking back, I could not have asked for a better service to help me/us begin to recover in the wake of her absence.  Her clothes are finding homes in new closets and dressers, as family and friends have found a little something to remember her by.  The girl had some clothes!

Did I mention there were beverages to go with the eating and visiting?

Tuck and I are getting acquainted with our house again.  For Tuck, he is enjoying the good life right now.  He’s getting use to the fact he doesn’t have to be on high alert, while awake, to fend off a Tooga surprise attack and he goes with me in the car more frequently when I run errands.  He also is getting use to a different amount of caloric intake from before, since the “Queen of Treats” is not here to hand them out, every time he looked at her with those big brown eyes.  I am sure he is wondering too, why I am the only one taller than he is, that is around most of the time.  Of course he must be missing the lovin’ that only his momma could dish out.

Me on the other hand, doesn’t have to guess the source of any horrid dog gas anymore.  Even worse, I can’t blame Miki.  But what is taking time is going through everything to get some perspective on what is under this roof.  "Oh, that's where that is."  The cumulative knowledge of our lives contained in this house has been drastically reduced.  Where things are or were can no longer be blamed on the other.  It’s all me now, so I better get a handle on it.  Files, boxes of decorations, drawers, and corners of closets, in some respects it’s like a different house.  As a new reality sets in, I can see things changing a little at a time.  Her office is evolving into something that is not her office anymore.  Since I don’t see myself taking up sewing (keep it to yourself), there will be more space available for other things where items like spools of thread and knitting tools (couldn't come up with a better word) use to be.  Going through her files on her computer is almost as time consuming and interesting in some ways.  There are even a few minor decorating touches that I didn’t have strong feelings about at the time, but now may change over time.  But I am in no rush and I treasure the memories that accompany every new item I discover or ponder over keeping or not. 

Right now, the pictures are what I crave to keep my memories fresh.  Many of you have heard me say my memory is not a strong suit for me and Miki use to tease me that she could make up our past to fit whatever she wanted it to be, since I didn’t recall the past real well.  I am so thankful for the photo albums she kept over the years.  I guess I can be like Miki and remember whatever I want to remember!  It’s not like I won’t remember the last 32 years, but she was in charge of refreshing my memory of the details.  And the woman forgot nothing…if you know what I mean!

I still can’t get over the fact of how quiet it is…especially with Tooga not barking at every little noise he hears outside.  He’s not racing to the back door so he can get outside to see who is encroaching upon his territory.  I can see finally refinishing the upstairs hardwood floors instead of waiting until both dogs were gone.  I wouldn’t mind some Miki noises though.

I’ve noticed people using words like reinventing, the new normal, and my new reality.  I’m still the same me that was born 54 years ago and continues to evolve.  And even though my evolution took a huge leap this last half a year, kind of like a growth spurt, I am beginning to see how the future will be something to look forward to, just as Miki was looking forward to whatever happens after this life is played out.  Right now that future encompasses a few days to a week at a time though.  Except for a few things, I don’t have the clarity I use to have.  I am hoping it will be like waking up in the morning…it takes me a while to get my motor running, but once I do, it’s all good.

My Zen from Home:  In a way, the weather conditions on Dec. 21 may have been somewhat positive.  There may not have been enough room for everyone that would have come, if the weather had been more inviting.  As it was, the turn out was outstanding, surprising, heartfelt, and memorable.  This will be my final official thank you for all the support from the service dating back to those of you who read the first blog entry, July 1, 2013…”Embarking on a New Journey Without Leaving Town.”  As word got around, it sparked countless emails and cards.  And then there were the gift cards, the food that showed up (if you are missing any containers, come visit), the drop by visits, the encouragement that took endless forms…it was truly a journey supported by Miki’s JOY Team.  Thank You from the bottom of both our hearts.

If it is not too cold, the Joy Hut is still available for visits.

200+ Hugs...That's A Good Day!

At the risk of sounding like a 12 year old girl…O.M.G.!

I’m not sure this can be said as a blanket statement, but I don’t think you can utter, write, or think the words, “I have cancer,” and not think about your own mortality at the same time.  Miki was never shy about her thoughts about death, what comes next, or however you view when your time here on this Earth is complete.  Over the last few months, Miki and I had discussed this a number of times, enough where she made me feel comfortable, knowing she felt comfortable, with what we both were hoping she would avoid, an earlier than expected departure.  We both thought I would be the one to head out first.  When it became apparent that reality and our hopes were not in sync, the inevitable had to be laid on the table.  She had enough foresight or intuition to have put some serious thought into the end of one chapter and the beginning of the next.

Had it been up to her, she did not need a memorial service, but she knew those that she left behind would.  A gathering of some sort, not to “bring closure,” but to allow those who were touched in some way by her presence, during her 56 years, to come together and acknowledge not the fact that she was a great teacher, family member, friend, or partner, but that we will be okay in her absence.  She knew by gathering and sharing Miki stories, she would help us see the best in ourselves.  By celebrating her life, we might try harder at our own.

Miki was heavy into gratitude and it was only fitting that it would be used as a theme for her gathering.  She wanted diversity in blessings to represent the oneness we all share no matter our beliefs.  And she wanted an uplifting atmosphere to facilitate moving forward and avoid being bogged down in sadness.  She was grateful for the time she was here, the life she lead, and the connections she made.  She was grateful for it all!

Miki knew she wanted to have any donations in her name go to Best Friends Animal Society, having been there to see first hand the great work they do.  I added Kansas City Hospice to it, having seen first hand the great work they do (Thank you for your generosity today!).  She thought through giving her possessions away and made me promise things about the dogs.  She lived well and prepared to leave well.

As the service she'd been planning in her solitude began to come together, first with her sister suggesting their Uncle Dave officiating it, my brother taking on the audio/visual portion, a brother in law organizing hospitality, and family and friends filling in the blanks, I was free to keep thinking Miki thoughts.  That was much appreciated!

The pieces kept falling into place through today, until shortly before 1:00 pm, Saturday, December 21, 2013, the winter solstice, when people began arriving at my alma mater to celebrate their relative, friend, teacher, mentor, and my partner.

I wasn’t sure what my role would be, as Miki’s celebrators and Joy Team members began arriving…she didn’t have that part planned out for me, or at least she didn’t bother to tell me.  I found myself by the entrance as people filed in and I just started collecting and giving hugs by the dozens.  I’ve been learning to be a hugger over the last number of months and I believe I graduated today.  If there isn’t a “Hugging To The Oldies” workout, don’t be surprised to see one soon, because I am sure I will feel the side effects of all that lovin’ in the days that follow.  The winter weather advisory was being held at bay and those that attempted to come from out of town were successful in their attempts…some pretty courageous road trippers, I must say.

The impressive number of those in attendance today, the ones that may have been reluctant to be there due to the dicey weather, or ones that wanted to and could not, paid tribute to a woman who literally could not believe the support that swelled on her behalf over these last few months.  Without a word being uttered, it spoke volumes about Miki.

Seeing each person in attendance today was a real treat.  Seeing the service being played out before me, previously only an outline on a sheet of paper, was almost an out of body experience.  Seeing Miki magically appear in the Grateful video for the first time, I’m sure caused palpitations, since I’d watched it numerous times before the magic was added.  But my highlight was easily seeing my nieces rise to a difficult occasion, just because I asked them to.  Each contributing to fulfill the vision their Aunt Miki saw, as she planned a celebration of her own life well lived.  She had to have been standing by each of them as much as I was rooting for them, as they delivered words meant to help us grasp our loss. 

Miki honored me with the greatest years I’ve known and I had the honor for the last 6 months to reciprocate in a way that I hope she understood my gratitude to her in return.  Just as she embraced moving on, it’s my turn to rise to that challenge as well.  I’ve had such good words of support in recent weeks, but it will be my actions that will move me forward now.  Miki set the intention to personally respond to each card and email she received and she actually started the process.  When she realized she was unable to see it through, she asked that I continue for her.  Knowing myself, I knew I did not have that in me as she did.  But know that you made a difference in her, just as many of you have shared with me, that she made a difference in you.  As she carries us in her heart, we will carry her in ours.

As I turned at the podium today to introduce the final blessing, the Grateful video, I had not appreciated the turnout of supporters for Miki’s Day.  But when I completed my turn and looked out over a sea of familiar faces, my inner 12-year-old girl thought only one thing…”O.M.G.!”  Thank You.

My Zen from Home:  Being open is quickly becoming my new modus operandi.  I will be open to feeling Miki’s presence, open to moving forward, and open to the idea of being open.  Miki wasn’t perfect at it (sorry Mik), but she was pretty good and getting better all the time. Does not apply to certain vegetables or ruts I may be in!

Oh Tooga

The last two dogs Miki and I had were Bear and Jessie.  A husky and a lab mix pound puppy.  They lived with us for around 15 years and their “dash” included escaping from the yard, trips to the vet to get stitched back together, and more lovin’ that thought possible.  When Jessie left us and Bear followed a year later, we thought dogs would be out of the picture for at least a few years.  Shortly after their absence from our family unit, I was on a motorcycle trip that landed me in Estes Park, Colorado.  I was taking the afternoon off to relax my gluteus maximi and found myself in a park watching two dogs play like there was no tomorrow.  Reckless abandon falls short of describing the fun they seemed to be having.  There were flying frisbees, endless tail grabbings (bitings), and short timeouts that would end with an ambush to start it all over again.  This was actually foreshadowing for Tuck and Tooga.

I returned home and in the stories I shared with Miki from my trip, the dogs I met were right up there with the mountains I passed over, the weather that was endured, and the winds that had me leaning into them at angles I was afraid to measure.  The wait for getting two more dogs was about over. 

We were out one day shopping and there was a puppy adoption set up in front of a pet store, next to the store we were heading toward.  My sister lead us over to see the dogs that were looking for their next home.  While the showoffs were getting all the attention, there was a crate in the back that had two puppies, one reddish in color and the other more blonde, that were just sitting there, and that is when I learned that female dogs can be loose with there romantic partners.  Other than their tails, which were identical, down to the white tips.  One looked to be lab and Brittany and the other lab and maybe greyhound, but definitely not “brother” looking material.  I was attracted to the blonde and Miki to the red one.  They won us over and they went home with us about 12 years ago last June.

During this period of time, Miki and I were learning to whitewater canoe in North Carolina.  Two of the rivers we paddled were the Chattooga and the Tuckasegee.  Out of wherever names come from, the dogs were knighted with their names, Tooga (the red one) and Tuck (the blonde one).  Tooga was the more aggressive, alpha acting one, while Tuck was the “Walmart Greeter.”  Tooga was a very anxious dog and Tuck was just happy to be there.  They played well together most of the time, although Tuck bears some scars on his little face from Tooga’s aggressive moments that seemed to come from nowhere, to the untrained eye…a dog whisperer I’m not.  They were hysterical to watch play, as they chased one another and did body slams in the air, as if making a game-winning touchdown.  Tooga developed arthritis in one of his hips before his elder years began, but it never slowed him down.  Every morning, they would leap off the deck and sprint to the back fence to see who was in their park.  Friday morning, the same actions transpired that have been going on for over a decade.  The difference was, after I closed the back door and turned away, I heard a gut-wrenching cry of pain, that only a dog can make.  The rest I described in the previous posting.

9:00 Saturday morning I was at the vets office to see how Tooga had done overnight.  Physically he had not changed and the doctor showed me the x-ray depicting a slipped disc pushing up into the spinal cord, rendering everything towards the tail limp.  As the doctor described possible treatments and outcomes, the only thing I could think of was if this happened once, it will happen again.  Tooga was balls to the wall in everything he did.  Everything he did, he did with a sense of intensity.  Knowing that dog, there was only one action I thought would help his situation and that was to put him down.  And my hope was that Miki would be there to catch him on the other side.  I held his head between my hands and put my forehead to his, as the doctor administered a lethal does of anesthesia.  It was quick and painless and having been through it 6 times before with our other cats and dogs, it never gets easier.  The only difference this time was that Miki was not there beside me.  I was hoping she was looking over me and preparing to receive Tooga.  

Run hard big dog, run hard!

My Zen from Home:  Tuck looks at me funny these days and doesn’t seem to want to leave the house with me.  Every time I do, he sees whoever is with me doesn’t come back!  I would love to know what he’s really thinking or feeling, cause he has been a little closer by than normal.  He knows what’s up and seems to be helping me through my turmoil and in turn I will do the same for him.  We’ll both get through this…all of this.

A reminder:

A celebration of Miki’s life will be held at 1:00 p.m.

December 21, 2013

Blue Springs High School Commons

2000 NW Ashton Dr, Blue Springs, MO 64015.

Miki asked that in lieu of flowers, donations in her name be made to:

Best Friends Animal Society

5001 Angel Canyon Road

Kanab, Utah 84741

http://bestfriends.org/

and/or

Kansas City Hospice

9221 Ward Parkway, Suite 100

Kansas City, MO 64114

http://www.kansascityhospice.org/

Envelopes will be made available at the service for those wishing to contribute at that time.

Winter Solstice

In the past, December 21 has marked hurricanes, pilgrims landing at Plymouth Rock, the first basketball game, the discovery of radium, and YouTube’s first video with a billion views, to name very few.  This December 21 however, will mark the Winter Solstice and a celebration of the life of Miki Heyne.  She would love the idea of being remembered on the solstice.

A quick refresher…the Winter Solstice is the day of the year when the Earth’s axis is such that the northern hemisphere has its longest night and the Earth is tilted the maximum distance away from the sun.  The solstice is and has been celebrated around the world in many cultures for a reeeeaaally long time.

A friend of Miki’s wrote me today and looked at it this way…”In some ways this time holds feelings of bleakness and emptiness, much like the gap that Miki has left. And yet, this day heralds hope. Slowly, steadily, in the days, weeks, and months following the solstice the days become lighter. We may not feel it or sense it for a long time, but behind this springtime will eventually emerge.  Let us hold on to this knowledge as we make our way through these times.”  Thank you Isabel, for your interpretation on the timing of Miki’s Celebration, I like it a lot.

The Rule Of Three is a writing principle that suggests that things that come in threes are inherently funnier, more satisfying, or more effective than other numbers of things.  Maybe in writing, but in general, I beg to differ.  The converse of that rule happened to me.  You hear bad things happen in threes…see what you think…

#1.  I need to get my hair trimmed up, so I headed to a barbershop in town that was recommended by a couple of friends.  I haven’t paid for a haircut since I’ve known Miki and before that, my oldest sister would cut it.  My last memory of leaving my house to get a hair cut was ninth grade, for basketball tryouts.  I settled into the barber’s chair…facing away from the mirror…and expectations were discussed.  I told him I needed it a little shorter than it was.  He suggested not a “military” cut, but maybe a medium cut.  Sounds good, right?  He doesn’t waste any time and before the plastic sheet protector that protects me from my own hair, billows down around me, a razor with the “medium” attachment is doing laps around my scalp and hair is raining down around me.  The top of my head was left to scissors, a comb, and his lightning dexterity.  He made short work on top and then I felt something lathery on my sideburns and back of my neck…yep, a straight razor cut through the foam and started to define the borders of where hair is still growing.  I got the final brush off.  I did miss the brush off for all those years, I usually just had to hope it was a windy day and stand outside or jump in the shower, so as to not itch the rest of the day.  But my first professional cut in this century was in the books.  He spun me around to see his work in the mirror and with anticipation I saw me with not what I envisioned as a “medium” cut.  I would describe it as the no mans land between a “military” cut and a so-called “medium” cut.  It was very well done and I don’t hate it.  It’s just that I must have had wildly long hair to justify this as medium!

#2.  Seeing how it was in the 60’s today and it is December, you could hear motorcycles out taking advantage of this warm air that seems to be misplaced.  I felt the calling and I joined them, since the bottom of the thermometer will be challenged soon.  My chaps and a few layers on top did the trick to keep me insulated, because on a good day, 60 is my low temperature limit I choose to not ride below.  Wind chills are a powerful intimidator.  I had been riding for about 20 minutes on side roads and decided to hit the highway to Oak Grove and catch a few more home.  As I exit off the highway, my left foot feels for the shift lever, while my left hand works the clutch.  My left foot comes back empty…the shifter has an odd, loose feel to it.  Besides my vocabulary exploding in my head, I keep it together long enough to get my bike and me to a safe location to see what the problem was.  Upon closer inspection, a nut had come off of the shifter that holds it to the linkage that changes the gear in the motor.  Nothing was broken or lying on the side of the road…I can deal with this.  I had to do something to hold the linkage together, so I could get back to the dealership and let them know that the “new” (used) bike I just purchased 5 days ago, was falling apart underneath me, at 70 mph.  Nothing gets a smile faster than a cool statement like that, surrounded by guys with arms the size of my thighs, covered in tats…and I lived to tell about it.  I MacGyvered it back together with a drawstring from my sunglasses bag.  It held and it drew some studly attention to this guy back at the dealership.  At least that is the way I am going to interpret the laughs and looks, while it was being fixed.

3.  Today actually started like any other.  After the dogs eat, they charge out to the backyard at breakneck speed to see whom they can puff out their chests to.  The sprint to the back fence was cut short by the yelps of a dog that sounded like it had been hit by a car.  I turned to see Tooga sitting on the ground, making pain noises like I had never heard him do before.  I headed out to calm him and saw that his back legs were not working.  I scooped him up and carried him in, while trying to remember when the vet opened.  Thank goodness they had already been open 30 minutes, so I placed Tooga in the back of the car and off we went.  They would do x-rays and call me later in the morning.  But on the way home, I entertained all the possible outcomes, with the worst being both rear legs paralyzed.  If that were the case, I would feel the need to put him down.  The vet called later and was talking possible pinched nerve, slipped disc, or who knows what.  I asked him if movement didn’t come back to his hindquarters, would putting Tooga down be an over reaction?  He distracted me back to “lets see what happens first.”  I’ll go in tomorrow at 9 to see how Tooga did over night and what if anything has improved.  Being around those that have had pinched nerves, has not bode well for them lately.

Bad hair, bad ride, bad disc?  If the last 6 months has taught me anything, its patience.  My hair will grow back…most of it!  I kept the rubber side down on my motorcycle.  Anything other than that on a motorcycle other than the opposite is doable.  But Tooga?

My Zen from Home:  Two weeks and counting.  After this posting, I won’t be that guy that brings attention to and wallows in the days, weeks, or other periods of time since the biggest event in his life transpired.  Oh I’ll wallow in it and I’ll count whatever I want to since Miki passed, but it will be private, personal, and as often as needed.  And when I stop doing that, I anticipate whatever happens after this life, will include us both again.  I can dream, can’t I?

Finding the Good

I’ve been putting off the blog in hopes of having something positive, uplifting, or anything other than self-pity related verbiage to splatter across the page.  But it ain’t happenin’.  

I take that back…let me try to list some things that have been good in some way:

I've not resorted to trying out left over medications she's left me with.

I’ve kept the house relatively clean; thanks to my family that helped restore order to it.

I've not tried selling left over meds on the street for a Colorado condo down payment...yet.

I’ve got the downstairs cleaned up from being the staging area for the tree house build.

I’ve been eating pretty well, thanks to little food angels that appear.

I’ve traded in our motorcycles on a newer one that will last for a good while.

I’ve just about wrapped up the paperwork that goes with Miki’s absence.

I’ve been sleeping relatively well.

I’ve gone through Miki’s office and prepared it to become a bedroom again.

I’ve replaced grout around some of the kitchen tiles that were replaced a while back.

I’ve attached the “Miki’s Joy Hut” sign, by my brutha from anutha mutha, Chuck, from NYC.

I’ve bought ingredients to start cooking stuff I used to cook, before I met Miki.

I’ve made some grown up decisions on my own.

I keep thinking things will get better and according to this list, they must be.

"Miki's Joy Hut" finds a home.

I am not sure if this fits in the list, but I didn’t cry yesterday.  First day, in I’m not sure how many days.  The frequency has declined a bit, but the intensity has not.  I am so use to crying now that I’m a bit worried for the time that will come that it all dwindles.  I’m guessing that would be good in some respects.  I have it from several good authorities that I will never forget her, but even that "what-if" brings tears to my eyes.  It’s just so hard to think Miki was here, not that long ago.  I was visiting with one of my sisters today, trying to remember when we had our last conversation with her when she was “present,” with the least amount of medication from interfering with her being her. 

The last words Miki and I shared, I felt she was present for, was the night before she became unconscious.  Late Saturday evening we were doing the change of position dance from recliner, back to the bed.  Her right leg was extremely weak and her overall strength had diminished as well.  I would place my hands under her armpits, like lifting a child up onto a swing.  She would place her hands around the back of my neck and count to three.   As she summoned what strength she had to stand, I lifted her up to her feet.  She would briefly wrap her arms around my neck as to give me a hug, while trying to keep herself standing long enough for me to hug her back.  While in that embrace, she turned her mouth to my ear and quietly said, “I love you.  Thank you.”  I whispered back, “I love you.  You’re welcome.”  From that moment on, the conversation became one sided, as I talked to her, read to her, and reassured her we would all be okay if she needed to begin her adventure.  I cling to that moment like no other.  The next day began her unconscious state of being.  Those words we exchanged felt very special at the time, I just didn’t realize why.

I’m sure if she were here, she’d be telling me to get on with it.  No wallowing, second guessing, or time to waste…there’s living to be done.  She used to say this is a beautiful planet to explore and now I will.  Be grateful for what we had and I am.  And she would say that her journey was perfect and it was…doesn’t mean I have to like it.  But I will explore here while she does there.  I will never forget what we had.  And she was and is perfect, journey and all, just as we all are, and our journeys as well...doesn't mean we have to like it.

My Zen from Home:  As I continue to try and get the house and my life in order, I keep running across things that slow me down.  A card in a drawer from Valentine’s Day I gave her that she kept.  A journal she’s written that I stop to read.  A drawing she did I’d never seen.  I am learning when I find moments she left behind there is no clock.  If I didn’t share them with her then, I get to share them with her now.

One Week Ago

Last Wednesday, I spent the better part of the day talking to Miki, reassuring her that it was okay for her to let go and to get her feet wet with her next step.  Having been unconscious for over three days, it just seemed her time was drawing near and the signs were supporting her in that direction.  As I write, it’s still raw.  I held her hand, kissed her all over, and caressed her newly grown “chicken fuzz” that adorned her previously baldhead.  I rephrased my words to her in as many ways as I could, hoping not to lose her attention, if she could indeed comprehend my plea.  As the day wore on, the volume of each breath diminished slowly but surely, until late evening, when she released the last hint of air and her chest became still.  Her humming bird heart rate ceased and the moment I had encouraged throughout the day arrived.  Simultaneously, I celebrated for her and cried for me.  And at that moment, we both began a new adventure, but this time separately.  Like this whole leg of the journey, it was the most difficult moment to participate in, yet the most freeing.  I replay it frequently, in hopes of not losing it.

My dad endured losing a spouse twice.  I am trying to figure out how to get through it once.  I wrote months ago that I felt Miki’s cancer experience was a unique struggle like no one else’s, but yet like everyone else’s.  It seems as though no two people react the same to the drugs, radiation, or whatever treatment regiment is laid out before them.  I am feeling the same thing as I come to grips with losing Miki.  I am reacting to the same event as you, yet I have my own unique feelings and reactions like no one else’s, yet like everyone else’s.  Of course I know others have lost partners in life, but why do I feel like mine is so much harder to wrap my brain around than anyone else’s?  Intellectually, I know that isn’t the case, but emotionally, how can anyone feel the same thing I am?  Okay, I am starting to write consecutive interrogative sentences, so I need to let it go.

I feel like I am doing okay, according to The Five Stages of Loss and Grief.  More importantly I rely on those that know me and see me often to keep tabs.  Jerk me back in line when needed.  The time since Miki passed is short in days, but feels like weeks or longer, as I start to come out of the eddy we stalled out in and back into the flow of life again.  Away from the imaginary safety of our cancer center and the caring nurses that made everything all right or the hospital and a false sense of security or Hospice House, where some of the burden seemed to have been dispersed, I feel like an ex-con stepping out of prison, trying to readjust to a new life on the outside.  But I can honestly say that so far, each day is slightly better in some way than the previous one.

Getting the house back in pre-cancer condition was no small feat.  Everything from hospital bed removal (thanks Greg), to vacuuming, mopping, and dusting (thanks Alice, Lynn, and John), took some time and focus I don’t have yet.  Coping with Miki’s personal items like clothing, design and decorations, and her Healing Touch business will be a longer-range goal.  But the basics are in place and there is room to place one foot in front of the other, which is a realistic daily goal.  Getting the house back is one of the accomplishments that makes each day a little better than the last.

Two things happened yesterday that keep the momentum moving forward.  One, I received Miki’s death certificates in the mail.  Many of you may already know that until you have those in hand, life can be put on hold.  They evidently unlock some doors to progress in moving forward.  The second change that occurred yesterday came in the mail with the death certificates.  I was taken aback as the cards that have been coming to Miki showing support and birthday wishes have changed over to condolences and best wishes, addressed to me.  I honestly didn’t see that coming.  Over the last few days, a light but steady stream of friends have appeared on my doorstep and good visits ensued.  The support has been unwavering for months and we both truly thank you for that.

Today I visited the local Social Security Administration office, on a tip from people in the know.  I would not have thought to seek out any type of “death benefit” in that direction, since our teacher retirement doesn’t play well together with social security.  And I learned something new.  I was told that when social security was established, they issued a $255 death benefit to the survivors of all that worked and contributed their fair share over time.  Well, Miki evidently contributed her fair share and they will issue me the same $255 as was denoted in the Social Security Act from 1935…78 years later.  A good example of the more things change, the more they…

So as plans continue to solidify for Miki’s celebration/memorial service, life slows down for no one.  I constantly dig for the last words Miki and I spoke, the last hug we clung to, and smile we shared.  Whether I recall them as they happened, create them in my mind, or pull them out of thin air, I’m reminded each day that regrouping from these last six months will be grueling at times and joyous at others.  I’m rooting for more of the latter.

My Zen from Home:  Many of you know that Miki edited all my blog entries before I posted them.  I felt a sense of accomplishment if she teared up, laughed aloud, or hopefully both while editing.  I am hoping that as I edit them myself, she is looking over my shoulder, helping to point out a correction or suggest a change.  On days she is lost in her new adventure, feel free to help her out and let me know of any blatant oversights I’ve made (you can skip the minor ones).  It may take a village to support this blog and me, where as she was pretty good at it by herself.  I’ll miss that too!

Miki was never stingy with a smile.

Obituary...Never Liked That Word.

My attempt at what would not fit into the newspaper or take a lottery win to finance.  A snippet of background about whom we loved and are missing...Our Miki.

Marsha Lee Heyne was celebrated into this life in St. Louis, Missouri, November 28, 1957.  She was the second child and second girl born to Walt and Millie Heyne.   After moving to Salisbury, Maryland and Waterville, Maine, her family settled in Rogers, Arkansas.

She had many notable accomplishments growing up, including being a Brownie and a Girl Scout.  

Miki graduated from high school in 1976.  Her high school years included attending Girl’s State in 1975.  She was also named the Daughters of the American Revolution Good Citizen of Rogers High School.  She played on the Team Flakes basketball team and according to one article, was second highest scorer in a 26-21 win, where she scored 10 points.  

Other accolades in high school included being a drum major for the high school marching band for 4 years, member of the Future Business Leaders of America, she was a recipient of the President’s Physical Fitness and Leadership Award, had a Junior Homemaker Degree, and had won medals as a flutist.  She was a member of the United Youth Fellowship, Future Homemakers of America, and French Club.  I would like to point out (and I've had many belly laughs over) that she was not only a member of the Future Homemakers of America in high school, but was PRESIDENT of it.  Did I hit the jackpot or what!?!

After attaining her undergraduate from Southwest Missouri State University and graduate degree from University of Missouri, Columbia, she was hired as a learning disabilities teacher for the Blue Springs School District in 1981.  It was here that the magic happened and her calling came to fruition.  She loved facilitating the underdog and championing each of her student's cause to be as successful as they could.  It was also here that she met her future husband, Wallie Winholtz.  Miki and Wallie met at Franklin Smith Elementary as new teachers and it did not take long for them to realize they were good together.  They met in August of 1981, moved in together in December, and made it official the day after school was out, May 29, 1982.  Besides learning disabilities, she also taught in the regular classroom, spent a year as a STAR teacher for the state, providing professional development, taught education classes and supervised student teachers for Graceland University while on loan from the district, and her last year was at the alternative high school. 

Miki was an educator for 29 years before retiring, including being the 1993 Blue Springs School District Teacher of the Year.  She did not begin the “good life” upon retiring, just carried it on.  She loved her career in education, the students that passed through her classroom, and the parents that made a difference. She stepped away from teaching in 2010 and retired to travel, garden, love on her dogs and husband, put forth more energy towards her Healing Touch practice and ride her Harley.  In the years prior to retiring, she worked hard at getting her certification with Healing Touch International.  She was certified as a Healing Touch Practitioner in 2010 and enjoyed working with and for her clients, many of whom became friends.  She considered it quite an accomplishment.

In 2002, at the age of 45, Marsha legally changed her name to what all of her friends and family had come to know her by for most of her life, Miki.  This, along with getting her motorcycle license at age 50, were two of the many milestones in her journey.

In June of this year, Miki was diagnosed with lung cancer.  Six months later, her intention to “walk through this” took a wrong turn and the cancer stole her from us six days after her 56^th birthday, December 4, 2013.  As I watched her take her last breath through tears of sadness, I celebrated as she was finding out what we all want to know.

Miki will carry with her in her heart her parents of Bella Vista, Arkansas, Walt and Millie Heyne, her sister and family of Kirkwood, Mo, Gail, Rik, and Cait Hafer, and her brother and family of Mt. Pleasant, SC, Marty, Kathleen, Callie and Grace.  

She also will carry with her, her sisters in law and their husbands both of Lee’s Summit, Mo, Lynn and John Varvaro, and Alice Winholtz and David Tribble, her sister in law of Morro Bay, Ca, Betty Winholtz, her bother in law, wife, and daughter of Blue Springs, Mo, Willie,  Barb, and Kayla Winholtz.

Miki will also carry in her heart, her husband Wallie.  Paddling partner, lover, companion, and friend of 32 years.  After meeting their first year of teaching, they spent little time apart.  He sends her on to her next adventure, as she called it, with much love and anticipation of updates along the way.  And of the many pets she loved and cared for over the years, she will carry her dogs Tuck and Tooga with her as well.

Namaste

A celebration of Miki’s life will be held at 1:00 p.m.

December 21, 2013

Blue Springs High School Commons

2000 NW Ashton Dr, Blue Springs, MO 64015.

Miki asked that in lieu of flowers, donations in her name be made to:

Best Friends Animal Society

5001 Angel Canyon Road

Kanab, Utah 84741

http://bestfriends.org/

and/or

Kansas City Hospice

9221 Ward Parkway, Suite 100

Kansas City, MO 64114

http://www.kansascityhospice.org/

Envelopes will be made available at the service for those wishing to contribute at that time.


My Zen from Home:  

Home is Where the Heart Is

Slowly but surely, room-by-room, I sit in each one, waiting for memories to pop up, so I can see her again.  Turning the back bedroom into her office for Healing Touch, when she was certified in 2010 was exciting.  Finding the right wall decorations, building the desk and Murphy bed, and finally the clients came.  That was an accomplishment, years in the making for her.  The other spare bedroom she decorated as her bedroom, where her clothes were put away and books of interest found shelf space.  The daybed is covered (COVERED!) with pillows that were painstakingly selected for just the right reason and in turn placed in just the right spot, many of which I could never quite get back in the right place when we made it after a guest had stayed with us.  Those two rooms were normally ready for guests at a moments notice.  But as she became less and less able to care for them and her attention turned inward, piles started to form and the neatly appointed details began to be overlooked.

The third bedroom, upstairs, is our bedroom.  She had control of the other two, but this one she had to share.  And because of that, as hard as she tried, it was not as kept as the others.  This was due mainly of course, to my involvement in the space.  I am a hanger, not a put-a-wayer.  My daily jeans would hang on the back of the door, hoodies would hang on the bifolds to the closet, and stuff would accumulate on my nightstand.  She was very tolerant, until guests were on their way.  Tooga’s bed is half in, half out of the closet, and Tucks lies at the foot of the bed.  With the size of a master bedroom from the 60’s, walk-ins, sitting area, and an “ensuite” (whatever happened to “master” bath) bathroom are not part of the design scheme for our bedroom.  But we did squeeze out an “en-smallish-suite-ette” where we managed to fit our shower, toilet (minus the bidet) and even a double sink vanity, where we occasionally bumped elbows.  But it worked for us.

I’m sure if we had a fourth bedroom, it would have been mine (Ha!).  I was happy to share one, as long as I could hang stuff until guests would ruin it for me.  The remodeling of the upstairs, from gutting bathrooms to squeezing out towel and sheet storage, was always a joint effort.  She would come up with the ideas and I would make them happen, although she would be right there with me tearing apart or rebuilding.

The kitchen was gutted and redesigned.  Sink relocated, desk built in, and more storage added.  But all the decorations on top of the cabinets were placed and replaced until all found a home that jived with its neighbor.  Each has a meaning and a story.  One of which is a “Mother’s Day” gift.  Obviously we never had children, but she was the mother to our pets and hundreds of students, so I saw it fit to celebrate her on Mother’s Day as well.

The living room was a challenging space, but she worked out the best arrangement and made it comfy and cozy, surrounded by family photos and lots of glass allowing a view to the backyard.  We gradually replaced the cheaper furniture with more comfortable, sturdy pieces.  And when the dog hair isn’t covering it, the couch is pretty comfy to support a nap.

The TV room was our biggest accomplishment, in terms of physical remodeling.  I won’t even try to describe it.  But it now houses many of our travel memories in pictures or items brought back from places we connected with.

I can’t be in any of these rooms without seeing her influence, a memory, or her.  In 1990, we took someone else’s house and over the last 23 years, transformed it into our home. I’ve left tears in every room over the last 3 days and that won’t end anytime soon.

Since her passing, I’ve been asked if I’ll stay here.  There is not a lot I haven’t thought about, as an infinite number of thoughts seem to bounce around in my head each day.  But this is home.  I’m comforted here by it, I enjoy its uniqueness, and I know what has broken and what needs repair (all to well).  So this will remain home until further notice.

I seem to have left out the newest addition to our address.  The tree house.  Miki made reference a couple of times, that if she knew it was going to end this way, she would have never asked for a tree house.  I tried to nip that thought in the bud, by sharing with her that it gave me a distraction I desperately needed.  It also gave her attention somewhere to be, besides where it had been for months.  It has been called the Love Shack, the Tree House, and do you remember the “raised shed?”  My stepbrother, Chuck, lives in NYC and knows Miki from the beginnings of our relationship.  The physical distance between us has been hard, as this part of our journey unfolded before him in emails and blog postings.  I spoke with him yesterday and he said as soon as the tree house was underway, he wanted to participate in some way from his NYC apartment.  He grabbed a piece of wood and went to work.  He planned that it would arrive here last week for Miki to see, but for reasons unknown at the post office, I received that piece of wood yesterday in the mail.  I unwrapped it with anticipation and as soon as the wrapping paper was clear and I could read it, tears of laughter, joy, and sadness began.  And although Miki didn’t see it while she was here, she sees it now and is laughing with joy as well.  The card that accompanied it began with…

Question:  What did the giant football stadium say to the tiny football stadium?

Answer:  Hut!

And with that, Chuck created a new nickname that will adorn our smaller version of a tree house compared to some of the more elaborate ones seen on TV and the Internet.  She would have loved the name along with its corny roots, in fact I’ll bet she loves the name.  So now Chuck joins the construction crew of willing and semi-willing participants and emotional and mental supporters to the cause.

The home is where the heart is and a lot of Miki’s heart went into this one, for sure.  One day it will pass into another’s hands and some of that heart will remain, while the rest will go with me to establish a new one.

My Zen from Home:  After all these years of Miki wanting me to watch less TV, it’s taken this journey to make it happen.  I spent the last 6 months watching her instead and now I’m trying to playback the last 32 years I’ve TiVoed.  I wonder what she would think of that.